Page 39 of Freestyle (Boys of Frampton U #2)

Phoenix

“ H ey, wait up, man!” Remy calls from behind me as I’m leaving my last lecture. He’s always off with Fallon, so it’s been a while since I’ve caught up with him. I slow down just enough to let him catch up.

My body pauses but my mind doesn’t stop scanning, checking the quad, the windows, my watch.

He falls in step like we haven’t been strangers in our own house all weekend. “So,” he says, keeping his voice low but his smirk high, “you and Gray pulled a first.”

I raise a brow, but I don’t engage.

He nudges my elbow. “C’mon, man. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Rowyn . She stayed all weekend. You two never double back, and now she’s here? Every morning? In your hoodie, no less?”

I exhale slowly. “She’s not a conquest.”

Remy blinks at that. The smile falters, cracks just a little. “Didn’t say she was. I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I’ve known you guys for a long time. You don’t keep them around.”

I look at him then. Really look.

Remy still thinks this is about a pattern. About rules we made up sophomore year, back when feelings were optional and the world was simple. He hasn’t seen what we have. Hasn’t heard her voice crack in the dark, hasn’t watched her flinch when the silence stretches too long.

“This is different,” I say finally. Not a defense. A confession.

His eyes narrow. “You like her.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“I protect her.” I keep my tone steady, even. “Because someone out there still thinks he can get to her. And until that stops, we’re not leaving her side.”

Remy frowns. It’s the first sign he’s actually listening, not just poking for gossip.

“Something happen? ”

I glance away. “That’s not my story to tell.”

He watches me for a long beat, then nods once. Just once.

“You’re serious about her.”

I don’t say anything, but I think he hears the answer in the silence.

Remy doesn’t push.

Not in the way most people would. He just walks beside me for another beat, quiet now. Thinking, maybe. Adjusting.

Then he says, “If something’s going down… I want in.”

I glance at him, caught off guard by the shift in his voice. It’s not teasing anymore. No smirk, just that rare kind of seriousness he only brings out when things matter.

“It’s not your problem,” I say, softer than before.

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, but it’s tight. “Maybe it is. If you and Gray are this deep into something, if Rowyn’s at the center of it, I should’ve known. I should’ve noticed.”

“You were with Fallon,” I say, before I can stop myself. Not an accusation, just a fact that still stings.

His jaw ticks. “You could’ve told me.”

I don’t respond because maybe we should’ve, and maybe we couldn’t.

He lets out a slow breath. “I don’t care what happened. Or how bad it is. If someone’s coming after her, then I want to help.”

I study him. Really look. And there it is, beneath the guilt, beneath the confusion.

Loyalty.

The kind that doesn’t expire.

So I nod. “You might regret that.”

He huffs a laugh. “I’ve followed you into worse.”

And that’s how I know; when the reckoning comes, it won’t just be Gray and me standing in the fire.

It’ll be all three of us.

I clap Remy on the shoulder, firm, not dismissive. Just final.

“Thanks, man,” I say, quieter now. “Really.”

He gives me a look like he’s still trying to solve a puzzle with half the edges missing, but he nods. Because that’s Remy, under all the charm, all the noise, the loyalty’s always been there. Even when we drifted, even when he didn’t see the storm brewing.

“I gotta meet her,” I add, glancing toward the quad. “She’s waiting.”

Remy raises an eyebrow, but this time, there’s no teasing. Just a small, knowing smile. “Then don’t keep her waiting.”

I smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And with that, I turn, shouldering the weight of everything I didn’t say, and head toward the only gravity that matters anymore.

I spot her before she sees me.

She’s perched on the stone steps outside the psych building, elbows resting on her knees, fingers absently twisting the ring she always forgets to take off.

Her blonde hair is down today, loose and wild, catching the wind like it was made to be admired in motion.

Sunlight threads through it like it’s trying to show off, gilding her like a secret the universe forgot to keep quiet.

And something in me just… stills.

All the noise, all the weight from the last hour, Remy’s questions, my own fraying edges, the storm we’re trying to keep off her doorstep, it quiets the moment I see her.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed that.

Not her laugh, not her touch. Just her . Existing. Breathing. Taking up space in a world that tried to make her small.

