Gage was right–Savannah never came back with the drinks. At first, I half–expected to see her reappear with two cups sloshing dangerously in her hands, a triumphant grin on her face. But the minutes stretched and blurred with the thrum of bass, and she was gone. I should have minded. Once upon a time, I would have. But standing there, swallowed by the crowd and the music, wrapped in the heat of Gage’s body against mine, I realized I didn’t care. Not
even a little.
Because right there, in the middle of the dancefloor, pressed chest–to–chest, it felt like everything outside of us dimmed and softened. It was like we had stepped back into that summer night, back at camp, like we’d simply pressed unpause and picked up where we left off. His bright smile was still the same, that unfairly perfect one that tugged a dimple into his left cheek. His green eyes still glimmered with that quiet mischief that always undid me, and even in the dark pulsing light of the common room, they seemed to find me with unerring precision. And the real killer–the thing that unraveled me entirely–was his hands. Those strong, rough palms moved over me like they had every right to, skimming, pressing, guiding. He touched me as if my body was already mapped out by his fingertips. And maybe it was. Maybe it had been his all along, even during those weeks I’d spent running from the truth.
I’d been tipsy when he found me. That much was true. The warmth of the alcohol had fuzzed my edges, made my laughter come easier, made it simpler to lean back into his arms when he wrapped them around me and squeezed. But as the songs bled into each other, the drinks faded, and the heat between us sharpened into something clean, something undeniable. The alcohol had worn off. What remained was me. And him. And the low burn of wanting that licked through every nerve ending in my body.
But this time, I wasn’t going to let it just be about wanting. Not this time. This time, I was determined to show him I was serious, that I could meet him where he’d been waiting for me all along. I was done hesitating, done being the one who pulled away. He had been there every step of the way, patient and steady and still impossibly Gage. Tonight was my turn to prove something. Tonight, I would be all in.
The speakers pumped out a steady, heavy beat, and we moved with it–our bodies swaying in unison, closer and closer until there was no space between us. My hands stayed looped behind his neck, fingertips brushing at the hair at his nape, marveling at how soft it felt under my touch. His palms slid up my spine, pressing me flush against him before gliding back down to my hips again, holding me there. The rhythm of it, the push and pull of his hands, was almost hypnotic. I wanted to stay like this forever.
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And in that moment, with the crowd pressing in and yet feeling miles away, it did feel like forever. Like there was no one else. Like we’d built a small, invisible bubble in the middle of the chaos and climbed inside. What stung was knowing I’d been the one to pop it before. I’d been the one to pull back, to run. My fault. My loss.
I rose on my toes, drawn up by something that wasn’t just impulse but need. Gage, being Gage, sensed it instantly, lowering his head to meet me halfway. My lips brushed the shell of his ear, the words trembling against his skin before they escaped me.
“I miss you,” I whispered, the confession catching in my throat. It felt ridiculous to say it when I was pressed so close against him already, ridiculous and necessary all at once.
But it was the truth. I missed him. Missed the boy who had held my hand when I couldn’t breathe, missed the way he’d laughed with me until our sides hurt, missed the smell of his skin baked into summer nights. Missed everything we had been before everything fell apart. If I could, I would snap my fingers and pluck us straight out of this crowded room and drop us back at Camp Sunny–back into the sunlit afternoons and whispered secrets, where we hadn’t yet hurt each other and everything had felt impossibly simple. Where we hadn’t had to claw our way through the wreckage to stand like this again.
His hands shifted as if he could feel that ache bleeding out of me. The playful grip of dancing melted into something steadier, more like a hug than a hold. He pressed me closer, palms spreading over my back, and lowered his head. The edge of his nose skimmed the slope of my throat, a slow drag that left a trail of shivers in its wake. Every nerve ending in my body lit up like it was being called home.
“I miss you too, gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice a low promise against my skin.
I closed my eyes, letting myself dissolve into the warmth of him, letting my forehead fall against his shoulder as his body heat seeped into mine. Every inhale drew him deeper–his scent filling my lungs, his heartbeat thrumming against my chest through the thin layers of fabric. I let myself feel it. Let myself want it. Enjoying every second of his attention, soaking it up like I’d been starving for it.
“Never again,” he whispered, his lips brushing the spot just below my ear–soft, deliberate, a vow disguised as a kiss.
“Never again,” I echoed, and I couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at my lips, couldn’t stop the swell in my chest. It felt like a vow being etched into my skin, something I’d carry even if we were dragged apart again.
His arms tightened around me and for a heartbeat I thought I might combust right there on the sticky dancefloor. The press of his chest at my back, the scent of him–clean sweat and something warm and masculine–the weight of his chin just above my temple. I felt like the
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luckiest girl alive, like I had stumbled into a version of my life where second chances weren’t only possible but real. I could do this. I could choose him and keep choosing him. I wouldn’t run anymore, not unless it was straight into his arms.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, the words a low, delicious rumble against my skin.
