Introduction
What happens when two rivals are forced together in summer school—and can’t keep their hands off each other?
Lexi Monroe and Ethan Carter have been academic enemies since day one—fast mouths, fast grades, and enough tension to burn the classroom down. But when detention shoves them into the same room, their rivalry turns physical. And when things get dirty, they don’t stop. What starts as hate turns into the hottest summer of their lives.
Summer Heat is an unfiltered, high-heat, emotionally loaded erotic romance with just enough heartache to make it hurt—and just enough love to make it matter. From desks to pool parties, dorm beds to library tables, this is the story of two people who can’t stop wanting each other… even when the summer ends.
Chapter One – Enemies, Detention, and Dirty Looks
When Enemies Walk In Dressed for Trouble
Summer school was supposed to be boring. Beige walls, sleepy lectures, and students half-awake in their shorts and sneakers. But when Lexi Monroe stepped into Room 107, it felt like someone had dropped a match into dry kindling.
She didn’t just walk—she sauntered, hips rolling like she owned the air around her. At eighteen, Lexi was the kind of girl who broke rules just by existing. Her sun-bronzed skin practically shimmered in the morning light, barely hidden beneath cutoff shorts and a clingy red tank that left no room for imagination—and no room for a bra. Her hazel eyes, framed in dark lashes, scanned the room like she was already bored by it. But when she spotted him, a smirk tugged at her lips like a loaded trigger.
Ethan Carter was slouched back in the far-left desk, arms crossed over a fitted gray tee that clung to his chest in all the right ways. At eighteen, Ethan looked like the guy moms warned their daughters about—clean-cut at a glance, but sharp beneath the surface. He had strong, steady features: a square jaw, broad shoulders, and short, sandy-brown hair he never bothered to style. He didn’t need to. His confidence did the talking. His blue eyes tracked Lexi’s every move, but his expression didn’t change.
They’d hated each other for years. Top students, neck-and-neck in everything from grades to class debates. Every shared room turned into a battlefield. Every hallway encounter sparked some kind of verbal scuffle. But that rivalry had always buzzed with something just beneath the surface—something hotter. Something neither of them wanted to name.
And now? Now they were stuck in Lit together. Same room. Same row. Same tension.
Words Like Gasoline, Looks Like Fire
Lexi dropped her bag beside him, brushing his arm as she slid into the seat like it was choreographed.
“You’re still trying that brooding look, huh?” she said, tone syrupy-sweet. “You must be exhausting at parties.”
Ethan arched a brow, letting his eyes drift—lingering just long enough on the curve of her chest to make her pulse throb.
“And you’re still allergic to shirts that cover anything,” he replied. “You trying to get extra credit or just attention?”
She leaned in, close enough that her perfume curled through his brain like smoke.
“I get what I want, Carter. I don’t need to beg for it.”
Their eyes locked. Her smirk deepened. His jaw flexed. And just like that, the heat had a body.
Tension Thick Enough to Choke On
Mrs. Penley, their summer Lit teacher, droned on about course outlines, expectations, and attendance policy. None of it registered. Not for Lexi Monroe, who had crossed her legs slow enough for Ethan Carter to notice. Not for Ethan, whose knuckles were tight around his pen, pretending not to watch her every shift in the chair beside him.
She was deliberately leaning back, arms over her head in a stretch that pulled her tank tight across her chest. She knew it. She wanted him to see.
And he did.
“I thought this was English, not porn studies,” Ethan muttered under his breath, eyes locked on the whiteboard, jaw clenched hard.
Lexi smirked without turning her head. “Aw, poor baby. Is the big bad valedictorian distracted?”
“You wish.”
“I know,” she whispered, voice a breathy tease. “I saw the way you looked at me. Same way you did that night at the lake house.”
That night. The party. The almost-kiss. The way he’d backed her against the fridge, hand on her hip, breath hot against her neck—before they both ruined it with another insult.
Ethan glanced sideways. His voice was low, tight, too controlled. “You’re not that hard to look at, Monroe. But don’t confuse ‘interested’ with ‘bored.’”
Lexi turned fully toward him, one leg sliding over the other with a sensual, deliberate shift. “Oh, I’m very interested,” she said, just loud enough that it could’ve been overheard—or maybe that was the point.
Their thighs touched now. Bare skin to bare skin. Neither of them moved.
Mrs. Penley called for pairs to start their discussion assignment: a character analysis from the opening chapter of Wuthering Heights. The room stirred into motion.
Lexi didn’t look away from Ethan.
“So,” she said, tongue grazing her lower lip. “Which one of us is Heathcliff?”
He let out a short, low laugh. “Definitely me. You’ve got toxic written all over you, but I’m the one with anger issues.”
She leaned closer, her breath ghosting across his ear. “Let’s see how angry you get when you find out I’m on top of the pairing list.”
Their names were already up on the screen.
Partnered: Ethan Carter & Lexi Monroe
Of course they were.
Ethan closed his eyes for one sharp second, then looked at her. “This is going to be a long summer.”
Lexi grinned, slow and wicked. “Only if you’re lucky.”
Rivals, Partners, and Paper Cuts
The classroom buzzed with conversation and rustling papers. Groups formed quickly, awkward silences filling the space between barely-dressed students pretending to care about Brontë.
Lexi kicked off her sandals under the desk and curled one leg up into the chair, eyes already locked on Ethan like he was her next move—not her partner.
“I hope you’re not expecting me to do all the work just because you peaked in AP Lit,” she said, her tone playful but edged with challenge.
Ethan didn’t rise to it—not yet. Instead, he opened the textbook with casual control, flipping through pages like he was trying not to look at her thighs. He failed.
“I’ll do my half. Try not to get distracted writing poetry about yourself.”
Lexi let out a low laugh. “You really think I need poetry to make someone obsessed with me?”
He met her gaze then—really met it—and something shifted. For a moment, the usual edge in his voice softened into something hotter. He didn’t blink.
“No,” he said. “You’re more of a hands-on learner.”
Lexi blinked, caught off guard, but her grin sharpened right back. “Finally. A compliment. Was that so hard?”
He leaned in, his arm brushing hers, the scent of clean skin and faint cologne making her stomach flutter in a way she immediately hated.
“It’s always hard around you,” he said, voice low enough to stay just between them.
Lexi bit her bottom lip to smother the involuntary smile threatening to expose her cool front. Her thighs squeezed together under the desk—subtle, but not unnoticeable.
Mrs. Penley passed behind them just then, clipboard in hand. “Partners, don’t just flirt. Analyze. Your responses are due Friday.”
Lexi straightened up and smiled sweetly. “Don’t worry, Mrs. P—we’re deeply into Heathcliff.”
Ethan choked on a laugh.
When the bell finally rang, the heat between them hadn’t cooled. If anything, it had thickened—like something sticky and electric clinging to the skin. Lexi stood, slowly, stretching again in that deliberately suggestive way that said watch me and pretend you’re not dying to touch.
“You walking out, or just staring at my ass until your next class?” she asked, casually tossing her hair over one shoulder.
