Sunlight streams through my bedroom window as my eyes flutter open. Last night was like a fever dream. Between the party, Harper’s prophecy, meeting his family, the frustration of being interrupted twice, and then the FaceTime call. Oh God.

    I feel my cheeks heat just thinking about it. I don’t know this adventurous woman I am when I’m with him, but that was the point of my list.

    My phone dings on the nightstand, and I see it’s just past ten in the morning. I bolt out of bed, realizing I haven’t slept thiste in years.

    Nick

    Morning, beautiful. Still on for apple picking?

    Julie

    Yes. What time?

    Nick

    When you’re ready. Patterson’s still passed out. Going to leave him here with a note, telling him to fuck off. And the code.

    Iugh, already climbing out of bed.

    Julie

    Poor Patterson.

    Nick

    Poor Patterson, nothing. His timing is absolute shit. Be there in 30?

    Julie

    Make it 45. I need coffee and a shower.

    Nick

    Take your time. See you soon!

    Julie

    Perfect.

    I shower, my mind drifting to his hands, his voice telling me exactly what to dost night. It’s only been six days since we started this fake-dating thing. Six days. That’s nothing. So, why does it feel like so much more?

    It’s because this invisible string has kept us tethered together for a year.

    When Nick arrives, his hair is a mess, like he just ran his fingers through it. My eyes slide down his white button-up and dark cks. Somehow, he’s sophisticatedly casual.

    “Hi,” I say, suddenly shy.

    “Hi, yourself.” He steps inside and gently pulls me against him. “I need to kiss you.”

    “Please,” I whisper.

    His mouth captures mine, and I lose track of reality. Our tongues slide together, and I’m tempted to pull him to the couch with me. Before I gain the courage, he pulls away. We’re both breathing too hard, and we’re too heated.

    “Ready?” he asks.

    “After that? I don’t ever want to leave.”

    “Well, I kinda rented the orchard for us.”

    My eyes widen. “The entire thing?”

    “Yeah,” he admits. “I wanted it to be private. I don’t want wandering eyes.”

    I can’t help but smile. “I can’t believe this. You just asked them how much they’d take?”

    “I asked them how much they made per day, and I told them I’d triple it if they gave us the afternoon.”

    I’m shocked.

    He shakes his head. “You’re so damn cute.”

    The drive to Coleman’s Orchard is filled withfortable silence, his hand on my thigh the entire time.

    Mrs. Coleman greets us at the entrance with a knowing smile.

    “I was wondering if you were bluffing,” she tells Nick. “Nice to see you, Julie.”

    “Hi, Mrs. Coleman. This is my boyfriend, Nick,” I say, sitting forward to chat with her.

    The entire Coleman family moved to Colorado from Ohoma several decades ago and started this farm. It’s been here my whole life.

    “Nice to meet you,” he says, and it amazes me how damn charming he is without even trying.

    She notices me staring at him.

    “Well, you two go ahead and drive through. Going to lock the gate behind you. The Honeycrisp apples are perfect right now. Back section, row fifteen. Very private with lots of shade.” She winks.

    I’m mortified, but Nick grins, taking the gathering baskets she offers us.

    After we park, he grabs the pic basket from the back before reaching for my hand.

    We wander deep into the orchard, the mid-morning sun filtering through leaves that are starting to turn gold. When I look over at him, I capture the moment in my memory. I want to remember how he smiles at me and how our fingers brush together as we walk. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about a man before. The thought should scare me, but when he looks at me like this, I’m like a moth to a me. At least the end will be beautiful.

    Row fifteen ispletely secluded, surrounded by tall grass and wildflowers.

    Heys out the checkered nket and ces the pic basket on top to keep it from blowing away in the cool breeze.

    We take our time picking apples, filling our wicker baskets while stealing nces and touches. The tension between us builds with every idental brush of fingers, every moment our eyes meet.

    “Have you ever done this before?” I ask as he lifts me up to reach one.

    “Nope,” he admits. “It’s a first.”

    I smile. “I like knowing there are still things reserved for us.”

    He chuckles. “Oh, I’ve had many firsts with you, sweetheart.”

    “Yeah? Like what?”

    “Well, for starters, I’ve never ordered or drank a pumpkin spicette until yours.”

    I gasp. “No way.”

    “Swear,” he says. “I don’t particrly care for bougie drinks. But if you make it, I’m drinking it.”

    That shouldn’t mean that much to me, but it does.

    “What else?”

    “I’ve never done yoga in my life.”

    This makes me giggle.

    Once our baskets are full, we make our way back to the nket in the shade between two overhanging trees. Sunlight reflects through the branches.

    We settle beside one another, and Nick unpacks the lunch he brought. He made fancy sandwiches, and he also has several containers of cut strawberries and grapes, several different cheeses, and a bottle of apple cider from the orchard.

    I snag a grape and pop it in my mouth as he hands me a clear stic cup of cider.

    The sweetness dances on my tongue.

    “You thought of everything,” I say, watching him arrange the food between us.

    “I wanted today to be perfect.” He pours himself some cider. “No interruptions, no onlookers, no cosmic interference. Just us.”

