bChapter /bb105/bb: /bbLa /bbPOV /b

    The second my body settles into the lecture hall chair, it hits me.

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    The press of the brick against my back. The weight of Hunter’s hands on my overheated body that was steady and hungry, yet reverent in its exploration. The way he kissed me as if he’d been holding his breath for months, and I was the only one who could give it back.

    I shift in my seat, my legs crossing in a move I try to pass off as casual. But it doesn’t help in the slightest.

    If anything, it makes everything worse. Because now all I can feel is the memory of his thigh sliding between mine, the way my body reacted like it already knew what woulde next, and the way his voice rasped against my skin as he sent me off to ss.

    It was as if he wanted to break me wide open, but not there, not like that, and not quite yet.

    The professor starts talking–something about economic policy, shifting market demands, or how none of this will matter once we’re drowning in student debt–but I catch maybe six words before the images drag me under again.

    Hunter’s breath, warm and wrecking, brushing just beneath my ear. The sound he made when I arched into him. The careful control in his hands, even when everything else felt like it was slipping from our grasp.

    I start doodling in the margins of my notebook, random loops and spirals that could imaybe /ipass for art if you squinted hard enough. I pretend like it’s productive, but it’s really not. I add a heart. Then another. Then something that looks dangerously close to his initials before I drop my forehead to the desk with a groan that escapes before I can trap it.

    The girl two seats over gives me a side–eye look like I might be contagious. She’s not wrong, though. Horny is absolutely an illness. And I’m not just infected–I’m terminal.

    I slide my phone out under the desk, thumbing open a message window to type a text

    8:59 Tue, bSep /bb9 /b

    Chapter 105: La POV

    ))

    80

    with the kind of shame I won’t admit out loud. Cade would absolutely make it worse. AJ would tease me until I begged for mercy. Xavier would probably know exactly what happened without me typing a single word.

    And Hunter? God help me–Hunter would walk into this ssroom, kiss me breathless, and then carry me out without even blinking, if I asked.

    So, I instead go for the safe bet.

    * La: How do you focus after being kissed so good your brain turns to soup? *

    * Ba: You don’t. Your brain is soup now. Embrace it. *

    * Ba: Also, you lucky bitch!

    b* /b

    I bite my lip to keep fromughing at her reply.

    The professor suddenly nces toward the back row, and I sit up straighter, pretending

    to care about the slide on the screen upfront about market sticity.

    Then, I write ‘Focus‘ in the corner of my notes and underline it. Three times.

    Then, I draw a very unhelpful sketch of a hoodie that suspiciously looks like Hunter’s.

    God. iI’m /iihopeless/i.

    But the thing is…it wasn’t just the kiss. It’s all of it. It’s how he looked at me like I

    wasn’t just something he wanted–I was something he chose.

    I was something he chose over caution, control, and reason.

    And now, I can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t pulled away, and if I’d begged him not to.

    The rest of the morning unravels like a ribbon–loose, winding, and impossible to tie

    down.

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    Chapter 105: La POV

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    I sit through two more lectures, maybe three, half–listening to people talk about graphs, data sets, and case studies while my brain decides to rey every detail of that alley encounter on an endless loop.

    I try to rein in my thoughts and daydreams–I really do. I highlight a paragraph here and there and take some notes every now and then, but none of it matters.

    All I can think about is the weight of Hunter’s body against mine. Or the way Xavier kissed me on the back porch, as if there wasn’t a future unless he tasted me first. Or the way AJ’s fingers were buried inside mest night. Or how Cade keeps orbiting me like I’m some gravitational force none of us were prepared for.

    This isn’t just infatuation. It’s something slower, heavier, and multiyered like an onion.

    It’s the feeling of being seen in my entirety and not being asked to dim anything down. It’s the sexual heat that follows you even when you’re sitting underneath fluorescent lecture lights, pretending you still care about participation points.

    By noon, I give up. I toss my books into my backpack, grab a venti coffee from my regr coffee cart on autopilot, and let the crisp air outside try to p some rity into ollime. /li/ol

    But, it doesn’t work. Because as soon as I sit on a bench near the quad, with my hot cup tucked between my hands, the ghost of his mouth brushes against my skin all over again.

    At the memory, I close my eyes and smile into the rim of my cup like a lovestruck idiot.

    When my coffee’s done, I head off–campus to run errands, starting with groceries for the house, a new notebook from the nearest stationery shop, and a ibag /iof chocte–covered pretzels from a kid outside the grocery store I absolutely don’t need but will devour on the ride home.

    I try to let the rhythm of constant movement lull me into something close to normal. And it almost does. But even in the stillness of standing in the check–out line, or during

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    Chapter 105: La POV

    the drive home, there’s this incessant hum beneath everything.

    A thread pulled tight between me and Hunter.

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    When I pull into the driveway byte afternoon, the sky has begun slowly morphing into a mnge of golds, pinks, and oranges, while shadows stretch longer across the

    sidewalks.

    I blink up at the house that’s backdropped by the fading light. And the word forms in my chest before it hits my lips.

    iHome/i.

    After a day of zero productivity, I’m back home. Back to their loud voices, strong coffee, and everyone’s sarcastic remarks. And back to stolen looks and idental touches that

    aren’t idental at all

    Also, it doesn’t feel like just a ce anymore. It feels like Hunter’s steadiness, Xavier’s quiet, Cade’s chaos, and AJ’s watchfulness, all rolled into one. It feels like a promise I never expected to find among four unlikely friends. And like a life I didn’t believe I was

    allowed to want.

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