Page 4

CHAPTER 4

MONROE

Fireworks crackle in the sky, the blues and golds and reds reflecting off the water where we watch the Fourth of July celebration from the upper deck of Clay Kiplin’s boathouse. It’s attached to his property, which is basically Badger party central. The dock extends several feet onto the Penobscot River, the two-story boathouse offering the prime spot to watch the fireworks that Clay sets off from a safe location down the bank.

The upper level of the boathouse is open to the elements but covered with a gazebo-like roof, two fans gently circulating the warm summer air around us. Soft gold lighting illuminates the array of patio furniture that me and my friends and other party-goers currently occupy.

Clay’s house is nestled on the land behind us, packed with more than half the Badgers, most of them and their friends now outside watching the fireworks too.

“How has living with Paxton been?” Reese asks from where she sits to my left, Blakely on the other side of her, and Hadley on the other side of Blakely.

We dominate most of the patio furniture up here, though there are a few other girls that’d been invited to the party through connections to different Badgers, leaning against the railing across the way, still watching the show.

“It's been great,” I admit, leaning back into the cushioned oversized sofa. “You know Pax,” I continue. “He went out of his way to stock the house with everything I like, and we’re hooked on true crime documentaries. I make a different snack every night while we watch them. He’s made it almost too easy to transition into living with him.”

I glance behind us, down the bank where Paxton, Lawson, Nash, and Baylor are currently helping Clay set off the fireworks, the five of them looking like teenagers from the way they’re laughing and lighting fuses.

“That doesn't sound like too easy . That sounds like a dream,” Blakely says, and I return my attention to her.

I chuckle softly. “I only mean that after what happened with Liam, there'd be a little more stress and a lot less contentment.”

“I think that’s a sign,” Reese says, eyeing me knowingly. “Of being with someone who understands you.”

“I’m not with Paxton,” I say, though for some reason, it feels like a lie.

I swallow hard, contemplating opening up to my friends about just how content Paxton has made me feel lately.

I've always been comfortable around him because we have deep sense of trust earned over years of friendship, but ever since he found me stranded at that festival, ever since he moved me into his home and I spent almost every waking minute with him, I've been feeling more and more conflicted. Every previous innocent touch has ignited a deep need in me that I can no longer hide or deny.

And as much as I want to tell them now, there are too many people up here, and the last thing I need is for the rumor mill to start churning out stories about me and my track record with Badgers.

Besides, I keep thinking these feelings will pass. They have to.

“I definitely have no complaints,” I finally say, waving to the few rookies who climb the stairs and join the girls across the way. I've worked on so many of the Badgers, it's a marvel I can remember all their names. “Of course, I'm sure Paxton would have some complaints?—”

“Complaints about what?” Paxton’s voice cuts over mine, his smile effortless as he makes his way over to me, plopping down on my right and extending an arm behind me, the move natural and easy.

“About me taking over your space,” I say, unable to ignore the way my heart takes off at his nearness, sending this giddy little sensation bubbling beneath my skin. He looks entirely too good in a pair of light-colored pants and a dark green polo that makes his eyes pop. I've always known exactly how handsome Paxton is, but lately it's been extremely hard to ignore.

Lawson, Nash, and Baylor join our little group, and Nash sets a cardboard box down on the table resting in the middle of our little circle.

“Please,” Paxton says, shaking his head. “You’re the perfect roommate,” he continues. “There's no way I could ever complain.”

Warmth floods my body, his sweet compliments about me completely unearned. “What? You’ve seen my skincare spread all over your guest bathroom, right? There’s barely any counterspace left.”

“First of all, it’s your bathroom while you’re living there.” He shrugs. “Second of all, it doesn’t bother me.”

“I’ve also taken over your pantry.”

“I like the new snacks you’ve stocked it with.”

Goddamn him, why is he so wonderful?

Blakely and Reese are giving me looks that say as much too.

“Done blowing stuff up?” Reese asks Nash, who fiddles with the box.

“Yep,” Nash answers. “Clay told basically told us to fuck off.”

“He did not,” Lawson argues. “He said he was almost out of fireworks, and we could go be with our girls.”

Nash laughs. “Which is basically fuck off in Clay language.”

