Two

Brielle’s POV

I sighed the second the hot water hit my skin, but it didn’t help the ache low in my belly.

Didn’t cool the heat still pulsing between my thighs.

Didn’t erase the sound of his voice whispering in my ear—telling me to let go.

Desmond.

The man whose face and voice had haunted my dreams for years.

The same man who had stood in my room just this morning, right beside my parents, holding a birthday cake like he hadn’t just made me fall apart in my sleep.

Like he hadn’t just been inside me… in my dreams. Again.

I wasn’t even ashamed anymore. I’d had my first orgasm imagining his face. My fingers buried deep inside me, desperate for something I couldn’t have.

God knows what would happen if he ever touched me for real.

I forced myself to finish showering and stepped out, toweling off quickly. I had to get ready for school, even if every inch of me still felt tender and on edge.

I reached for the vanilla lotion I’d only bought because I overheard Desmond telling my dad once how much he loved the scent.

Yeah, I eavesdrop. Sue me.

I wanted to know everything about him—even though I’d known him practically my whole life. Still felt like there were parts of him I hadn’t seen yet. Parts I wanted to discover.

I stood in front of my wardrobe, staring blankly at the clothes inside.

What do you even wear after dreaming about being touched like that… by a man you’re not supposed to want?

Eventually, I picked out my favorite cream blouse, soft and simple, and tucked it into a pair of high-waisted jeans that hugged my hips in just the right way. My skin still felt tingly. Like I hadn’t fully come back to earth. Maybe this was what turning twenty felt like—raw and wide open.

I added a gold chain, glossed my lips in soft pink, and sprayed perfume right on my neck—exactly where his mouth had been in my dream.

I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

But deep down, I knew I wanted him to see me.

I hated how true that felt.

I skipped breakfast, of course. I’d already wasted enough time in the shower… thinking. Remembering. Wanting.

Paul, our family driver, was already waiting outside in the sleek BMW. I climbed into the back seat just as my phone buzzed.

It was a message from Mirren, bold and loud across the screen.

“Btch, you better not be daydreaming about him again. I’m outside.”

I smiled. She knew me too well.

We pulled up to her place a few minutes later, and as expected, she came flying out the door in a storm of perfume, big hair, and shorts that were basically underwear.

“Briellaaaa!” she squealed, jumping into the car and squeezing beside me. “Birthday queen! Spill it. Did he show up in your dreams again or what?”

“Is that how you say happy birthday?” I asked, trying to sound annoyed.

She gasped like she just remembered.

“Oh sh*t—Happy birthday, babes.” She kissed my cheek, grinning. “I meant to be the first but Rita wore me out last night.”

I rolled my eyes. I did not want to know what she and her girlfriend had been up to.

“Anyway,” she continued, “I have a surprise for you later.”

I raised an eyebrow. “If it’s another vibrator, I swear to God…”

She snorted. “Relax. That was one time. And you liked it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. But this is different, I swear.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait. You had the dream again, didn’t you?”

I looked out the window. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Which means yes.” She leaned in closer. “Oh my God. Wait—did anything happen? In real life?”

I stayed quiet.

Her eyes widened. “No. Don’t play with me. He showed up?”

I groaned and covered my face with my hands. “He brought a cake. With my parents. It was… awkward. Like, painfully awkward.”

“Girl,” she whispered, clutching my arm like this was some life-or-death moment. “The universe is obsessed with your story. This is forbidden romance 101.”

“Mirren. He’s my dad’s best friend.”

“And you’re not a little girl anymore,” she said simply.

Those words hit me like a slap.

I wasn’t.

That’s what scared me the most.

Campus was already buzzing when we arrived—students rushing around with coffee cups, headphones in, backpacks flapping.

Paul parked near the English Lit building. I got out, pulling my bag over one shoulder as Mirren hooked her arm through mine.

“You look hot, by the way,” she said casually. “Like, effortlessly hot.”

“Not helping,” I muttered.

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to help.”

We were halfway across the courtyard when I heard someone call my name.

“Brielle?”

I froze.

Daxton.

The boy who’d once had my whole heart… and broke it without even noticing.

The boy who made promises with soft words and left me empty.

“Hey,” he said, walking up with that same boyish grin that used to undo me. “Wow. You look… amazing.”

Mirren crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. I could almost feel her ready to pounce.

“Hi, Daxton,” I said, calm and cold.

He looked me over, his gaze pausing in places that made my skin crawl. “Happy birthday. I didn’t know you were back.”

“I never left.”

He scratched his head, awkward. “Right. I meant… well, I’ve been thinking about you.”

Of course he had.

They always do—after.

After he’d begged for months. After I gave him my virginity.

After he lasted two strokes.

After he dumped me via text the next morning.

“Maybe we could catch up sometime?” he asked. “Grab coffee? Talk?”

Mirren stepped forward like a damn bodyguard. “She’s got better things to do than dig through last year’s garbage. And by garbage, I mean you.”

I shot her a look, but she just smiled like sunshine.

Daxton hesitated, then looked at me. “Think about it?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

He grinned like he’d won something. “Good seeing you, Brielle.”

When he walked away, Mirren groaned.

“Seriously? You ‘maybe’d’ him?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “I’m just—confused lately.”

She looked at me, quiet for once. “That’s because you’re spending every night dreaming about a man who’s off-limits. Don’t waste time on a boy who doesn’t even know what to do with a woman.”

I didn’t say anything.

Because the truth was… I didn’t even know what I wanted anymore.