“I thought you’d never ask,” I breathed, my smile brushing against his neck. I felt the curve of his answering grin before he even pulled back.
His hands slid up, gently tugging mine from behind his neck. Then he turned me, a quick, fluid movement that made me gasp, my back pressing up against his front. One of his arms folded around my shoulders, right above my chest, firm and protective, while his other hand guided me forward. Together, we moved, weaving our way out of the crush of bodies.
I realized what he was doing even before we cleared the crowd. He was shielding me, keeping my body tucked against his so no one could jostle me, absorbing every stray bump himself. Gage Simmons, the golden boy who could’ve had anyone, walking me out like I was precious cargo. Just another quiet, wordless perk of being his.
His girl. The thought made my heart stutter. That’s what I was now, wasn’t I? Even if he hadn’t yet said the word “girlfriend” out loud, everything about tonight felt like a claim, like a declaration no one else could hear but us. Since the moment he’d laid eyes on me outside my dorm, he’d been moving toward this. Toward me. And for the first time in a long time, I felt myself moving right back.
Fresh air hit my lungs like a wave the second we slipped through the heavy doors of Blakely Hall. The thump of bass dulled behind us, replaced by the softer hush of night air. It felt cool and crisp, curling into my chest and lifting me from the inside out, like I’d just taken the first real breath all evening. For a heartbeat, it felt as though I wasn’t just walking down the stairs; I was floating, weightless, my feet barely skimming the concrete. All the nervous tension and dread I’d dragged with me into the party–the heavy, twisting worry over what might happen tonight–melted off my shoulders. Because I had him. I’d gotten my man. I had said it out loud, made it clear, stated my intentions without running from them.
But as soon as my heels touched the pavement, the moment cracked. My eyes widened, nearly bugging out of my head at the sight just a few feet away. Savannah–my sweet, wild Savannah–was being practically swallowed whole by Kenneth. Her eyes were closed, lashes brushing her cheeks, a blissed–out smile curving her lips. Her head tilted back in surrender as his big hands wrapped around her, his face buried just below her chin. Kenneth the big, burly football player, hunched over like he’d forgotten the rest of the world even existed. His arms were tight, locked around her like she might vanish if he let go. The two of them were oblivious to everything happening around them–students trickling out, the glow of streetlamps, the echo of music through the doors.
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“Told you,” Gage murmured from behind me, his breath fanning warm over the shell of my ear. The teasing lilt in his voice sent a little shiver down my spine.
“I cannot believe it,” I said, a disbelieving chuckle tumbling from my lips as Gage’s hand stayed at the small of my back, guiding me down the pavement and away from the glorified frat house behind us. “No offense to Kenneth, but I never would’ve thought those two would
hit it off.”
“1
Gage’s laugh was low and rich, vibrating against me as his arm squeezed me closer. Sometimes a flicker just needs a heavy dose of jello shots,” he said, grinning, and the mental image made me laugh harder.
I shook my head at him, amused, because of course Savannah would end up like this. She’d been the one responsible for me discovering the world of jello shots in the first place–lining them up, daring me, making me forget I even cared about counting. And tonight, she had definitely taken her own medicine.
Gage shifted at my side, no longer walking directly behind me but stepping to match my stride, his shoulder brushing mine. His arm slid from my front to drape around the back of my neck instead, a casual but unmistakably possessive gesture, drawing me in until our bodies were moving as one. The warmth of him seeped through my clothes, making me acutely aware of every place we touched.
“What do you wanna do now, gorgeous?” he asked, glancing down at me. The green of his eyes caught the glow of a streetlamp, turning them into flecks of emerald. I’d seen that twinkle before–at camp, in hallways, in stolen moments–but after weeks without it, it felt like seeing the northern lights. It lit something inside me, made every atom in my body hum.
“I don’t care,” I said, looking up at him, my voice softer than I intended. “Just as long as I’m still with you.”
A grin spread across his face, wide and easy, showing off those perfect white teeth. He leaned down, the smell of him–clean sweat and soap–slipping under my skin as his lips brushed my temple. It was a kiss but also a promise, quiet and certain. “I know just what you need then,” he murmured.
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Emilia M
+25 Points
”
So, I just wanted to address something… I know I haven’t been all that regular with posting. chapters lately. But I want to make something clear, I write as much as I can, when I can. I work besides this, I have family and friends, and I also have other hobbies that I love. And sometimes it just gets too much… I take pride in every chapter I write, and I want to make sure you don’t waste your money on something that isn’t good. With that said, I will always finish my stories. Once a story of mine enters PTR, I will always make sure to conclude it. You will have your ending, and hopefully it’ll be an ending you’ll love.
And while I hate having to write this, I also just wanna say thanks. Because I know a lot of you support me, and that a lot of you will wait patiently for my stories. I truly appreciate it I read every single one of your comments, and I appreciate every single moon ticket you throw my way. Thank you so much, I truly do not have words for how much it means to me.
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