I laugh, shaking my head. Clay is certainly grumpy, but I know underneath all that he has a huge heart. Anyone can look at the way he cares about the Badgers or the way he is with his adorable niece and know that he’s a secret softy.

“You guys want to try out this new card game we got this weekend?” Nash asks, popping the lid on the cardboard box with black and neon pink writing on it. He gestures to the others that are across the boathouse, and they come over. We all make room, shifting into a circle that almost takes up the entire upper half of Clay's boathouse.

“How do you play?” one of the girls—I’m not sure her name—asks as she situates herself on a chair next to a few of her friends and a couple of the rookies.

Nash settles between Reese and Hadley, Blakely moving to perch on Lawson's lap on the opposite side. Baylor sits next to Lawson, the rest of the group scattered out between us.

Nash takes out the cards, shuffling the massive deck before setting it in the center of the table. “It's super easy,” he explains. “There are different heat levels of cards. Some are tame, some are spicy, some are downright ridiculous,” he continues. “You have to carry out the tasks on the card in order to earn the card and point value attached to it. The first person to get fifty points wins. And you lose points if you decide to pass on a task or go for a lower heat level.”

“Sounds easy enough,” I say. “Are you going to start us off?”

“You know it,” Nash says, plucking a card from the top of the deck. He hesitates a moment, eyeing Hadley on his left. “I reserve the right to close my eyes and cover my ears if you pull a spicy card,” he says.

Hadley rolls her eyes. “I’m a grown woman.”

“You’re my little sister,” he counters, but the two laugh as Nash glances to Reese, who’s siting on his right. He hands her the card without looking at it. “Person to your right reads the card.”

Reese smiles, reading the card silently to herself, a small laugh escaping her before she sets the card down. “You got a mild one,” she says, and Nash snaps his fingers in disappointment. “You have to get up and pretend you're on a fashion runway for the next thirty seconds in front of everybody.”

“Oh, this is a piece of cake,” he says, rising from his spot and walking to the empty space across the boathouse. “Start the clock,” he says, and Reese not only starts the timer, but plays a ridiculous runway song that Nash proceeds to sway his hips to as he struts up and down on an imaginary runway he created. He does his best impression of Zoolander, and we're all in hysterics when the timer goes off and he returns to his seat next to Reese and Hadley.

“I'll take that,” he says, plucking the card from Reese's hand. He positions it on the table in front of him. “I'm going to win,” he says confidently.

Each player continues with the game, some of the cards absolutely ridiculous and others testing the boundaries of intimacy—one of the girls and a rookie had to do their best impression of a private lap dance session.

“Baylor's turn,” Nash says, clapping his hands as Reese grabs a card since she's sitting to the right of Baylor and me.

“Pick out a person of the opposite sex in the group and sweep them off their feet like you're in a romantic comedy,” Reese reads. “You only earn the points on the card if the other player you choose says they've been thoroughly romanced.”

Baylor contemplates for a moment before he gets out of his seat, eyes scanning the crowd of people around us. He only takes a second before he makes a beeline toward Hadley, his eyes locking on hers in a way that makes me think none of us should be watching.

Hadley’s light laughter immediately fades when she realizes his attention is on her, and then she gasps as he reaches for her hand, offering his palm up.

She takes it, and he gently tugs her toward him before bending slightly, swiping one of his muscled arms beneath her knees, sweeping her off her feet and cradling at her against his massive chest. His eyes never leave hers, nor does the small smile that shapes his lips as he proceeds to spin her around.

Hadley squeals, throwing her arms around his neck to hold onto him.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says in a smooth tone. “But more than that, you’re fucking brilliant. That mind of yours…it’s capable of bringing anyone to their knees.” He stops spinning her, looking down at her like no one is watching. “And I’d gladly get on my knees for you.”

Most of the group is laughing, clapping, or cheering Baylor on, but after a few moments, Nash is out of his seat, stomping over to them and stopping the declaration of fake love.

“Put my little sister down, dude,” Nash says, shaking his head. “There's six other women here, and you had to pick her?”

Baylor gently sets Hadley on her feet, winking at her and causing her to blush a little as she returns to her seat. He shrugs at Nash. “I had to make it believable,” he says. “Hadley loves those rom-com movies,” he continues. “Did I do it justice?” he asks as he looks at Hadley. “Have you been swept off your feet?”

She tries to bite back her smile and nods. “Yep.”