    We eat, talking about everything and nothing. He tells me about morning practices on frozen rinks and about the adrenaline of yoff games, and I realize how much he misses ying. I tell him about early mornings at the coffee shop, about thefort of routine, and my fear of being stuck in life.

    “Can I tell you something?” he asks.

    “Of course,” I say as we pick up the food, putting it away.

    “When I saw you that night at Bookers, something in me recognized you. Like my soul was saying, Oh, there you are. I tried to ignore it, tried to forget when I left. But then January happened, and now …” He trails off.

    My heart races.

    “I’m not asking you to say anything back,” he says quickly. “We have weeks to figure this out. Our deadline still exists. I just need you to know this isn’t new. It seems like it’s happening fast, but I think it’s been a long timeing.”

    I move closer to him. “I get that. I felt it too.”

    “Yeah?”

    Instead of answering, I kiss him. What starts timid turns desperate. His hands tangle in my hair as I shift to straddle hisp.

    “Jules,” he breathes against my mouth.

    “I need you,” I whisper. “Please. I can’t wait anymore.”

    “Here?” But his hands are already under my sweater, finding bare skin.

    “Here. Now.” I’m practically begging, grinding against him. “No more interruptions. No more waiting.”

    He groans, flipping us so I’m on my back on the nket. The sun filters through the apple trees above us as he pulls my sweater off, then his shirt.

    “You’re so beautiful.” His mouth finds my neck. “So perfect.”

    We’re frantic, desperate. The forey made us animalistic. When he reaches for his pocket, he freezes.

    “I didn’t n for this,” he admits.

    “I don’t care,” I gasp, pulling him back down. “I’m on birth control. I haven’t been with anyone since Craig over a year ago.”

    “I haven’t been with anyone since I met you.” He searches my face.

    “Really?” I ask, almost shocked.

    “Yes,” he breathes, capturing my mouth again.

    His hands are everywhere, desperate and as greedy as his mouth. We undress each other with shaking fingers, clothes scattered across the nket. When he sees me fully naked in the sunlight, he pauses.

    “You’re mine,” he whispers, and his eyes sh with need.

    Heys me down on my back, and the nket underneath me is rough against my bare ass. As he kisses up my neck, the cool autumn air nips at my flushed skin.

    As he pulls away, positioning himself between my thighs, I lift myself upright onto my elbows. His thick cock is hard and leaking pre-cum, glistening in the sunlight. I can smell him, and I want to taste him. It’s a heady mixture of masculine and expensive cologne.

    When he looks at me like I’m everything he’s ever wanted, it makes my cunt pulse with need.

    I reach for him, pulling him down to me.

    He kisses me deeply as he settles at my entrance, still not giving me what I want. There is nothing else in the entire world that matters right now. I breathe out, anticipating him, needing him with my legs spread wide. He grins against my lips.

    “You’re so wet for me.” He growls.

    His fingers trail over my slit, teasing me, spreading my folds. I gasp as he circles my clit, sending electric jolts through my body.

    “You want this cock, don’t you?”

    “Yes,” I moan, my voice full of need. “Give yourself to me, Nick.”

    He slides a finger inside me, curling it just right, hitting that sweet spot that makes me arch off the nket. My cunt clenches around him, greedy for more.

    “Not yet,” he whispers, his breath hot against my neck. “I’m gonna make you beg first.”

    He adds another finger, thrusting them in and out of me, his pace quickening. I can feel the pressure building, my pussy getting tighter, wetter. His thumb rubs circles on my clit, and I’m panting, my hips bucking against his hand.

    “I’m gonna?—”

    He slowly pulls his fingers out, leaving me aching.

    He repositions himself between my legs, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance. Nick leans down, his lips brushing against mine.

    “Nics Banks, fuck me,” I state, my hands wing at his back.

    He thrusts into me hard, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke. I cry out, the fullness overwhelming. He pauses, letting me adjust, his breath warm against my skin.

    “You’re tight.” He groans, his voice strained.

    “You’re too big,” I muster. “I feel like you’re breaking me in two.”

    “We’ll go slow. I’ll let you get used to me carving my path. It will never be like this with anyone else,” he tells me.

    “I know,” I say, my eyes squeezing closed as he moves slowly.

    He pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in. Each thrust hits me deep. I moan, my nails digging into his shoulders, as he picks up the pace.

    “Harder,” I beg, my voice shaking. “Please, harder. It feels really good.”

    He ms into me, not picking up the pace, just thrusting deeper. He stretches me wide, hitting me just right. The orgasm coils tighter, and my control is ready to snap. His fingers find my clit again, rubbing it as he pounds into me relentlessly.

    “Oh, oh, Nick. Keep doing that,” I whimper, the build happening fast.

    The sensation of him inside me with nothing between us is overwhelming. The sun warms our skin, and the apple-scented air surrounds us.

    “You feel …” He can’t finish.

    “I know.” I gasp, wrapping my legs tighter around him. “I can’t describe it either.”

    What we’re doing is something else entirely. Every thrust, every kiss, every whispered word breaks down another wall between us. Everything ceases to exist outside of this.