Ethan stood too, his body a step closer than it needed to be.
“Depends. You offering a better view outside?”
She brushed past him with a smirk, hips swaying just enough to make the invitation sound real.
“Come find out, Carter.”
And just like that, summer school wasn’t boring anymore.
Hall Passes and Hard Looks
The hallway outside Room 107 smelled like sweat, overripe cologne, and air conditioning that never worked right—but Lexi barely noticed. She moved with purpose, backpack slung over one shoulder, her phone in one hand, and a wicked little grin dancing on her lips.
Ethan was exactly three steps behind her. Close enough to feel his stare burning the back of her legs. She knew the rhythm by now—he followed when he was irritated. Or interested. Or both.
At the end of the hall, she turned sharply into an alcove near the vending machines and spun to face him.
“You gonna follow me around all summer, or is this just the warm-up act?” she asked, voice light but loaded.
Ethan didn’t flinch. He stopped just short of bumping into her, hands still in the pockets of his jeans, muscles tight under that faded T-shirt.
“You stopped walking,” he said.
“You could’ve passed me.”
“I didn’t want to.”
Lexi’s pulse skipped at the directness of it. For all his sarcasm, Ethan didn’t play coy. Not when it counted. She took a step closer, closing the space between them. Just enough.
“So now what?” she said, voice a shade lower. “You corner me near the Coke machine and pretend you’re not thinking about my legs around your waist?”
He didn’t answer right away. His gaze dropped—slow and deliberate—to her bare thighs, then back up, his eyes dark and unreadable.
“Not pretending.”
The air snapped between them. Her body buzzed, suddenly too aware of how close they were, how much heat passed between them without a single touch.
She tilted her head, lips parting. “You gonna do something about it, Carter? Or are you just gonna talk like you’re dangerous?”
His jaw twitched. One step closer and his chest was nearly brushing hers.
“You wouldn’t last five minutes,” he said, low and rough.
Lexi’s breath hitched—and that was all the reaction he needed. She hated that he’d seen it. Hated more that it was true.
“Try me,” she whispered.
The loud clunk of the vending machine starting up shattered the moment. Someone else had wandered into the alcove. A senior in flip-flops, totally oblivious, fishing for a Mountain Dew.
Ethan stepped back, slow and measured, eyes never leaving hers. “See you in Lit, Monroe.”
Lexi watched him walk away, chest rising and falling too fast.
She didn’t say it out loud, but it pulsed in her chest with every beat of her racing heart:
What the hell just happened?
Lit Class Gets Too Hot to Handle
The next day, the classroom felt smaller. Or maybe it was just the way Lexi Monroe kept crossing and uncrossing her legs under the table like a challenge she wasn’t even pretending to hide.
Ethan Carter showed up two minutes before the bell, tossed his bag onto the desk, and didn’t say a word. Not at first.
But that silence wasn’t empty. It crackled. Every stolen glance, every not-so-subtle brush of knees under the desk—every second of not touching had its own tension. Like they were both playing chicken with desire, waiting to see who broke first.
And Lexi? She liked that game.
She leaned in close, her voice soft and venom-sweet. “You look tired. Dreaming about me all night?”
Ethan didn’t look away from his notebook. “No. I usually sleep fine after jerking off.”
Lexi froze.
He glanced sideways at her, smirking. “Why? You did too?”
She felt her face flush, but not from embarrassment. From the vivid memory of the ache between her legs the night before. From the way her fingers had moved slower than usual, like she wanted to stretch out the fantasy she refused to admit was him.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, voice a little too breathless.
“Too late.”
Mrs. Penley’s voice cut through the storm between them. “Lexi, if you’re done flirting, perhaps you’d like to read the next passage aloud?”
Lexi smiled sweetly. “It’s not flirting if he’s not cute.”
“Oh, for god’s sake,” Penley snapped. “That’s it—after class. You and Ethan. Stay. I’ve had enough of your soap opera.”
Ethan raised a brow. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“Exactly. You two do more damage with silence than some couples do with sex.”
The bell rang, but neither of them moved.
Lexi glanced over at Ethan, and he was already looking at her.
Neither of them smiled.
But something unspoken passed between them—hot and reckless.
She stood first, slow and unhurried, then looked over her shoulder with a single word that wasn’t a threat or a dare.
“Detention.”
Ethan stood a second later, grabbing his bag and tossing it on the desk again, like he was already settling in for round one.
“Let’s make it count.”
Lexi’s Bedroom – “Don’t Touch, Can’t Stop”
Lexi Monroe lay sprawled across her bed in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and lace panties, the late afternoon light sliding across her thighs like fingers that didn’t belong to her.
Her bedroom smelled like summer sweat, coconut lotion, and impulse.
Her phone buzzed for the fourth time—group chat bullshit. She ignored it. Nothing mattered right now except the dull, low ache between her legs and the smug, maddening echo of Ethan Carter’s voice in her head.
“I usually sleep fine after jerking off.”
Cocky bastard.
She pressed her head back against the pillow, trying to will the memory away—but it replayed on a loop. His voice. That smirk. The way his eyes had looked at her like they’d already stripped her naked and dared her to care.
She should’ve hated it.
She didn’t.
Her hand slid down, slow and familiar, fingertips tracing her stomach, slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, brushing the edge of her panties like a tease she didn’t want to admit she needed.
She closed her eyes.
And she saw him.
Ethan, mouth at her neck, one hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. That look in his eyes—controlled, restrained, hungry. The fantasy wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was rough. Heated. Filthy. His voice in her ear, whispering things he hadn’t said yet—but would. The feel of his hand pinning hers above her head. The weight of him between her thighs.
Her breath hitched as her fingers moved lower, slipping under the lace, finally touching where she was already wet for him. Not a little. Soaked.
“Fuck,” she breathed, hips rolling up into her own touch.
It wasn’t romantic. It was raw. Her fingers worked with the rhythm of his name in her mouth, even if she refused to say it out loud. Each flick, each circle—faster, harder—until she was gasping, thighs trembling, eyes screwed shut.
It crashed over her fast and hard. A clenched, silent orgasm that arched her back and stole her breath.
And when it passed?
She laid there, flushed and still throbbing, the ceiling fan spinning overhead like it could cool down what was already coming.
Because she knew what was next.
Tomorrow wasn’t just detention.
It was a reckoning.
Chapter Two – Secret Tension and First Touch
Empty Classroom. Closed Door. No Excuses.
The school after hours was too quiet. Echoes of footsteps bounced off the cinderblock walls, and the fluorescent lights overhead buzzed like they were just as anxious as Ethan Carter was trying not to look.
He reached Room 107 and stopped in the doorway.
It was empty.
Not for long.
He stepped inside and dropped his backpack on the desk with a thud, running a hand through his hair. His jaw was tight, his shirt stuck slightly to the small of his back from walking there in the heat, and his brain had been playing back the same scene for hours: Lexi, bending at the waist to grab her pencil during class, shorts riding up, shirt riding higher, and the smug look she gave him when she knew he saw.