She shifts, pulling my hoodie tighter around her body. My scent still probably lingers in the sleeves like I’m marking her. Her legs bounce with anxious energy, but her eyes scan the crowd like she’s searching for someone.

Me.

It hits deep and sudden.

I’m already walking before I know it, faster than necessary, hands shoved in my pockets to keep from reaching out too soon .

She looks up right then, like she felt it. My stare, the pull, all of it and when her eyes find mine, something about her face softens.

There it is again, that quiet wreckage in my chest that only she can cause.

She stands, brushing invisible lint off her jeans, the straps of her bag slipping from one shoulder. She doesn’t smile, not the big kind anyway, but her lips tilt at the edges like she’s maybe glad I’m here.

“Hey,” she says when I reach her, her voice soft but steady.

“Miss me?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes. “You were gone for like an hour.”

“Still counts.”

We fall into step like we didn’t spend the weekend wrapped in something that felt too good to be temporary. My hand brushes hers once. Twice. Then I let it fall into place, fingers catching hers like gravity did all the work.

We’re halfway to the house when the words start crawling up the back of my throat. I chew on them for a few steps, tasting the weight of what I’m about to say.

She’s watching the sidewalk with her fingers still looped in mine like she forgot to let go. Or maybe she just doesn’t want to.

The wind flicks her hair across her cheek, and I catch it gently, tucking it behind her ear.

“Hey,” I say, voice lower now. “Can I ask you something?”

She nods, guarded but open.

“The notes,” I say carefully. “The ones we found... why didn’t you tell anyone?”

She’s quiet. Too quiet, like the air just tightened around her ribs.

I stop walking, pulling her gently to a halt with me. “I’m not judging. I just—” I sigh. “I’ve been trying to understand.”

Her gaze drops to the pavement. “Because I didn’t want to make it real.”

My chest tightens.

She swallows hard. “The first one I thought was maybe a prank. The second one, I hoped was a coincidence. By the time I couldn’t pretend anymore…

I figured no one would believe me. Or worse, they would.

” She looks up then, eyes glassy but furious.

“And then I’d have to live in that reality all over again. ”

I nod slowly, stepping closer. “You don’t have to explain it away, sunshine. You don’t owe me that part of yourself.”

Her lip trembles once. “You and Gray didn’t even blink. You just… acted. Like you’d been waiting for someone to hurt me.”

I reach up, touch her jaw, and tilt her face toward mine. “We weren’t waiting for someone to hurt you.”

I pause, trying to form the right words.

“We were waiting for a reason to burn anyone who already did.”

She lets out a shaky breath. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not,” I murmur. “You’re a fuse, and we’ve been lit since the first night we had you. There’s nothing calm about what you woke in us.”

She’s quiet again, but this time when she looks at me, it’s with something else beneath the surface. Trust, or something dangerous close to it. Something even deeper perhaps.

I’d walk through hell if it meant she looked at me like this again

I’m still looking at her, watching the way her breath catches like the words struck something she didn’t expect.

The wind threads through her hair again, but she doesn’t look away.

I take a step closer, my voice rough with truth. “You think we’re steady, but we’ve been standing in gasoline since the night you came through that door. You didn’t just light a match, Rowyn... you rewrote gravity.”

She swallows hard, eyes flicking between mine, searching for the part where I might be kidding .

I’m not.

“You’re not a burden. You’re not broken, and you’re sure as hell not something we’re just surviving. You’re the reason we don’t sleep, the reason we burn. ”

She doesn’t say anything but her hand finds mine again, slowly, deliberate.

There’s no warning, not a glance, not a breath drawn in hesitation. Just her, warm and sudden, pressing up on her toes, fingers catching lightly at the front of my shirt like she needs to anchor herself.

And then her mouth is on mine.

Soft.

Intentional.

Like maybe she’s been holding it in too long, and finally got tired of pretending.

I freeze, just for a second, because everything inside me shifts. The world tilts. My hands find her waist, then her back, and I pull her closer like instinct’s the only language I speak.

She kisses like she’s scared she’ll regret it, but more scared she won’t .

My heart’s a wrecking drum in my chest, and when she finally leans back, barely, our foreheads brush. Her breath fans across my skin.

She doesn’t speak.

Neither do I, because words aren’t made for moments like this.

Not when everything is already burning.