Baylor grins at Nash. “See? You know I'm a winner. And I knew she would judge me fairly.”

Nash studies him skeptically for a few moments before cracking a grin and nodding, then returns to his seat between Reese and Hadley.

Blakely, Reese, and myself share a look that says we will absolutely be asking Hadley about this after the boys leave.

“All right, Pax,” Nash says. “Draw one for Monroe.”

“This better be a good one,” Paxton says as he reaches for the next card, his eyes scanning the text and his smile falling for a second before he shakes his head. “I think I need to draw another one,” he says, moving to put the card back.

I stop him, joining in on the vocal protests from the group. “What? You think I can’t handle it?” I ask, playfully grabbing the card out of his hand and reading it out loud. “Spicy. As long as the two players are willing, kiss the player on your right for thirty seconds. Choose a player who will start the clock.”

The group awes at the task, and my blood runs hot beneath my skin.

Paxton is sitting on my right.

My shoulders drop. “Oh,” I say. “So you're saying you’re not willing?” I ask, trying to hold on to my playfulness but suddenly needing to know if that's why he was about to grab a new card. Was the idea of kissing me that terrible?

Paxton’s lips part and he smiles. “I'm fine with it,” he says. “I didn't want you to feel obligated because of the game.”

“Awww,” Blakely says, and a few others in the group mimic her.

“I can handle it. I don’t feel obligated,” I say, my heart rate taking off. “You’re in?”

Paxton's eyes lock with mine, a silent question and challenge there. “I’m in,” he says with absolute confidence, glancing at Reese. “Will you keep the time?”

Reese smiles, nodding as she grabs her phone.

“Tell me when you start the clock,” he says, and I swear I feel those words like an electric shock over my skin.

Reese and Blakely do this cough-laugh thing that I do my best to ignore, especially as Reese clicks her phone and says go .

Paxton shifts closer to me, his hands reaching to cradle my face as he looks down at me to gauge my reaction. I tip my head in a clear, consensual submission, everything in my body going tight with anticipation.

His eyes flicker from mine to my lips and back again as he inches closer, and the crowd around us disappears as he slants his mouth over mine.

Everything fades in that moment—the game, the timer, the sounds of our friends gasping and cheering us on—it all narrows to the way his lips feel against mine.

My hands fly to his chest as he kisses me, my fingers gripping his shirt as I gasp between his lips. His mouth is warm and strong, every explorative kiss making fire lick up my spine. I draw him closer, needing more of his body touching mine, something unleashing inside me as he parts my lips, gliding his tongue against mine.

God, that feels good.

He tastes like the minty soda water he’s been drinking all night, and my mind whirls with the sensation of his kiss. He tips my head, kissing me at a deeper angle, making me go loose and tight at the same time. A pulsing ache radiates between my thighs, my heart taking flight with every sipping kiss he delivers.

I’ve never been kissed like this.

With such passion, such insight to what makes my heart race and my breath catch. It’s like Paxton has kissed me a thousand times and knows exactly how to set me ablaze.

In that moment, everything aligns—a need and a dream I’ve never truly allowed myself to explore. One with me and Paxton and nothing between us—no secrets, no hidden feelings, no fear of losing him.

It’s everything… he’s everything.

Each pass of his lips or sweep of his tongue has me winding up like a tight string about to snap?—

“Time!” Reese says, snapping us both out of the kiss.

His eyes are on mine, molten and churning with something that screams that kiss was about more than just the game.

Or am I only seeing what I want to see?

The group around us is clapping and laughing, the sounds of the party around us coming back in a flash that has me blinking out of the luscious haze Paxton’s kiss put me under.

I blink a few times, grinning up at him before glancing at Blakely, then Reese who are both looking at me with shocked faces.

“I earned that card,” I say, eying the card in front of Paxton.

He laughs softly, nodding as he slides it in front of me. “You definitely earned that,” he says, his voice low between us, making warm shivers dance down my spine.

I do my best to quell the need in my voice while I read the next card, but it’s hard as hell to focus and enjoy the game.

After Pax’s earth-shattering kiss, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to function and act normal, let alone continue playing the game when all I can think about his how badly I want his lips back on mine.

Shit .

This is why I’ve never even contemplated crossing these lines with him before.

I’ve always known the second I did, there would be no going back.