Chapter 2

Eunice

I lost all interest in the mountain of food I'd stockpiled like I was prepping for the end of the world. The plate went cold on my desk while my brain looped that moment on the stairs like a broken record.

His smile.

That low, easy voice.

The way his eyes held mine a beat too long.

Was he... flirting?

No. Fucking impossible.

For nearly five years I'd been nothing to him, or so I'd drilled into my own head. Denver always treated me like Paulo's annoying little sister: quick grins, harmless teasing, the occasional head-ruffle. Safe. Brotherly. Completely off-limits.

But what if he'd seen through me?

What if he somehow knew I'd been stupidly, painfully in love with him since I was a kid?

Crush was too small a word. This was a full-blown, years, long obsession. It started the very first day he showed up at our house for a group project with Paulo. One look at him leaning against the doorframe, laughing at something my brother said, and I was gone. Utterly wrecked.

I'd hide behind corners. Hover at the top of the stairs. Steal glances whenever I thought he wasn't looking. I'd count down the days until he might come over again, heart slamming against my ribs the second the doorbell rang.

My old diaries were proof of how pathetic I was,pages filled with his name in bubble letters, surrounded by lopsided hearts and mortifying details: the color of his shirt that day, how his laugh made my stomach flip, the way he smelled when he walked past me in the hallway.

I only tried to kill it when I got to college and the rumors started rolling in.

Denver the heartbreaker.

Denver the guy who could charm a girl out of her clothes in one night and ghost her by morning.

Denver the walking red flag with a smile that made girls stupid anyway.

He was still sweet to me, still warm, still the same Denver around Paulo and the family. But with other girls? He didn't commit. He didn't even pretend to.

So I buried it. Deep.

And yet here I was, heart pounding like a drum because he looked at me too long and asked me, twice, to come downstairs.

I flopped onto my bed, pressed a palm to my racing chest like I could physically force it to calm down.

Get it together, Eunice.

He was just being nice. Or worse, teasing me because he knew it'd make me blush.

I'd almost convinced myself to drop it when my phone buzzed.

Beatrice: "Hey cuz, you sure you're skipping?"

Me: "Yeah, I'm good."

Beatrice: "Too bad. Denver's the one who suggested we all go to his place for the pool. We're heading over now."

My thumbs froze mid-reply.

Wait.

They were all going to Denver's house. To swim. With him.

And I was going to sit here like a fucking idiot while my cousins giggled and flirted and pressed up against him in the water?

Hell no.

I shot off the bed, grabbed my swimsuit and a bag, and yanked my door open, just in time to nearly collide with Paulo. Towel over his shoulder, keys in hand.

"Paulo, wait, are you guys leaving already?"

"Yeah, Denver's place. Pool's open. You coming or what?"

"How many people?"

"Just Beatrice and the girls, couple college friends. Decide fast, we're rolling."

I glanced down the stairs. My cousins were already bouncing by the door, bags slung over shoulders, laughing.

"Paolo, let's go! Denver's waiting!" one of them yelled.

Paulo checked his phone, then raised a brow at me. "Clock's ticking, Eunice. You in or you getting left?"

I sucked in a breath.

"I'm coming."

Denver's eyes lit up the second he saw me step outside with the group.

"Wow," he said, voice low and warm, that slow grin spreading across his face. "Glad you changed your mind."

My whole body locked. I gripped the strap of my bag so hard my knuckles went white, like it was theonly thing keeping me from sprinting back inside.

"Yeah... didn't want to miss it," I mumbled. Smooth. Real smooth.

Paulo, already on his bike with two cousins squeezed behind him, shouted over the engines, "Denver, ride with Eunice. I've got these clowns."

Denver's brows shot up, amusement flashing in his eyes. "Since when do you ride?"

Heat flooded my cheeks. "Last month. Paulo gave me his old scooter. He taught me."

He stepped closer, gaze sliding over the scooter, then back to me, slow, deliberate. "You sure you can handle me on the back? I'm not exactly small."

The way he said it, deep, teasing, sent a jolt straight between my thighs.

"Y-yeah. I got it."

"Hey you two, move your asses!" Paulo revved impatiently.

Denver laughed, low and rough. Then, without warning, he swung on behind me, effortless, like he owned the damn thing.

The scooter dipped under his weight. His hands settled on my bare arms, guiding them to the grips. Firm. Warm. Electric.

His chest pressed flush against my back—hard, hot muscle against my thin shirt. His thighs caged mine, thick and solid. Every inch of space between us disappeared.

His scent slammed into me—clean skin, faint cologne, something dark and addictive. Meanwhile I probably smelled like bed and nerves. Perfect.

I sat frozen, gripping the handlebars like my life depended on it.

"You good?" he murmured, lips brushing the shell of my ear. His breath sent a shiver racing down my spine, straight to my core.

"Mmm-hmm," I managed, voice embarrassingly high.

His arms slid forward, slow and deliberate, until they circled my waist—loose enough to be polite, tight enough that I felt every finger splayed across my stomach.

"This okay?" he asked, voice dropping lower, lips grazing my neck. "Or you want me to hold on tighter?"

My brain short-circuited. Heat pooled low and fast.

"It's... fine," I choked out, even though nothing about this was fine. I was already soaked, and not from the pool yet.

I twisted the throttle too hard; the scooter lurched. Denver's arms snapped tighter, yanking me back against him, his grip firm and possessive.

"Sorry," I gasped.

His chuckle vibrated through his chest into mine, dark and filthy. "Easy, baby. I trust you."

Baby.

My pulse thundered louder than the engine.

Somehow I got us moving, following Paulo. But the entire ride, I was lost in him.

Every bump, his fingers flexing against my stomach.

Every turn, his body moving with mine, hips rolling in sync.

Every shift, his chin brushing my shoulder, breath hot on my skin.

When he spoke, quiet directions, random comments, his voice rumbled straight through me, deep and rough.

I was hyper, aware of every second. Every accidental press of his hips against my ass. Every time his thumbs grazed bare skin where my shirt rode up.

By the time his house came into view, I was trembling, thighs clenched, panties drenched, heart hammering so hard I was sure he could feel it against his arms.