Five minutes later, she walked in like she was late on purpose.
Lexi Monroe in detention was somehow more dangerous than Lexi anywhere else. Her black crop top was loose, braless again—of course—and her shorts looked even shorter than they had this morning. Her long legs moved like they had secrets. Her lips were glossed. Her eyes were fire.
She let the door shut behind her without a word.
Click.
Locked.
Not officially. But it sounded final.
Ethan didn’t say anything. Neither did she.
For a moment, all they did was look at each other.
No insults. No jokes. Just heat.
She crossed the room slowly, her gaze fixed on him the way a cat stalks something just before it pounces. She slid into the desk across from his, but instead of sitting like a normal person, she turned the chair backward, straddling it with her arms resting across the top, legs spread just enough to be noticed. On purpose.
He swallowed once. Hard.
“You gonna glare at me all hour, or do you wanna play nice?” she asked, voice low, teasing, full of dangerous promise.
“I don’t think we do nice,” Ethan said, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed. “Never have.”
Lexi smiled. “Good. Nice is boring.”
There was a beat. A long, tense pause that hummed under his skin like electricity before the storm breaks.
“You ever shut up?” he asked.
“Only when someone makes me.”
Ethan stood.
So did Lexi.
The tension between them cracked—no warning, no easing into it. Just snap.
She took one step forward, close enough for the scent of her skin to hit him. Vanilla. Sweat. Want.
Their eyes met.
And neither of them backed down.
Get Closer or Get Out
The silence between them was thick. Charged. A held breath neither of them wanted to exhale.
Lexi Monroe stared up at Ethan Carter, and for once, she didn’t have a smartass comment ready. Her pulse thundered in her throat, but her expression stayed cool—just barely. Her body, though? Not playing it cool. Her thighs clenched, her skin buzzed, and her mouth was suddenly dry in the worst way.
Ethan’s gaze dropped—to her lips, then lower. He didn’t hide it. Didn’t pretend not to look. His jaw was tight, his hands flexing at his sides like he was stopping himself from grabbing her.
She wanted him to stop stopping himself.
Lexi stepped forward until her chest brushed his.
“You gonna keep pretending this isn’t happening?” she asked, voice husky.
Ethan didn’t answer.
Instead, his hand slid around her waist, slow and deliberate, and pulled her flush against him.
She gasped—barely.
He leaned down, his mouth just beside her ear.
“You’ve been begging for this since sophomore year,” he whispered.
“Shut up and kiss me.”
She didn’t wait.
Lexi grabbed his shirt, yanked him down, and their mouths crashed together—rough, messy, all teeth and heat. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was pent-up years of hate-sex fantasies finally given permission to live.
Ethan groaned into her mouth, one hand gripping her hip, the other tangling in her hair as he backed her toward the nearest desk. She climbed onto it without breaking the kiss, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him tight between them.
His hands slid under her top—fingertips skimming bare, flushed skin—and she arched into the touch with a desperate, involuntary moan. Her nails scraped down his back through the cotton of his shirt, and he cursed against her lips.
“This is so fucking dumb,” he muttered.
“Then stop.”
He didn’t.
Their mouths met again, hungrier. Her top slid up. His shirt came off. Their bodies pressed together, slick and hot, lips bruising, breath ragged.
It wasn’t about control anymore. It was about release.
And they were just getting started.
Hands, Mouths, No Regrets
The edge of the desk dug into the backs of Lexi’s thighs, but she didn’t care. Not when Ethan’s mouth was on her neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark, his breath hot and ragged against her skin. His hands were everywhere—spanning her waist, gripping the curve of her ass, sliding up the small of her back like he was memorizing every inch.
“You’re insane,” he murmured against her throat.
“And you’re hard,” she breathed back, grinding into him through denim and friction and months—years—of suppressed heat.
Ethan groaned low in his chest, the sound guttural, like it had been dragged out of him. He reached between them and tugged her crop top over her head, tossing it to the floor. No bra. No hesitation.
His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide as he looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time without anything in the way.
“Fuck, Lexi…”
She smirked, breathless. “What? You didn’t think I’d be this hot under the sarcasm?”
He didn’t answer. Just lowered his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue circling as his hand gripped her other breast with greedy, reverent pressure. Her head fell back, a sharp gasp cutting through the silence of the empty classroom.
“Oh my god—Ethan—”
He switched sides without warning, biting gently, then licking over the sting until she writhed against him. Her thighs clenched around his waist, holding him to her like she never wanted him to move.
His hands slid down, yanking her shorts open with a rough jerk of his fingers, and she hissed when the metal button scraped her skin. He didn’t pull them off yet—just slipped a hand inside, under the lace, and found her soaked and throbbing.
“You’re this wet already?” he asked, voice hoarse.
“Shut up and find out how wet,” she growled, yanking at his belt.
He didn’t need more encouragement.
In seconds, her shorts were halfway down her legs, panties torn to the side, and Ethan was kissing her again, harder, deeper, one finger sliding inside her while his thumb teased her clit. Her moan broke against his lips, and she clutched at his shoulders like he was the only thing keeping her from coming apart.
And maybe he was.
Desk, Sweat, and No Turning Back
Lexi’s hips bucked against Ethan’s hand, her breath breaking into gasps, short and high and needy. The way his fingers curled inside her—deep, deliberate, knowing—had her thighs shaking. Her back arched off the desk, nipples pebbling from the draft of air across her damp, exposed skin. But she didn’t let herself fall too far into it.
Not yet.
With a groan of frustration, she pushed at his chest—hard enough to make him step back.
“What—”
She slid off the desk, lips swollen, breathing ragged, shorts still halfway down her legs. “Take off your pants,” she said, voice sharp and low and full of need.
Ethan blinked. “Bossy all of a sudden?”
“I’m done waiting. Desk. Sit.”
He did.
The wood creaked under his weight as he dropped onto the chair she’d been straddling earlier. Lexi stepped forward, her bare chest rising and falling as she peeled off her shorts fully, then climbed onto him in nothing but that confident, wicked smile and a pair of torn panties clinging to one hipbone.
She reached between them, freeing him from his jeans, and her breath caught the second she felt the length of him—hot, hard, already throbbing against her palm.
“Jesus, Carter…”
Ethan growled low in his throat, hands gripping her hips as she lined him up beneath her.
“Lexi—” His voice broke halfway through her name.
But she didn’t wait.
She sank onto him in one slow, agonizing motion, her head falling forward, both of them gasping into the space between their mouths as her body took him, inch by inch.
The stretch burned, sharp and perfect, and when he bottomed out inside her, Lexi couldn’t stop the filthy moan that ripped from her throat.
“Holy fuck…”
Ethan’s hands tightened, holding her still while his jaw clenched like he was barely holding on. “You feel—god—so good.”
She grinned, eyes glassy with lust. “Told you.”
Then she started to move.
Slow at first—grinding, hips rolling in slow circles that made both of them shudder. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her breath hot on his lips, and he thrust up to meet her rhythm with desperate, hungry control.
