James was talking again. Something about a girl from psych class who wouldn’t stop texting him, or maybe it was the girl from the gym who accidentally sent him a shirtless pic. I didn’t know. I wasn’t really listening.I just sat there, fork scraping against my plate as I pushed my eggs around like I was six years old and couldn’t stomach vegetables. The diner was warm, loud with afternoon clatter, and the scent of burnt bacon hung around like an unwanted guest. I could barely taste my food, but I kept chewing anyway, pretending to be human.James, of course, didn’t notice. Or maybe he did and just didn’t say anything. He was on a roll—hand gestures, animated expressions, half-laughing at his own stories like he was auditioning for a talk show.I blinked at him, tuning in halfway through some tangent about packing cubes and TSA agents with superiority complexes.“—and anyway, I told the girl, if you’re gonna grope me at security, you better buy me dinner first, right?” James snorted,
I woke up with a leg thrown over my thigh and a soft snore blowing warm air against my collarbone. For a second, I forgot where I was. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar—off-white, slightly stained in one corner, the fan slow and unbalanced. The bed beneath me creaked when I shifted, and the blanket was barely covering either of us. But the weight next to me—that grounding presence against my chest—felt more familiar than anything ever had. Andrew. He was still asleep. His face was turned toward me, half-buried in the crook of my arm, lashes brushing against my skin with every tiny exhale. His brows were relaxed, for once. His lips—pink, swollen, parted—looked too soft for how sharp his words usually were. I blinked slowly, trying to keep my breathing steady. He looked peaceful. And fuck if that didn’t twist something inside me. I didn’t move. Didn’t dare. Because I didn’t know what the hell came next. My hand hovered in the space between us, unsure whether to pull him clos
I nudged the crown of my cock against his tight, slick hole and slowly pressed in. Andrew jerked beneath me, his ass writhing, pushing back, desperate to take more—like his body was trying to swallow me whole. Goddamn it. I was losing my fucking mind. “Easy,” I groaned, though my voice broke halfway through the word. I thrust in deeper, then bottomed out with one steady, forceful push. He let out a guttural growl, his spine arching. “Fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice raw, wrecked. He turned his head to the side, cheek pressed to the mattress, and his eyes—hooded, wet, burning with heat—met mine. I gripped his hips, grounding myself, and began thrusting shallowly, rolling my hips against him with tight, controlled motions. Then he moaned. God, that sound—half-pained, half-pleasure—sent lightning straight through me. I was shocked I didn’t lose it right there. “Harder, Captain,” he muttered, panting, grinding his cock against the bed, chasing friction. “Fuck me ha
I kissed Andrew back—deeper, more desperate, like I was trying to taste everything I’d missed. My hands slid beneath his hoodie, pushing it up and over his head, exposing the smooth, toned muscles of his torso, still faintly marked by the bruises and bites I’d left behind. I raked my gaze over him. “Fuck, Andrew,” I murmured, my voice raw. “I missed you.” He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he grabbed the hem of my hoodie and yanked it over my head, his fingers brushing against my chest, lingering over the ridges of my muscles like he was memorizing them. His touch sent a jolt straight through me. “I fucking hate you,” he growled, but his hands betrayed him, roaming my skin like they’d been starving for it. I gave a low hum and caught his bottom lip between my teeth, tugging on it before trailing kisses down to the zipper of his jeans. I dragged it down painfully slow, the metal teeth catching just slightly as I hovered my face near his hardness. Andrew groaned, his hand findin
I walked toward him, slow, like if I moved too fast he’d shatter into pieces right there on the spot.“I want you with me,” I said, my voice steady despite how chaotic my chest felt.Andrew’s face twisted, half in disbelief, half in rage. “How the fuck am I supposed to be with someone I fucking hate?”I didn’t flinch.Instead, I reached out and cradled his face between my palms, careful but firm. His skin was warm beneath my fingers, flushed from emotion. His jaw clenched.“I’ll make it work,” I told him, looking into his eyes. “I’ll give you every reason to change your mind. Every fucking day, I’ll prove it. I’ll take the hate, the anger, the bitterness—I’ll take it all if it means you’re still in my life. Just… don’t cut me out. Not completely.”His lips trembled, his eyes glossy with unshed tears.“That’s not how it works, you lunatic,” he resorted, a broken laugh caught in his throat. “You don’t just show up and decide we’re gonna be something. People don’t work like that. I don’t
The moment I stepped into Andrew’s apartment, I froze.It wasn’t the size—I’d been here before. It wasn’t even the familiar scent of coffee, vanilla, and something burnt that always lingered around him like a second skin.It was the mess.Shit. It looked like a small hurricane had torn through the place.Clothes strewn across the couch, a chair overturned in the corner, books stacked in a haphazard pile on the floor like they’d been thrown there. A half-finished bowl of ramen sat forgotten on the table, crusted with dry broth. Empty bottles of sparkling water littered the tiny kitchen counter. One of the cabinet doors was hanging off its hinge.This wasn’t just untidy.This was chaotic.“What?” Andrew’s voice was flat. Almost amused. He was standing by the door, his shoulders slouched in exhaustion, his eyes shadowed.Then he smiled.But it wasn’t the smile I wanted to see. God help me—I pray I never see it on his face ever again. It shattered me. It was the kind of smile people wear