(Chapter 36
Chapter 36
Bree
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me,
her
“Why are you putting makeup on me?” I asked Rachel, who stood humming in front of focus sharp as she leaned closer. “I’m about to go running, and I’ll be a sweating, panting mess. It won’t matter if I’m wearing mascara.”
A mischievous smile bloomed across her lips. “I know, silly,” she huffed, brushing a curl behind her ear. “But even if running kills you, you might as well look good doing it.”
Her teasing was light, but there was warmth in it too-a kind of care that wrapped around me and reminded me I wasn’t alone anymore. Rachel hadn’t forced me to talk about anything last night. She hadn’t asked questions, hadn’t cornered me, hadn’t made me feel like a confession was owed. All she’d said when I came back inside was, “If you need to talk about it, I’ve got two ears more than eager to listen.” That was all. No pressure, no pity-just quiet support. And as much as I hadn’t realized I needed it, I had.
“Do you wanna borrow some of my running clothes?” she asked now, turning back to the small table beside her where she’d spread out her makeup bag like an artist’s palette. She picked up the pencil I knew she used to fix my eyebrows, twirling it between her fingers before turning her focus
back to me.
“What’s wrong with my own?” I asked, arching a brow as she tilted my face toward the window’s light. I could see the little furrow between her brows as she concentrated, the soft brush of the pencil gliding across my skin.
“Nothing’s wrong with it, Bree,” she said, her voice steady, almost earnest. “But you have an amazing body, lots of curves, and you should show them off. You shouldn’t feel like you need to hide in baggy clothing.”
Her words struck something in me. She wasn’t wrong. I had been hiding, shrinking myself as though disappearing into loose fabrics might keep me safe. The colors of my clothing had dulled over the few weeks, mirroring the way my life had dulled too. Before Oliver, I used to be brighter. I wore little bursts of color, things that made me stand out just enough. Not like I’d ever been a fashion icon, but I’d cared. I’d liked the way clothes could make me feel-playful, bold, sometimes
even pretty.
After him, though? I stopped. The brightness faded. I’d thrown on dark clothes and shapeless shirts like armor. There were days I didn’t even bother brushing my hair, just tugging it into a messy bun that stuck out at all angles. It hadn’t mattered, not when I’d already been convinced I wasn’t worth noticing. I had let him smother that spark, let him dim the fire that had once made me feel
like me.
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But maybe Rachel was right. Maybe I didn’t have to hide anymore. Maybe I could own the changes in my body-the muscle slowly forming in my legs from all this running, the way my stomach didn’t feel as bloated anymore, the strength I was quietly rebuilding piece by piece. Maybe it wasn’t about hiding, but about stepping out again, even if it scared me.
Or maybe it wasn’t about “everyone.” Maybe it was about one person. About letting Gage be the one who got to see me, the one who told me what he thought. Because when he called me gorgeous, when he looked at me like I drove him crazy, it felt like my body wasn’t just mine to be ashamed of. It felt like it was something to be celebrated.
“Treat me like your Barbie doll, Rachel,” I grinned, watching her eyes light up as her smile grew even
wider.
A few minutes later, I stepped out of the hut with a spring in my step. I wore a pair of tight running shorts that ended just above my knees-Rachel had promised they wouldn’t roll up, though I still wasn’t entirely convinced. A cropped t-shirt hugged my frame just right, hinting at my waist and the curve of my hips. She’d braided my hair into two sleek plaits that made it feel fuller, softer, like it belonged to someone who had her life a little more together than I did. With the light touch of mascara and the faint shaping of my eyebrows, I caught my reflection in the glass and-for the first time in a long time-I didn’t look tired. I looked… good. Maybe even a little sexy.
Those feelings only sharpened when Gage’s gaze landed on me. His green eyes swept over me once, twice, lingering on every curve, every line of my body like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. His lips parted slightly, his hand coming up to rub over his mouth while his other clenched at his side as though he was fighting something back.
“Morning,” I greeted, unable to stop the bounce in my step as I moved down from the hut.
He looked infuriatingly good himself-broad shoulders filling out his t-shirt, muscles flexing beneath the fabric, his backwards cap shadowing his sharp features in a way that only made him more attractive. My heart thumped harder just looking at him, and I felt Rachel’s words echo inside
“You’re not playing fair, gorgeous,” he murmured when I reached him, his hands sliding around my hips, fingers pressing into the fabric there before gathering behind my back. His touch was hot, solid, grounding. “This isn’t gonna be a morning run.”
I blinked up at him, my brows furrowing slightly as my hands slid over the firm strength of his arms before resting on his shoulders. “What do you mean?”
A sinful smirk curved over his lips, his voice dropping low enough to vibrate through me. “This is gonna be a morning chase instead.” And before I could react, his mouth was on mine, hot and
hungry.
I smiled against his lips, warmth unfurling in my chest. God, I loved how easy kissing him was-
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how he never seemed to care about who was watching, how he just claimed me without hesitation. “I don’t think I would mind you chasing me a little,” I whispered when he pulled back, my
lips still tingling.