Skin slapped. The desk rocked. The old chair creaked beneath them.
It wasn’t tender. It wasn’t romantic.
It was wild. Raw. Real.
Two rivals, fucking like they hated each other—because maybe they still did.
But in that moment, it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was the way Lexi moved—owning it. All that mattered was Ethan’s voice, low and ruined, whispering Lexi, Lexi, Lexi like it was the only word he remembered.
And she wasn’t stopping until they both broke.
Finish What You Started
Lexi rode him harder now, the rhythm reckless—her body slapping against Ethan’s, skin slick with sweat, her moans unfiltered, high and urgent. The desk shook beneath them, wood groaning with every thrust. Papers had long fallen to the floor. Chairs knocked aside. But neither of them noticed. Or cared.
Her hands dug into his shoulders, using him for leverage as she bounced on his cock, each movement deeper, faster, chasing the pulse that was already coiled tight inside her.
Ethan was gripping her hips like a man barely holding back the flood. His teeth clenched, eyes locked on hers like he couldn’t believe this was happening. Like he couldn’t believe how much he needed it.
“Fuck—Lexi, I’m—”
“Don’t you dare stop,” she panted. “I’m—right—fucking—there—”
He grabbed the back of her neck, pulled her mouth to his, and swallowed her cry as her body clamped down around him—tight, pulsing, unstoppable. She shattered against him, thighs trembling, gasping into his kiss like oxygen was something he’d stolen from her and she needed every last drop.
Her orgasm rolled through her, sharp and slow and overwhelming. And the second she clenched around him again, Ethan let go.
He cursed her name—loud, low, desperate—as he spilled inside her, hips jerking up, arms crushing her against him. His release was full-body, breathless, raw.
And then—silence.
Just the sound of their breath. Fast. Tangled. Shaky.
Lexi slumped forward, forehead pressed to Ethan’s shoulder. Her skin was slick with sweat, her legs barely holding her in place around him.
Neither of them spoke.
Because words didn’t matter right now.
Ethan’s hands slid slowly down her back, gentler now, resting at the base of her spine like he was anchoring himself to the moment. Or maybe to her.
Lexi finally pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.
And there it was.
The shift.
The unspoken truth in the way he looked at her.
Not just want. Not just victory.
Need.
Real.
She smirked, breath still unsteady. “So. Detention.”
Ethan gave a weak, ruined laugh. “Might be the first time I want a repeat offense.”
She climbed off him slowly, wincing slightly as her legs adjusted back to earth. She reached for her clothes without shame, without awkwardness.
But the air had changed.
They weren’t enemies anymore.
Not exactly.
They were something else now.
Something far more dangerous.
Chapter Three – Games, Dares, and Losing Control
Morning-After Hangovers (Without the Booze)
Ethan Carter stood in front of his bathroom mirror, toothbrush hanging from the corner of his mouth, and stared at himself like he didn’t recognize the guy looking back.
Last night was still all over him.
The scratch marks on his shoulder. The bruised heat of his lips. The ache in his thighs. He’d barely slept. His body was tired, satisfied—but his mind? A fucking mess.
He spat, rinsed, and leaned in closer to the mirror.
He could still smell her on him.
Vanilla. Sweat. Lexi.
It hadn’t been a hookup.
Not just that.
It felt like crossing a line he hadn’t known he’d been toeing for years.
And the worst part?
He liked it.
Too much.
Meanwhile, across town…
Lexi Monroe sat on the edge of her bed in nothing but a towel and a high-voltage hangover of emotion. She wasn’t a feelings girl. She was a sex girl. A tease. A chaos engine with a great ass and no regrets.
But her stomach wouldn’t stop twisting.
Because she didn’t just fuck Ethan Carter.
She let him see her.
Really see her.
Her head fell into her hands. “Goddammit…”
She wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Not about him. Especially not after spending the last two years turning every class into a battlefield.
But when he touched her last night—when he looked at her—it hadn’t been about hate. It hadn’t even been about winning.
It had been real.
And that scared the hell out of her.
Back at school, the first whispers had already started.
Lexi heard them the second she stepped through the front doors.
“They were in detention together, right?”
“I saw her leave after him—hair all messed up.”
“She didn’t even wear a bra today. Again.”
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t slow down. She just gave the hallway her signature smirk and glided past like she didn’t have Ethan Carter’s fingerprints still branded onto her hips.
But her heart?
That was harder to pretend with.
And when she turned the corner and saw him standing by the lockers—tight-lipped, eyes unreadable—her breath caught, just for a second.
He looked at her.
She looked at him.
No words.
Not yet.
But something had changed.
And the next move?
It was hers.
The Coldest Hello
Lexi walked up to him like nothing hurt.
Not her pride. Not her confusion. Not the fact that her legs still ached faintly from straddling him on a desk just fifteen hours ago.
“Hey,” she said, casual. Controlled. Too calm for someone who had been moaning his name hard enough to echo off classroom walls.
Ethan didn’t say anything at first. He looked at her.
Really looked.
Lexi in denim cutoffs and a white tank that barely qualified as legal. Hair up. Skin glowing. Mouth pink and glossed and smirking like she hadn’t lost a second of sleep.
But Ethan’s gaze didn’t linger like it had before.
It wasn’t cold. Not exactly.
But it was… guarded.
He gave her a slow nod. “Hey.”
Just that.
No smile. No smirk. No I can still taste you on my tongue.
Lexi’s confidence wobbled for half a heartbeat.
She blinked. “So… we pretending it didn’t happen, or…?”
He looked around. Hallway. Eavesdroppers. Nosy classmates pretending to dig through lockers.
Then back at her.
His voice was low. Careful. “You really want to talk about this here?”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “No. I guess not.”
“Good.”
He turned to walk away.
She let him take two steps.
“Ethan.”
He paused.
Her voice was sharper now. Not teasing. Not soft.
“What the hell are we doing?”
He didn’t turn. Just said, “I don’t know,” and kept walking.
Lexi stood there, breath caught in her throat, the last word echoing in her ears like an accusation she hadn’t earned.
And that’s when she realized it.
She wanted more.
And he didn’t.
Or maybe he did… but not enough to admit it out loud.
Yet.
Lexi’s Not Done Yet
Lexi dropped into her seat in Room 107 like it owed her an apology.
The classroom was buzzing—half-interested students, a teacher too checked-out to care, the low murmur of group chatter. But all she could hear was the silence between her and Ethan, who had taken the seat beside her again like nothing had happened.
Like he hadn’t been inside her.
Like he hadn’t whispered her name like it meant something.
She didn’t look at him at first. She couldn’t. Not without punching something. Or kissing him again. And right now, both options felt dangerously close together.
But he was quiet.
Too quiet.
No quip. No challenge. No smug glance like he knew what her moans sounded like.
And that pissed her off more than if he’d smirked.
She turned toward him. Slowly.
“You gonna ignore me all class, or just pretend I don’t exist until finals?”
Ethan didn’t look up from his notebook. “Trying to focus.”
“Bullshit.”
