Page 16

Wyatt

My class schedule aligns with Zane’s on Mondays and Wednesdays, so we’ve been riding to campus together.

The last time we pulled into the lot, he parked near the front and casually offered to walk me to class. I wanted to say yes—wanted those last few minutes with him before we had to go our separate ways—but we’re still in uncharted territory.

We haven’t discussed what we’ll do when someone inevitably sees us together.

Because it’s not a matter of if —but when .

Braysen might be a university, but in a small town like this? Word spreads fast. Throw in football players and relationships, and suddenly, you’ve got front-page gossip.

Zane’s hand rests on my knee as he backs out of the driveway, his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles against my skin.

He looks so effortlessly good today in a fitted Henley and denim jeans, his damp hair curling slightly at the edges from his shower after conditioning. There’s product in it—something to tame the messy strands—but it looks just unruly enough to remind me of when he used to grow it longer a few years back.

My fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and rake through it.

Instead, I settle for placing my hand over his.

“You’re staring.” His smirk is full of smug amusement, eyes flicking to me before focusing back on the road. “You like what you see there, firecracker?”

I roll my eyes, ignoring the way my pulse stutters at that nickname. “You’re so full of yourself, you know that?”

He chuckles. “It’s okay to admit you’ve got a crush on me. It’s not like I haven’t known for years.”

My scoff is immediate. “Years? Are you serious ?”

His smirk widens. “I mean, am I wrong?”

I huff, yanking my hand away on instinct, but he’s faster, locking his fingers between mine to keep our hands joined.

“Don’t pull away from me,” he murmurs, his voice dropping just enough to make my breath hitch. “I thought we both knew this wasn’t one-sided.” His thumb strokes over the back of my hand. “I like knowing you still stare at me after all this time.”

I scoff again, needing to find some footing in this conversation. “Be careful. If your ego gets any bigger, you’re gonna float away like a damn hot air balloon.”

He lets out a dry, exaggerated laugh, the kind that drips with sarcasm. “ Ha-ha. Real funny.”

By the time we pull into the campus lot, most of the spaces are already occupied since the earlier classes are still in session. He parks toward the back of the lot, shifting in his seat to face me with one arm draped along the top of the passenger seat.

His gaze roams over my face, something softer settling in his expression.

“Would it make you feel better to know I spent years trying not to openly stare at you too?”

I blink, caught off guard. “No, you didn’t.”

He arches a brow like my doubt amuses him.

“Are you calling me a liar?”

I shake my head, biting my lip. “Not exactly. I’m just saying… if you had been staring, I would’ve noticed at some point.”

His grin turns wicked as he leans in, pressing his palm to the side of my face, fingers tangling in my hair.

“Maybe.” His breath is warm against my lips, teasing. “Or maybe I’m just better than you at hiding it.”

I narrow my eyes, but my body betrays me, melting slightly under his touch.

“I still don’t believe it was as much time as you’re making it sound,” I whisper.

“Oh, trust me, I’d argue it was more time than I’d consider healthy.”

My cheeks heat at the thought.

“All those times you came over to swim in the pool with Myla. I remember the first time I saw you in a two-piece.” He rolls his head back, squeezing his eyes shut like the memory is too much to handle. “That cotton-candy-colored swimsuit that barely covered anything. You had no idea what you were doing to me.”

I raise a brow, feigning innocence. “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Call me jealous, possessive—I don’t give a damn—but I hated seeing you wear it around anyone but me.”

I choke out a laugh, expecting him to join in, but his expression turns serious.

“For starters, it was too small,” he continues, his voice dropping. “And I don’t mean that to be an asshole, but baby, that’s the year you started to… fill out your tops more, and holy fuck.” His jaw tightens. “All I could think about was how easy it would be to tug on that dainty little string and finally get to see those beautiful tits I’d been fantasizing about.”

My breath catches, my body reacting to his words before I can even process them.

“Zane.” His name comes out breathy, unsteady.

“And don’t get me started on the way your ass looked in those bottoms.”

“What else?” I ask, needing more—needing to hear every moment he saw me when I never thought he had.

His gaze softens like he’s flipping through a mental scrapbook of us. “I remember when you first cut your hair shorter. Junior year, I think. You always had long hair, but the moment you walked into the room with those wild curls and that confident smile, fuck…” He shakes his head like he’s seeing the memory play out in front of him. “You looked incredible. I would’ve loved your hair long, short, buzzed, whatever—but the way you felt good in your skin? That’s what got me.”

I swallow hard, remembering that moment, too.

Growing up, I’d spent years fighting my curls, desperately straightening them only for the Southern humidity to undo all my effort the second I stepped outside. But then, my mom found a stylist who specialized in curly hair, someone who taught me how to embrace it and let it be wild and free.

The first time I walked into my house after that appointment, I felt lighter—happy. That night, Colter was outside playing basketball with Zane and a few friends, and I remember how Zane’s gaze lingered a little longer than usual. I thought maybe I was imagining it. But now?

Now I know better.

“And those nights at your house,” he murmurs, pulling me back to the present with his quiet confession. “When Colter and I would hang out while your mom was at work, watching movies in the living room with the lights off? Most of the time, I wasn’t even paying attention to the movie. I was staring at you.”