    “Look at me,” he says, and when I do, the expression on his face breaks something open in my chest.

    “Nick,” I moan, getting close to seeing actual stars. “I’m so close.”

    “Let go for me, sweetheart,” he whispers.

    “I want you toe with me,” I breathlessly say.

    I can feel the pressure building until it’s unbearable.

    He doesn’t stop, his thrusts bing erratic, his breathing ragged.

    “I will,” he promises, mming into me onest time before he stills, his cock pulsing inside me as he fills me full.

    My body tenses, my cunt mping down around him, and then it happens. I scream as my orgasm hits me, waves of pleasure crashing over me as I squirt all over his cock, soaking the nket beneath us. It’s intense, like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and I don’t recognize the sounding out of me.

    We’re a tangled mess of sweat and satisfaction. We stay joined, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. I can feel him still pulsing inside me, along with the warmth of what we just shared.

    “That was …” I can’t find words.

    “Everything,” he finishes.

    I can still feel him between my thighs and know where he’s been, will be evidentter. But right now, the world feels different, like that one experience changed it all.

    “We just …” I trail off.

    “I know,” he whispers.

    His cock slips out of me, and I can feel him dripping down my thighs. He kisses me, his hands roaming over my body before he helps clean me with some paper towels from the pic basket.

    “You’re a dream,” he says as we get dressed.

    I grin, my body still tingling with aftershocks of having him exactly how I wanted him. “And you’re a fantasy.”

    The clouds cast shadows on the orchard as we gather the pic supplies. We’re both aware that we’ve crossed a line we can’t uncross.

    “Stay with me tonight?” I ask.

    “I’d love to,” he says. “I want to wake up with you in my arms tomorrow.”

    Butterflies flutter inside me. “I want that too.”

    As we drive back, I keep ncing at him, at our joined hands, thinking about what just happened.

    It was a im. A promise. A beginning to something that feels bigger than both of us. And we both know it.

    “Something just changed,” I whisper. My head is still screaming that six days is too fast; my heart is whispering that maybe time doesn’t matter when you find your person.

    “Everything did,” he says. “But we have time. I’m not going anywhere.”

    As we drive on the outskirts of Cozy Creek, Nick nces at me. “We should stop at the cabin,” he says. “I need to grab some things if I’m staying with you.”

    “Sure. You can turn up here on this road. It connects,” I tell him.

    Six minutester, we pull up to Riverside, and Patterson’s rental car is there.

    Nick kisses my fingers. “Come in with me?”

    I nod.

    Inside, Patterson is sprawled on the couch, ying on his phone.

    “There you are!” He sits upright when he sees Nick. “Dude, I’ve been texting you all day.”

    “I was busy. Visited the orchard,” Nick says, and then I step into view.

    Patterson’s eyesnd on me, taking in my messy hair, swollen lips, and the way Nick’s hand rests possessively on my lower back.

    A knowing grin spreads across his face.

    “Yeah?” He waggles his eyebrows. “How ’bout them apples?”

    “Patterson,” Nick says, rolling his eyes. “Grow up.”

    My cheeks burn.

    “Oh, I’m staying at Julie’s tonight.”

    “Great! I’m having a party and inviting all the local singledies,” Patterson says with augh.

    “No parties, please. The woman who rented to me lives two houses down, and she’s watching the ce, trust me.”

    He stands up, moves to the kitchen, and opens the fridge. “I’ll invite her in to hang out with us.”

    “I’ll be right back,” Nick says, disappearing upstairs to pack a bag, leaving me alone with Patterson.

    “You’re good for him,” Patterson says, his tone serious. The flirty, suave attitude is gone. “I’ve never seen him like this.”

    “Wait, you can just turn it off like that?”

    He grins. “Don’t break my friend’s heart, okay? I don’t think he can handle that right now.”

    “Him handle it? Are you kidding me? I’m more worried about him breaking mine,” I admit.

    Patterson shakes his head. “You don’t see the way he looks at you when you’re not watching. I’ve never seen him like this, and we’ve been friends for fifteen years.”

    Before I can respond, Nick returns with a duffel bag.

    “Ready?” he asks.

    “Yeah.”

    “Bye, Jules. Nice chat.”

    I meet his eyes. “Nice chat.”

    As we drive to my ce, I think about what Patterson said.

    “You’re quiet,” Nick observes.

    “Just thinking.”

    “About?”

    “About how we’re supposed to be fake dating.”

    He pulls onto the street in front of my condo and turns to me. “No decisions. One day at a time.”

    “Nick …”

    “You already know how this ends.”

    “How?”

    He shoots me a wink. “You know.”

    My heart pounds as we head inside.

    Nick Banks is staying with me, we just made love in an apple orchard, and nothing about this feels temporary anymore.

    As he sets his bag in my bedroom, he pulls me against him.

    “Still no regrets?” he asks.

    “None,” I whisper. “You?”

    “Only that it took us this long.”

    “It’s been six days,” I whisper.

    “It’s been eleven months,” he says.

    And as he kisses me again, it’s full of promise, and I realize then that we’re not pretending.

    Were we ever?