He sighed. “Lexi…”
“No,” she snapped, leaning closer, voice low but sharp. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to fuck me like you meant it and then act like it was just a mistake.”
He looked at her then.
Finally.
His expression cracked—just for a second.
“You think I regret it?” he asked, voice like gravel and tension. “You think that’s what this is?”
“I think you’re scared,” she said, calm now, deadly soft. “I think you felt something and you’re too chickenshit to admit it.”
Their eyes locked.
He didn’t deny it.
Didn’t confirm it either.
Which was almost worse.
Lexi leaned back in her seat, biting her lip hard enough to leave a mark. Her pulse was hammering, but she made herself smile anyway.
“Fine. You don’t wanna talk? We won’t. But don’t act like it didn’t happen. And don’t think for a second I’m gonna let you off easy.”
His jaw twitched.
But he said nothing.
And that silence?
It wasn’t avoidance anymore.
It was fear.
And Lexi? She could smell fear a mile away.
She wasn’t done.
Not even close.
A Dare She Doesn’t Walk Away From
Lexi didn’t wait for permission.
Didn’t wait for him to come to her.
If Ethan was going to hide behind silent looks and clenched jaws, then fine—she’d remind him, and everyone else, just how easy it was to get under his skin.
Literally.
Mrs. Penley had assigned reading time. Books open. Heads down. Everyone pretending to care about The Crucible while phones lit up in laps and whispering filled the air.
Lexi shifted her chair just enough so her thigh brushed against his.
He didn’t move.
So she let it linger.
Then pressed a little harder.
Still nothing.
Fine.
She leaned over her desk—perfectly casual—and let her hand drop low, just beneath the table where no one could see. Her fingers grazed Ethan’s knee. A light touch. Then higher. His thigh. Slow. Casual.
Calculated.
He flinched.
Good.
Her fingers danced along the inseam of his jeans, not enough to be obvious—just enough to remind. His breath hitched. She felt it. Saw the pulse jump in his neck.
She leaned in, lips close to his ear.
“You think I’m playing games, Carter?”
His head turned. Their eyes met—fast, hot, dangerous.
“Stop,” he hissed. “Not here.”
She smirked. “Afraid someone will see how much you like it?”
“You’re insane.”
“You’re hard.”
She pulled her hand back like it was nothing and flipped a page in her book.
But she knew what she’d done.
She’d touched the fuse. Lit it. Walked away.
Now he was sitting there, rock hard under the desk, jaw locked, trying to read about Puritans while all the blood in his body rushed straight between his legs.
Lexi didn’t look at him again.
She didn’t have to.
The damage was done.
And class wasn’t even halfway over.
If You Want Me, Say It
The bell rang like a mercy kill.
Chairs scraped. Backpacks slung. Voices rose.
Lexi didn’t rush. She stood slow, stretched a little just to make sure he watched, and walked out of the classroom without a word.
Ethan followed.
He didn’t mean to. Not at first. But when he saw her turning down the side hallway, toward the stairwell no one used during fourth period, he veered off behind her like he’d been pulled on a leash.
She heard his steps. Didn’t look back.
At least not until the stairwell door clicked shut behind them.
Then she turned.
“What?” she said, arms folded. “Here to give me another lecture about boundaries you can’t keep?”
Ethan looked at her, breathing hard.
“You can’t do that,” he said, voice tight. “Touch me like that. In class. In front of everyone.”
“No one saw.”
“I felt it.”
She smirked. “That was the point.”
His jaw clenched. “You’re trying to get under my skin.”
“I already am.”
He moved—fast. One step, two—and then his hand was on her waist, backing her up against the cinderblock wall like he didn’t care who walked in anymore.
“You’re messing with me,” he growled, nose inches from hers. “You want control. You want to win.”
Lexi’s pulse pounded. “So stop me.”
He didn’t.
He kissed her instead—hard, bruising, angry.
Her back hit the wall. His hand tangled in her hair. Her mouth opened to his without hesitation.
This wasn’t soft.
This was need. Confession. Fury in disguise.
And when he pulled back, lips red, breathing ragged, eyes wild—he said it.
The words she hadn’t expected.
“I don’t want this to be nothing.”
Lexi stared.
The hallway was spinning.
“What?”
He swallowed. “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen. And I sure as hell don’t want to stop.”
Silence.
Then—
“Say that again,” she whispered, voice shaking.
“I want you,” he said. “More than just sex. More than the games. I don’t know what the hell this is, but I know I’m not walking away.”
She didn’t say anything at first.
She just kissed him.
Not hard. Not teasing.
Real.
Then pulled back, breathless.
“Good,” she said. “Because I’m not done with you either.”
Chapter Four – Locked Doors and Soft Confessions
Say It Loud, or Say Nothing At All
“Say it out loud.”
Lexi wasn’t whispering.
She was standing in the hallway outside Room 204, back against the lockers, arms crossed, a wicked little smile curving her mouth like sin in the shape of lip gloss.
Students passed, laughing, yelling, brushing past without knowing they were witnessing something dangerous.
Ethan stood in front of her, flushed from gym class, still breathing heavy. He’d barely had time to grab his bag when she cornered him in the hall between periods and dropped the verbal grenade.
“I want you to say it,” she said again, louder now.
He narrowed his eyes. “What, exactly?”
“That you want me. That last night wasn’t a mistake. That you’re not trying to run.”
His jaw ticked. “You know I can’t say that here.”
She stepped closer.
He didn’t move.
Now she was close enough that her chest brushed his. Just enough to get under his skin. Just enough to make his self-control crack like cheap glass.
“You kissed me in a stairwell,” she said. “You fucked me on a desk. You whispered in my ear that you didn’t want this to be nothing. But out here? When someone might hear you—suddenly you don’t want to talk?”
“It’s not that simple,” he snapped.
“It is,” she said, fire in her eyes. “It’s yes or no, Carter. You either want me and you say it—here, now, with everyone able to see—or you walk away and keep pretending this is just fun.”
He didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch.
But he didn’t answer.
So she laughed once—bitter, sharp—and started to turn away.
He caught her wrist.
“Lexi.”
She stopped.
“Don’t walk away.”
“Then say it.”
Students brushed past. The warning bell rang.
Still, she waited.
And then—his voice, low but sure:
“I want you.”
She turned, slowly.
His eyes locked on hers.
“I want you in class, and after. In my bed, in yours. I don’t care if people see. I don’t care what they think. I’m done pretending I don’t feel it. I want you.”
The words landed like a punch to the chest.
Lexi stared at him—lips parted, heart thudding.
She stepped into him, grabbed his shirt in both fists, and kissed him hard. In front of everyone. On purpose.
And Ethan?
Kissed her right back.
Let Them Watch
The kiss didn’t fizzle.
It exploded.
Right there, in the hallway.
Lexi’s fingers twisted in Ethan’s shirt, pulling him in like she wanted to devour him in front of every staring student. And Ethan—who’d spent all week trying to keep control—just let go.
His hands slid down to her waist, then lower, gripping her ass through her shorts as her mouth opened to his. She moaned into it, shameless. Loud enough that the group of juniors by the vending machines burst into whispered chaos.
