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I try to look dignified—which is hard when you’ve just flopped off a fence—and tuck my tit back in. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this shit.”

He shrugs, still not putting me down. “Because you secretly enjoy the thrill.”

“Whatever.”

He sets me down and we make our way inside. The baseball field is deserted at this hour. The wet grass sparkles under the night sky, steady rain drumming against the metal bleachers. I find it both soothing and terrifying because I keep looking around for security guards.

“Should we be out here?” My eyes lift to the field lit only by the moon. “What if we get caught?”

“Well, no. Probably shouldn’t be, and I’d be benched if they found out.”

“Jaxon, seriously?” I pull back. “Then let’s not go out there. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

He laughs, and I do not appreciate it. “Yeah, I know you don’t.”

“So let's go then.”

“Nuh uh. Come here.” He shakes his head, stops in the bleachers, and glances back. “Some rules are worth breaking.”

I wonder if he realizes this was where he told me he was talking to Inez. What’s different now? Everything. Nothing. Still no definition.

“Girl.” He holds out his hand. “Come on.”

I take one step toward him. My heart is pounding so loud I can’t tell if it’s that or my ragged breathing. “Jaxon, what are you doing?”

“You’ll see.”

He takes my hand and pulls me in close. One hand moves up, cupping my cheek. His eyes search mine.

“Moonlight looks good on you.” He kisses me, gentle, once. Pulls back. “Do you want me to stop?”

Hell no. I inhale, the ache in my stomach practically screaming. “No.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. If I get arrested tonight, I’m blaming you for not stopping me.

His lips curl in a smirk. He kisses me again, tongue sweeping my bottom lip. I want more. Need more.

But then he breaks the kiss, breath heavy, eyes burning. “I got so jealous seeing you talk to him.”

Did he just say that? I didn’t make that up, right?

“You did?”

He nods, holding me tighter. Hands slide to my hips, then my ass. He sighs against my lips. “I’m needy, baby,” he says, and it’s almost a damn whimper. Okay, not a whimper, but it’s needy as fuck and sends a tingle all the way down. “Are you gonna give me what I want?”

Honestly, I don’t even know what he asked. My brain short-circuits at “baby.” He knows exactly when to use it.

How do you spend your Tuesday nights? Me?

Glad you asked. I spend mine fucking a baseball player on home plate.

No, really.

Don’t believe me?

Well, I’m buck-ass, birthday-suit booty-ass naked, so you tell me who’s lying.

But you know what? I can’t complain.

There’s a moment, right about now, when a rock is digging into my knee and I’m contemplating life choices.

I don’t get far into my regrets, because Jaxon is all over me. I’ve never seen him so into it, but for whatever reason, he is and I’m here for it. His hands grip my hips, pulling me back into his rhythm, hard.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, pushing into me harder. I can feel him thicken, his thrusts picking up. His body shudders, breathing ragged.

I glance back at him—moonlight on his face. My fingertips dig into the dirt, gasping for air. It’s terrifying, how he makes me feel.

Stroking my clit faster, his fingers work magic and I come apart at the same time as he does.

“Always remember, baby.” He hunches forward, lips at my ear. “This pussy is mine.”

Have I ever told you Jaxon is good at dirty talk? Now’s not the time, but trust me, he’s a pro.

He eases out and holds me close a second.

Breathing heavy, Jaxon stands—sort of. He’s hunched over, hands on his knees, then straightens and helps me up, smiling. Rain sprinkles his cheeks and he wipes it away. “I think I pulled a muscle.”

I look down at my knees, burning. “I think I cut the shit outta my knees.”

“Oh, shit.” He glances at my scraped knees. “Sorry.”

I brush off dirt, mud staining my leggings. “Worth it.”

“That was fun.”

“Jaxon?”

He smirks. “Yeah?”

“Can I have my phone back?”

“Depends.” He pulls it out and holds it above my head with the most mischievous grin.

I barely notice his grin, distracted by his arm muscles. “On what?”

“If you’re gonna text him.” His eyes narrow.

I shift my weight. “Jaxon.”

“All right.” He smirks, hands it over. “I suppose you can have it.”

He watches as I take it, like he’s waiting for something. I roll my eyes and smile. “I won’t text him back.”

He winks, confidently. “I know you won’t.”

I hate that he’s right. He knows me. He’s confident about this, and I’m not, because I’ve got feelings that won’t die.

We walk back across campus in silence, shoes squeaking on the wet sidewalk.

The rain falls steadily, making halos around the streetlamps that line the path.

Shadows of tree branches dance across the pavement as the spring breeze moves through them.

The campus is eerily quiet now—just rain on leaves and the occasional distant car.

My wet clothes cling, mud drying on my leggings. I sneak glances at Jaxon. His white T-shirt is practically see-through, hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping from his jaw. I want to reach out and wipe it away.

Y’all, what the fuck am I doing? I keep asking and doing nothing, but how do I resist him? I need a flowchart. Seriously.

And I know I’ve said it before, but I won’t get hurt this time.

I won’t let my feelings mess me up, but I can’t deny I still love him, and pretending otherwise is pointless.

When we’re alone like this, I believe everything will work out. It’s fine we don’t have answers. I believe it when I’m with him, because of how good I feel.

Our footsteps echo off the brick buildings as we pass the library, windows dark except for security lights. Rain drums on the student center’s metal awning. Water streams down my face, but I barely notice. I’m too aware of Jaxon beside me, how his hand keeps brushing mine.

It’s between the innings when my mind wanders—what does it mean? I want this to work so much, I lose myself in the process. I let it happen, over and over, because right now, I’m his.

Outside my dorm, the security light throws harsh shadows across the wet concrete. Jaxon pulls me in by the waist, rain falling around us. “Ya leave for Arizona tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

He hugs me, then rests his forehead on mine. I’m not sure what to think. His eyes—mysterious, intense, full of secrets. I trace my thumb along his jaw, feel the stubble, knowing “I love you” is right there on my tongue.

I won’t say it.

I won’t admit that no matter how hard I try not to be Attachment Barbie, I am.

I wanted to be GI Jane about all this. Strong. Detached. Ready for any curveball. Instead, I’m standing here in the rain, mud-covered and completely gone for him, waiting on his signals.

Every time I tell myself this is the last inning, he throws another perfect game, and I’m right back behind home plate, ready to catch whatever he sends.

Attachment Barbie, you suck at this.