Emotion knots in my throat, an ache deep in my chest from all the time lost—time I spent convinced I was the only one feeling this way.

I slide across the seat, closing the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his neck as my fingers graze his jaw.

“All this time, I thought you didn’t feel the same,” I whisper. “Thought you really did just see me as a little sister.”

His gaze darkens, his grip tightening on my waist. “Never.” His voice is rough, raw. “Protective, maybe. But never in a brotherly way.”

He kisses me before I can respond, his lips pressing against mine with a hunger that steals my breath. I melt into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as he deepens the kiss.

The voices in the parking lot grow louder, snapping me back to reality. I force myself to pull away, though every part of me protests.

“I should probably get going,” I murmur, reaching for my backpack on the floorboard.

“I’ll walk you to class.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I say, but I don’t make a move to stop him.

“What, is it against the rules to walk a friend to class?” He smirks, but there’s an edge to his voice.

I exhale, knowing exactly where this is going. “No, but we both know how things get twisted around here. If someone sees us together, it’s bound to get back to Colter—and who knows what version of the truth will actually make it to him.”

Zane shrugs, completely unfazed. “I don’t care, honestly.”

And the way he says it? Like nothing—not the rumors, not Colter, not anyone—could change the way he feels.

It does something to me.

He says it so matter-of-factly that it almost knocks the air out of my lungs. This is the same Zane Kinnick who spent years keeping me at arm’s length, making me believe I was always just out of reach.

And now? Now, he’s standing in front of me, looking at me like I’m his, like he has no intention of letting go.

It’s almost impossible to wrap my head around how fast everything has shifted between us.

“You really don’t care if Colter finds out?” I ask, searching his face for any trace of hesitation.

He shrugs. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal unless we make it one, right?”

I nod slowly, trying to absorb the ease with which he’s handling this—us.

“Besides,” he adds, smirking, “it’s not like Colter wasn’t sneaking around with his ex-teammate’s sister when he and Ava first got together. Seems a little hypocritical if you ask me.”

I let out a short laugh. “Okay, you have a point there.”

Without another word, he reaches for the door handle and climbs out of the car, rounding the front before I can even process what he’s doing. When he reaches my side, he opens my door and extends a hand, waiting for me to take it.

Something about the way he does it—so effortlessly, like it’s second nature—sends a warm, dangerous feeling curling in my chest.

He doesn’t let go of my hand as we walk into Vander Hall. Not until we reach the main corridor, where a steady stream of students filters through the hallway. That’s when he shifts, guiding me toward a quiet alcove just before the entrance to the student center.

“You want me to meet you here after class?” he asks.

I hesitate, glancing around at the passing faces, at the way a few people glance in our direction, their eyes skimming over him, then me, lingering on the space between us.

Zane notices.

His arm lifts, forearm pressing against the wall above my head, his body angled toward mine like a shield, like he’s blocking out the rest of the world.

“No?” he prompts when I don’t answer right away.

I clear my throat. “I was gonna ride with Tatum,” I explain. “We both have to work tonight at Sweet Tooth, so I figured I’d just go with her. Save you the hassle of coming back to pick me up.”

Zane’s fingers curl under my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “Save me the hassle?”

“You know what I mean,” I murmur, feeling small beneath his intense stare.

“No, actually, I don’t,” he counters. “You’ll have to explain that one to me.”

I exhale. “I just figured you had other things to do after class. And since Tatum and I are already going to the same place, it made sense.”

His eyes darken, and his jaw ticks. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Decide for me. Put words in my mouth.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “There’s never a single second spent with you that’s wasted for me.”

My heart stutters in my chest. Before I can recover, he leans in, brushing his lips over mine.

It’s barely a kiss, but it still manages to send a rush of heat through my veins, leaving me weak in the knees. My hands find his waist on instinct, holding on to him like I might float away.

His lips skim over my cheek and the corner of my jaw before stopping just below my ear.

“I don’t give a shit if everyone saw me kiss you,” he murmurs. “In fact, I hope they did.”

I swallow hard, tilting my head back to meet his eyes.

He’s not just saying it. He means every word.

“I’ll be here after class,” he continues, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. “You can ride with Tate if you want, but I still want to see you before you head to work. Even if it’s just for a few minutes. Okay?”

I nod, my voice failing me.

His gaze flicks between my eyes, reading every silent thought running through my head. “I’ve watched my dad learn the hard way about keeping his personal life private.” He exhales. “Make no mistake, Wy—I’ll never let my feelings for you be a secret again. You understand?”

My chest tightens. I nod again, but he shakes his head.

“I want to hear you say it.”

I grip the front of his shirt, wetting my lips before whispering, “I understand. Our relationship is private but not a secret.”

A slow, satisfied smirk tugs at his lips, but before he can respond, the bell rings, signaling the last minute before class starts.

“Shit,” I mutter. “I’m gonna be late.”

His hand drags down my side before he steps back, swatting my ass playfully. “I’m not worried about it,” he says, grinning. “Worth every second.”