“Holy shit.”
“Is that Carter and Monroe?”
“I thought they hated each other.”
Lexi pulled back just long enough to smirk, breathless, eyes gleaming. “Still think I’m bluffing?”
Ethan’s answer was simple: he grabbed her hand, laced their fingers, and yanked her down the hall.
“Where are we—”
“Bathroom. Now.”
The nearest one was around the corner, a narrow single-occupant with a lock that barely worked—but it was empty.
He shoved the door shut, clicked the lock, and she was already on him again. Her back hit the door, legs wrapping around his hips before he could even think. He pressed her there, breathing hard, lips on her neck.
“You’re insane,” he muttered, voice shredded with want.
“I’m wet,” she whispered back.
That broke him.
He unbuttoned her shorts with a flick, slid his hand down the front and into her panties, and found nothing but heat and slick, desperate need. She gasped when his fingers found her clit, then bit his shoulder through his T-shirt to muffle the sound.
“Jesus, Lexi…”
“You gonna fuck me in here or just finger me into next period?”
He kissed her hard—then turned, flipped her around, and bent her over the tiny sink. Her hands slapped against the porcelain, her ass pushed back toward him like a dare, and she didn’t even bother hiding the grin on her face.
He tugged her shorts down, panties too, and dropped to his knees behind her without a word.
His mouth hit her like fire—tongue flicking, lips sucking, two fingers driving deep—and she moaned so loud she slapped a hand over her own mouth.
Her knees buckled. She shook.
And Ethan didn’t stop.
Make Her Fall Apart
Lexi had never let someone do this.
Not like this.
Not there—on his knees in a public bathroom, hands tight on her hips, mouth between her thighs like she was the only thing he wanted to taste. His tongue moved with a rhythm that had nothing to do with mercy and everything to do with ownership. Slow at first. Deep. Licking her open like he had all the time in the world to ruin her.
And she was coming undone.
Her hands gripped the edge of the sink so hard her knuckles went white. Her thighs trembled. Her eyes rolled back.
“Fuck, Ethan—fuck—don’t stop—”
He didn’t.
His fingers worked in and out of her, curling just right, while his mouth flicked her clit fast, then slow, then fast again. It was torture. It was heaven. It was everything she didn’t think she’d feel in a school bathroom with a boy she used to hate.
A boy who had her shaking now.
Her legs started to give out.
Ethan stood up just in time, one arm wrapping around her waist, keeping her upright as she moaned against the mirror. He kissed her shoulder. Her neck. Bit her ear.
“You gonna come for me again?” he whispered.
She nodded, breathless.
Words weren’t happening.
Just need.
Just fire.
Just him.
He slid back into her from behind with one deep, hard thrust—and her mouth fell open in a soundless scream.
She came instantly.
It ripped through her like lightning, her whole body bucking, stomach clenched, thighs shaking violently as her orgasm slammed into her so hard she thought she might actually pass out.
He held her through it, buried inside her, breathing ragged against her skin.
“Holy fuck,” she gasped, voice shredded. “What the hell are you doing to me?”
Ethan laughed softly in her ear.
“Breaking you,” he said. “One moan at a time.”
What Now, Carter?
Ethan didn’t last long.
Not after watching her fall apart like that—moaning, trembling, soaked and wide open for him.
He drove into her with the kind of hunger that didn’t care about timing, or place, or consequences. His fingers bruised her hips, holding her tight as he thrust deep and steady, his body slamming against hers in wet, perfect rhythm. The sink creaked. The door shuddered. But nothing could drown out the sounds she made beneath him.
“Lexi—fuck—I’m not gonna—”
“Do it,” she panted, pushing back into him, voice shredded. “Come for me. I want you to.”
That was it.
His head dropped to her shoulder, body stiffening as he came hard, hips jerking, voice low and broken as he emptied into her. The sound of it—the pure, raw release—sent another flutter through her already-wrecked body.
He didn’t move for a long second. Just held her.
His breath was hot on her skin. Unsteady. Human.
Then slowly—reluctantly—he pulled out, stepping back.
They didn’t speak.
Just breathing.
Heavy. Uneven.
Lexi braced her palms against the sink, legs shaking, shorts around her ankles, hair a mess. And somehow… she didn’t care. Not in the way she normally would.
Ethan was quiet behind her.
She finally turned.
He was fixing his jeans, shirt twisted, hair damp with sweat. His eyes met hers—and for the first time since they started this thing, there was no smugness there.
Just… vulnerability.
A silent question neither of them wanted to be the first to ask.
Lexi bent, pulled her shorts up, adjusted her tank top, and stepped in close.
He didn’t move.
“You good?” she asked.
Ethan blinked once, then nodded. “Yeah.”
But he didn’t sound sure.
She gave him a look. “We’re not pretending after this.”
He nodded again. “Okay.”
“You sure?”
A pause. Then—
“No. But I’m not running either.”
Lexi’s mouth twitched.
She leaned in, brushed her lips against his—not a kiss, just a whisper of one. A warning. A promise.
“Good.”
She unlocked the door and walked out.
He watched her go.
And for once, Ethan didn’t chase her.
Because he didn’t need to.
She’d be back.
And next time, they both knew—it wasn’t just about lust anymore.
It was something else.
Something dangerous.
Something real.
Chapter Five – Jealousy, Pool Parties, and Mistakes
Bodies in Water, Eyes Everywhere
The party was already in full swing by the time Lexi arrived.
It was one of those summer nights that stuck to your skin—humid, electric, the sky still pink around the edges as dusk bled into darkness. Laughter spilled out of the house. Bass rattled through the walls. And the smell of chlorine and beer made it feel like every high school cliché was crashing down at once.
She stepped through the gate and into the backyard like a storm in cut-off denim and danger. Her bikini top was black, barely-there, with gold chain straps that glinted in the glow of pool lights. Her matching bottoms rode high on her hips, and the sheer wrap tied around her waist did absolutely nothing to hide how much skin she was showing.
Everyone noticed.
But only one pair of eyes made her stomach tighten.
Ethan.
He was near the patio, drink in hand, shirt undone and clinging to his chest like it had been soaked in sweat or beer—or both. His board shorts hung low on his hips, and he looked even better than he had in that bathroom stall. Relaxed. Sun-touched. Dangerous in that effortless way she hated how much she wanted.
His eyes locked on hers the second she entered.
He didn’t smile.
Neither did she.
She walked past him without a word.
The tension between them didn’t crack—it stretched. Long. Tight. Unspoken.
Everyone had heard.
Someone had seen them slip out of the school bathroom the day before—Lexi’s hair a mess, Ethan adjusting his zipper, the air between them practically steaming.
The rumors spread faster than they could breathe.
And now? Now everyone was watching.
Especially the girl sitting on the pool’s edge in a white bikini—Paige Turner, the girl Ethan had hooked up with last summer.
Lexi saw the way Paige looked at him. Saw her fingers brush his arm as she handed him another drink.
