Page 34 of King of Pain (Damaged Hearts #1)

Drive

Anthony

Winter break and the holidays have been incredible. Better than expected. Better than anything I ever thought I could have.

Time spent with Chance, with friends, with laughter and warmth—and more food than a person should consume. Especially lasagna. So much lasagna.

We’ve spent the past two weeks in a haze of movie marathons, video games, long walks with Little G, ringing in the new year, and just existing in the same space.

Chance has shown me… possibilities.

That scares me more than anything.

Because I like it.

I like him .

I find myself getting more and more comfortable with his teasing, his flirting.

The nicknames that used to fluster me now feel like tiny sparks igniting inside my chest. The way he drops his voice to that deep, sexy smolder I know he uses just to make me blush.

It still makes me squirm, but I don’t fight it as hard anymore.

I don’t want to fight it anymore.

I haven’t let myself fully acknowledge it until now.

Since the night I saw him in his room—splayed out, lost in pleasure, moaning my name—I’ve felt something shift inside me. An awakening I never expected would feel right for me. But it does.

For years, I convinced myself that part of me was dead. That it had been taken, beaten, twisted into something unrecognizable. That my body was never mine to claim. That my sexuality was not mine to choose, a predetermination tied to trauma.

But I was wrong.

Becausethis want simmering just beneath my skin is mine to give away. And I find myself wanting to.

I catch myself staring at Chance. At the strong curve of his back when he stretches in the morning, shirtless and barely awake.

At the way his tongue peeks out and glides along those full lips when he’s concentrating on something.

At the way his sweatpants cling to his body, highlighting the thick, round curve of that hockey ass, forcing me to grip the edge of the counter just to keep myself from reaching out.

But I want to reach out.

I want to know what it feels like to casually rub those big athletic globes whenever I want.

To have those full lips pressed against mine.

I’ve never been kissed.

What was taken from me was always done in an act of force. A theft. Kissing was not part of their torment, thank fuck. My body wasn’t mine in those moments, but this?

This is something I get to choose to give away.

And I think… I think I want Chance to be the one I give it to. I just hope I don’t freak out when the moment finally happens and ruin it like I did at Christmas.

On New Year’s Eve, with just the two of us and the unspoken tradition of a midnight kiss hanging in the air, I was a nervous wreck.

But Chance, as always, read me like a book.

Instead of pushing, he simply clinked his glass against mine, gave me that signature wink, and flashed a knowing smile.

A smile that felt like a promise. A promise that there would be plenty more chances for New Year’s kisses.

My heart pounds at the thought.

Could I do it? Could I let him in like that?

I think about the way he looks at me, the way his touch lingers just a little longer than necessary, how he tells me I’mbeautifullike it’s the easiest truth in the world.

And I think... maybe I could.

Maybe I want to.

Maybe I will .

Winter break is almost over, and part of me hates that the bubble we’re in will burst. That we’ll both be busy with classes and work and responsibilities. I wish I had more time.

More time alone withhim.

More time to explore this thing I’m starting to admit to myself.

Because I know I want him.

And I think I’m close to being ready to have him.

When I hear the low rumble of an engine right outside the apartment, I glance up from my laptop, puzzled. It’s still early, and I wasn’t expecting anyone. I stretch, head to the window, and see Chance stepping out of a convertible. In January.

I open the door, arching a brow as he struts up like he’s in a movie. “A convertible? In winter? Really?”

Chance grins, leaning against the doorframe with his trademark confidence. “It’s California. Convertible is non-negotiable, Pacini.”

“California?” I repeat, blinking. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re going on a road trip.” He tosses me the keys with a blinding smile. “Pack a duffel. You’ve got five minutes.”

I catch the keys, still processing. “What are you… Chance, we have work. And Guinness—”

“Already cleared our schedules with Frank and Kathy,” he cuts in, resting the back of his thighs casually against the arm of the couch. “And Lexi’s taking Little G for a few days. She’ll spoil him rotten.”

Before I can protest further, Lexi steps out from her apartment, curls bouncing as she bounds up. She’s holding a bag of dog treats and squeals when she sees the convertible. “Chance, seriously? You went full cliché?”

He just laughs. “It’s part of the experience.”

Lexi snatches Little G’s leash as the little traitor wags his tail and jumps into her arms when she kneels down to greet him.

I grill her on his feeding and bathroom schedule while Chance and I give him some loving and promise we’ll be back.

Lexi gives me an exasperated look and says, “Alright, alright, I’ve got him. You two go and enjoy your romantic getaway,”

“It’s not a—” I start, but she waves me off.

“Save it, Pacini. Just go make some memories.” She raises a brow, daring me to challenge her, then heads back to her apartment, Guinness in tow.

Chance claps his hands. “Now it’s four minutes, Ant.”