His hand slipped lower, fingers grazing the curve of my ass without quite covering it, but the touch was enough to make my body heat instantly. “It won’t just be a little, Bree,” he warned, his eyes flashing with something dark and playful. “You better be ready to run.”
**
I cheered as loudly as I could, my palms stinging from how hard I was clapping, my voice rising
above the crowd in a raw whoop that echoed across the field. My whole body was buzzing, alive
with the energy around me. Everyone else on the sidelines was just as invested, girls giggling as they eyed every single man out there, guys shouting instructions like their yelling could actually
change the game.
I didn’t know the rules all that well-I’d never really watched football before-but I’d pieced together the basics. Whenever the ball-thingy made it down the far side, past the cluster of sweaty players, that meant Gage’s team had scored. A goal, or whatever they called it. Honestly, I didn’t need to know the technicalities. The only thing that mattered was seeing Gage out there, his broad
shoulders moving with power, his body dominating the field like he was born for it.
And it struck me, as I stood there yelling myself hoarse, how different everything was now. Just a few mornings ago, I’d woken up with the same dread pressing down on my chest, the same reflex to check my phone and brace for the worst. Except instead of an email from the Dean, I’d found something else. My mom had blown up my phone-dozens of missed calls, strings of texts urging
me to call her back right away.
When I finally did, she squealed so loudly I had to pull the phone away from my ear. The group was gone. Vanished. Deleted like it had never existed. When she searched my name now, only my normal profile popped up. She was convinced her relentless campaign-the calls, the emails, the complaints-had finally forced someone to act. Maybe she was right. Maybe she wasn’t. All I knew
was that it didn’t matter. The group was gone.
And just like that, a weight I hadn’t even realized I’d been dragging for months was suddenly gone too. My chest felt lighter, my lungs fuller, like I could finally breathe again. For the first time in what
felt like forever, I had my name back. My control.
After we’d screamed and cried together over the phone, I’d told her about camp. About the confiscated phones, about the bonfire, about Gabriella and her downfall. And then, timidly, I’d told her about Gage. About the boy who had somehow stolen my heart when I wasn’t even sure I had pieces left to give. She’d been ecstatic, gushing her congratulations, though she’d still reminded me of her favorite warning-that sometimes things that felt too good to be true were just that. But she’d also told me not to close myself off. To trust him until he gave me a reason not to.
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<Chapter 36
More Rewards)
The very next day, another email had come through from the Dean. She told me she was thrilled
the “social media situation” seemed resolved. She wanted to reinstate my scholarship, and she
also wanted me to visit her in person once I was back on campus-to welcome me back, but also, I suspected, to talk through everything that had happened.
It felt like the universe had flipped on its head. My life was falling into place in ways I never dared
dream. And the biggest reason for it-the anchor at the center of this storm-was the gorgeous,
infuriating, delicious man running across the field right now. Gage.
The last few days had only pulled us closer. I’d found myself telling him everything, every thought
that crossed my mind, every little insecurity or silly joke. And he soaked it up. He wanted it. He
made me feel like there was nothing I couldn’t share, no piece of me he wouldn’t take and hold
carefully in his hands.
We were together constantly. In class, where our knees brushed under the table because we
couldn’t stop reaching for each other. In the kitchen, where every cooking session ended with us
pressed against each other until Rachel rolled her eyes and kicked us apart. During boot camp,
where I watched his muscles flex and he made a point to spot me, his hands steady at my back.
Our morning runs were less about cardio and more about lacing our fingers together, sweaty
palms and all, as if letting go wasn’t even an option.
We weren’t just falling-we were locking into place.
And it wasn’t just Gage. Caleb had become a true friend, someone who could always make me
laugh, who didn’t treat me with pity but as if I actually belonged. He’d started seeing a girl here too,
their lips often fused together whenever I spotted them. But when I teased him about it, he
admitted it was just a summer fling-she went to school across the country, and they both knew it
couldn’t last. Still, he looked happy, and that made me happy for him.
Then there was Miguel and Kenneth, who had unofficially adopted me as their main source of
entertainment. Not in a cruel way, but in the kind of playful way that made me feel like part of the
group. They teased me, asked me ridiculous questions, tried to puzzle through my “womanly thought process,” and in return I got a glimpse into the chaos that was their male minds. And honestly? They were gross. Hilariously, disgustingly gross-half of their thoughts seemed to boil
down to boobs and beer.
But it was fun. It was safe. It was belonging.
And right now, belonging felt a lot like screaming myself hoarse for the boy I couldn’t stop falling
for.
I jumped up and down, clapping harder as I watched Gage charge down the field, muscles coiling like a predator’s before he sent the ball flying over that final line. The sound around me exploded- cheers, whistles, laughter-and I threw myself into it, cupping my hands around my mouth to
scream his name until my throat burned.
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Because he’d just scored. Because he was incredible. Because he was mine.
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Gage kept calling me his girl, saying it with that confidence, that certainty that made my knees
weak every single time. And if I was his, then he was just as much mine