Lexi didn’t hesitate.
She walked straight to the pool, untied the wrap from her waist, dropped it without fanfare, and dove in—headfirst, clean and fast. When she surfaced, water dripping down her body in glittering rivulets, she made sure to face Ethan.
He was watching.
Good.
Let him.
Let them all watch.
Jealousy’s a Bitch
Lexi swam slow laps, sleek and controlled, but her heart was punching her ribs.
She wasn’t here for a swim.
She was here for a reaction.
But Ethan wasn’t moving.
Paige was still sitting beside him—close. Too close. And that fake laugh she gave when he said something? Lexi had heard it a hundred times. The high-pitched “You’re so bad” bullshit girls used when they wanted to be touched.
Lexi leaned her elbows on the pool’s edge and looked up.
Ethan glanced her way.
Their eyes met.
Then Paige leaned in, said something near his ear.
And Ethan smiled.
Not big. Not bold.
But enough.
Lexi’s stomach dropped.
She pushed off the wall, flipped her hair back, and swam to the shallow end where the music thumped loudest and the beer cooler was half-submerged in a kiddie pool.
She didn’t hesitate.
Grabbed a drink.
Drained it.
Grabbed another.
She felt the buzz come fast—liquid courage, fizzy defiance.
It didn’t take long for Jake Miller to find her—tall, tan, stoned out of his mind and grinning like he didn’t care whose lines he crossed. He’d flirted with her before. She’d ignored him before.
Not tonight.
Jake offered her a beer. She took it.
He said something about how good she looked wet.
She laughed.
Loud.
Exaggerated.
Made sure Ethan heard it.
Then Jake’s hand found her waist.
Lexi didn’t push it away.
Across the yard, Ethan stood up—fast. Drink forgotten. Eyes sharp.
Lexi saw him coming.
Didn’t move.
Jake’s fingers slid lower.
Lexi smiled at Ethan as he approached, daring him with her eyes.
Do something.
Say something.
But Ethan didn’t speak.
He just stopped three feet away, jaw tight, hands clenched.
“Problem?” Jake asked, oblivious.
Ethan’s voice was low. Controlled.
“Yeah. You should move your hand.”
Jake blinked. “Why?”
Lexi cut in before Ethan could speak.
“No problem,” she said. “We’re just having fun.”
That hit harder than a slap.
Ethan’s eyes darkened. “Really.”
Lexi held his gaze. “Yeah. Really.”
Then she took another drink.
Cold.
Deliberate.
Reckless.
She didn’t know why she was doing it.
But she couldn’t stop.
Say Something, or Lose Her
Ethan turned and walked.
Fast. Silent. Controlled on the outside, boiling on the inside.
Not because of Jake.
Not even because of Lexi laughing at something that wasn’t funny.
It was the look in her eyes.
Defiant.
Empty.
Like none of it mattered.
Like he didn’t.
He pushed through the side gate of the house and walked until the music faded behind him. Gravel crunched under his shoes. The air was thick and hot, but it didn’t stop his pulse from running cold.
She was playing a game.
But he’d started it.
He’d kept her a secret. Pulled away when it got real. Acted like she was a complication instead of the one person who actually made him feel anything this summer.
Now she was done waiting.
And she was letting him see it.
Behind him, the gate creaked open.
Footsteps.
He didn’t turn.
“I didn’t kiss him,” Lexi said.
Still, he didn’t move.
“But I wanted to,” she added, quieter now.
He turned.
She was standing under the porch light, dripping from the pool, beer still in her hand. Her makeup was smudged. Her chest rose and fell like she’d run the whole way.
“I wanted to kiss him just so I didn’t have to think about you,” she said. “Just so I could forget what it felt like when you looked at Paige like that.”
Ethan’s brows furrowed. “I didn’t touch her.”
“You didn’t stop her either.”
Silence.
Lexi stepped closer. “You stood there. You let her flirt with you. You let me see it. So I gave you a taste of your own medicine.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You never mean to, Ethan,” she snapped. “That’s the problem. You don’t say what you want. You don’t fight. You just… let me drift until I’m the one drowning.”
His jaw worked, muscles tight.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he said finally. “You terrify me.”
She blinked.
“I’m not scared of you,” he added, stepping in. “I’m scared of how bad I want you. Of how fast this stopped being just sex. Of how real it got when I wasn’t ready.”
Lexi swallowed hard.
“Then get ready.”
Her voice cracked. She didn’t care.
“Because I’m not playing anymore. And if you can’t handle it—walk away now.”
Ethan didn’t move.
Then—he kissed her.
Fast. Hard. Not out of lust—out of fear. Like if he didn’t do it now, she’d vanish.
Lexi kissed him back.
But this one wasn’t about heat.
It was about everything they hadn’t said until now.
And finally—
they said it.
Without words.
Lexi – Break the Pattern Before It Breaks You
She kissed him like she didn’t trust it.
Not because she didn’t want it—she did, god, she did—but because part of her still expected him to pull away. To do what he always did. Disappear. Go silent. Pretend like none of it mattered.
Because that’s what she’d learned to expect from people: hot one minute, cold the next. Wanting her until they had her. Then acting like she’d never been anything but a distraction.
And Ethan?
He was worse.
Because he meant it.
He kissed her like someone who wasn’t just turned on—he kissed her like someone who needed her. Like her mouth was the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely.
And that terrified her more than anything Jake or Paige could throw her way.
Her fingers were still tangled in the front of his shirt, knuckles white. She didn’t even realize how hard she was holding onto him until he shifted slightly, and she felt her grip tremble.
She wanted to say something. Something real. Something stupid. Something soft.
“Don’t leave.”
But she didn’t.
Not yet.
Instead, she pulled back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against his, their breath mingling in the thick, humid air. Her body was still humming from the pool, the drinks, the stare-off that nearly turned into heartbreak.
But her heart?
It was just… bare.
She whispered, “I don’t know how to do this either.”
His hand cupped her jaw.
“Then we figure it out.”
For a second, she almost cried. Almost.
But she didn’t.
Because that was something old Lexi would’ve done.
The Lexi standing here now?
She wanted to see what happened if she stopped running first.
What Comes After the Fire
They left the party without another word.
No goodbyes. No explanations. Just fingers laced tight and steps in sync as they walked down the dark street barefoot, shoes dangling from their hands, the moon cutting through the heat like silver on skin.
Lexi didn’t ask where they were going.
Ethan didn’t offer.
They just walked.
Quiet.
Not tense. Not awkward.
Peaceful.
Like a storm had finally passed.
They ended up at the old baseball field behind the school—the one with the broken bleachers and floodlights that hadn’t worked since sophomore year. The grass was damp. The silence was soft.
Ethan dropped into the grass first, pulling Lexi with him. She curled beside him, her head on his shoulder, the hum of crickets filling the spaces they didn’t rush to fill.
No kissing.
No groping.
Just being.
And it was almost more intimate than everything they’d done in that bathroom, or on that desk, or behind the stairwell door.
Because this time, neither of them had anything to prove.