I roll my eyes, but toss the keys back at him and retreat into the apartment. In record time, I toss clothes, toiletries, and essentials into a duffel bag. I grab my jacket and team beanie, muttering to myself about impulsive plans and convertibles in January.

When I get back outside, Chance has the top down and is leaning against the car—sunglasses on, collar popped up on his polo—looking like he just stepped out of an ‘80s music video. I can’t decide if I want to flick his forehead or finally grab a handful of that ass. Maybe both.

“Alright, Maverick . Where are we even going?” I ask as I climb into the passenger seat.

He shrugs. “I thought I’d leave that up to you, Beautiful.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “So impulsive.” Pulling up the navigation on my phone, I punch in a destination. “We’re going to Newport Beach. Fun town, good vibes, and I know a decent motel that won’t bankrupt us.”

He turns to me with a grin. “Do they have those vibrating beds?”

“Seriously?” I shoot him a look.

He wags his eyebrows. “What’s the point of a motel if the bed doesn’t shake?”

I look at him and laugh. “You’re a menace.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” he teases as he pulls out onto the road.

We settle into the drive and Chance insists I handle the music, so I sync my phone to the car and put on my best ‘80s mix—one that I’ve spent countless hours curating.

Within minutes, we’re both singing along to “Take On Me” by A-ha.

Chance hits the falsetto with perfect pitch and I miss it by a mile.

Snacks litter the center console: chips, candy bars, and an unopened package of trail mix Chance claims is for balance. The miles blur by, the vast desert giving way to rolling hills, the open road stretching endlessly ahead.

A couple hours in, Chance turns the music down and glances at me, a little uncharacteristically shy. “Hey, Ant?”

“Yeah?” I ask, shifting in my seat and giving him my full attention.

“While we’re there... would you, um, go with me to a gay bar?” He keeps his eyes on the road, his grip on the wheel bordering on white-knuckled.

His request takes me off guard, and I sit back, processing. I’ve never been to one. Fuck, the thought alone is enough to make my palms sweat. But there’s something in his tone that is hesitant, yet hopeful and it tugs at me.

I know he’s asking for more than just a night out. He’s inviting me into his world. I think he wants to show me possibilities for myself, too. I think that’s why he waited until we would be out of town where no one will know us.

My heart rate is outpacing the RPMs of this convertible. My first instinct is to say no, to make an excuse. But then I remember how safe I feel with him. How much I trust him. How much I owe him.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I’ll go with you.”

Chance looks over at me, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Really?”

“Really,” I confirm, feeling the knot in my stomach unraveling from the warmth in his gaze and the smile on his face.

The rest of the drive passes in a mix of music, banter, and comfortable silences.

I find myself relaxing, letting the miles strip away some of my nerves.

I even work up the courage to search on my phone for gay bars in Costa Mesa, the biggest neighboring city to Newport Beach.

By the time we arrive, the sun is dipping low, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange.

Chance pulls into the lot of the modest motel I plugged into GPS. The neon sign reads The Breezy Inn . It’s just as I remembered it—charming in a retro kind of way, and I laugh at how fitting that is.

“We made it,” he announces, cutting the engine. “Let’s check in and start this adventure.”

I step out of the car, feel the salty breeze, and take a moment to close my eyes and inhale deeply. The ocean air is crisp and carries a sense of freedom.

I watch Chance as he stretches beside the car, his arms raised high, a satisfied grin on his face. There’s a pull from the center of my chest, one I’ve been trying to ignore since the day I laid eyes on him, but I’ve been failing miserably.

Maybe it’s the time we’ve been spending together, the way he’s bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, or simply him being... him. Whatever it is, I just know I’m in trouble.

If I’m being honest with myself, this feels like more than just a road trip for me.

It feels like an opportunity to explore.

Out of town, away from anyone who knows me, maybe I can let myself see where this goes.

The idea of stepping into a gay bar with him, something I would’ve shied away from back home, it’s less daunting here.

With Chance by my side, I feel ten feet tall.

He’s been so patient with me, never pushing too hard, but always there—a quiet strength. I find myself opening up to him, little by little, like a plant instinctively reaching for the sun, drawn to the warmth that promises growth.

It all feels inevitable. Chance Sullivan is a force of nature, and I’m powerless against it. I know it. Shit, I’ve probably known it since the day we met. Every small gesture, every smirk, every gentle word—it all chips away at my resolve.

He catches me looking at him, his grin widening. “You ready to check in, Beautiful?”

I roll my eyes to cover up the way my insides melt at the nickname. “Yeah, let’s go. And stop calling me that in public, would you?”

He just laughs, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we head toward the neon-lit lobby . Despite my grumbling, I don’t pull away. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I don’t know how to anymore.

As the door swings open and the warm glow of the lobby greets us, I make a silent promise to myself. Whatever happens on this trip, I’m going to let myself feel it. No overthinking. No running. Just me and Chance, and whatever this pull between us might lead to.