“I hated seeing you with him,” Ethan said after a while, voice barely above a breath.
Lexi turned her face against his shoulder. “Good.”
He laughed. Quiet. Honest.
“I didn’t know how to handle it,” he admitted. “Watching you laugh like I wasn’t even there.”
“I was trying to hurt you.”
“You did.”
She swallowed.
“I was scared,” she whispered. “I still am.”
Ethan looked at her. “Of what?”
She hesitated.
Then—truth: “Of needing you.”
The words landed between them. Sharp. Honest. Real.
And Ethan didn’t flinch.
He leaned in, pressed his lips to her forehead, and said the one thing she hadn’t expected from him:
“I need you too.”
They didn’t speak after that.
They just lay there, under the stars, hearts still racing, chests still sore from what almost went wrong.
It wasn’t fixed.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it wasn’t over.
And for the first time since this whole thing started—
they both wanted it to last.
Chapter Six – Sleepless Nights and Almost Love
Daylight Makes Everything Too Clear
The grass clung to Lexi’s skin when she woke.
Dew, cold against her bare legs. Morning light bleeding over the field, painting Ethan in shades of gold and shadow. His arm was still around her waist. His body warm. His breathing slow.
She didn’t move.
Didn’t want to.
The party was hours ago. The shouting, the flirting, the almost-fight—all of it felt like it belonged to another version of her. Some past self that hadn’t laid her head on his chest and listened to his heart calm for the first time since they’d met.
She turned her face toward him.
He was still asleep. Shirt twisted. Hair a wreck. His jaw slack in the way boys never let it fall when they were conscious. Peaceful. Real. And hers in a way that terrified her.
She felt it again—that pinch behind her ribs. That whisper of something she’d refused to name for too long.
Wanting him? Easy.
Needing him? Complicated.
Loving him?
She rolled away before the thought could finish.
Not yet.
No way.
They walked back to town an hour later. Quiet. Simple. Easy.
Ethan stopped at the edge of her block, running a hand through his hair.
“I’ll call you later?”
Lexi nodded. “Sure.”
But as she walked away, her heart was already stuttering in her chest.
Because he’d said “call.”
Not “see you.”
Because she said “sure,” not “come with me.”
Because if either of them said too much—they’d ruin it.
Right?
Later, she lay on her bed in cutoff shorts and nothing else, scrolling through texts she didn’t answer, notifications she didn’t care about. Her phone buzzed again.
Ethan:
You home?
She stared at it.
Typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Lexi:
Yeah. You?
A second later:
Ethan:
Yeah. I keep thinking about your mouth.
And your voice.
And your stupid smartass smirk.
Her lips curled.
She shouldn’t have grinned.
She did anyway.
Lexi:
And what are you doing about it?
Ethan:
Trying not to feel it.
Failing.
She stared at that message longer than she should’ve.
Then locked the phone, tossed it on the bed, and covered her eyes with her arm.
She wasn’t ready for this.
But it was already happening.
And now?
They were past pretending.
The Space Between Skin and Truth
It was just past eleven when she texted him again.
Lexi:
You up?
Ethan:
Obviously.
Lexi:
Come over.
A pause.
Then:
Ethan:
Clothes on or off?
She rolled her eyes and grinned.
Lexi:
Don’t be cute. Just come.
Ten minutes later, he was standing outside her window, tapping lightly like he used to sneak into trouble, not into something that felt like… more.
She opened it wordlessly.
Pulled him in.
And they just stood there for a beat. Neither reaching. Neither pressing.
He looked around her room—walls covered in band posters, an unmade bed, a candle still smoking from earlier, the faint scent of vanilla and something warmer beneath it.
Lexi stepped back and dropped onto the bed, lying flat on her back, hands folded across her stomach.
“You’re not taking your clothes off?” he asked, teasing, but his voice was quieter than usual.
“Nope.”
He kicked off his shoes. “So why am I here?”
She looked at the ceiling. “Because I didn’t want to be alone.”
He swallowed that.
Then laid down beside her.
Not touching.
Just breathing.
The silence settled thick between them.
But this time, it didn’t feel awkward.
It felt honest.
Lexi turned her head and looked at him.
He looked back.
And without a word, she reached across the small space and took his hand.
Fingers laced.
No heat. No push. Just that single, small connection.
His thumb brushed hers.
Soft. Careful. Like he wasn’t sure she’d let him.
She did.
Because tonight wasn’t about lust.
It was about not breaking in the dark.
And having someone there when the silence started getting too loud.
Nothing Happens, Everything Changes
Lexi didn’t sleep much.
She lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling fan spinning above them, one of Ethan’s fingers still hooked around hers like he didn’t want to lose the connection even in sleep.
His breathing had evened out an hour ago. He shifted a few times, restless, murmuring things she couldn’t make out. But he never let go.
Not once.
She turned her head slightly, watching the lines of his face in the low light spilling through the curtains—cheekbones soft in sleep, lips parted, lashes too dark and long for a guy who claimed he wasn’t trying.
He looked nothing like the Ethan she knew.
Not the cocky one. Not the quiet brooder. Not the one who fucked her hard against the classroom desk and walked away with her taste still on his mouth.
He looked… safe.
And that scared her more than anything else.
Because safety meant comfort.
And comfort meant trust.
And trust? That was what shattered you when it broke.
Lexi blinked hard.
She wanted to climb on top of him. Bury herself in his body. Distract herself with skin and teeth and sweat and noise.
But she didn’t.
Because for once, she didn’t want him to see her that way.
Not tonight.
She just wanted to be held.
And somehow… he already knew.
Sometime after 3 a.m., she drifted off.
The dream came slow and soft.
They were at the lake. Her legs in his lap. His hoodie around her shoulders. The sun setting behind his head.
He didn’t touch her in the dream.
He just looked at her.
Stayed.
When she woke—heart racing, skin warm—he was still there.
And he was watching her.
Eyes half-lidded. Quiet.
Still holding her hand.
She didn’t say anything.
Neither did he.
They just stared.
Because something had shifted.
And neither of them was ready to say what it was.
But they both knew.
Almost Saying It
The sunlight came in soft and slow, slipping between the blinds like it didn’t want to wake them too harshly.
Lexi sat up first, hair a mess, one strap of her tank top twisted around her shoulder. She rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palm, trying to make sense of the clock and the warmth in her chest that hadn’t gone away yet.
Ethan was still beside her.
On his back. One hand on his stomach, the other still barely curled toward where hers had been a moment ago. His eyes opened as she moved.
No words yet.
Just that half-smile he didn’t let anyone else see.
She swallowed hard and looked down.
“So,” she said, her voice scratchy from sleep, “we, uh… just slept.”
Ethan yawned. “Weird, right?”
“Very.”
He sat up slowly, brushing his hand through his hair.
They were so close their knees touched. Not by accident.
She looked over at him, and he was already watching her.
“What?” she asked, voice lighter than she felt.
He hesitated.
His mouth opened like he was going to say something—something real. Something she could feel crawling toward her from across the bed.
But then—
He looked away.
And said, “Nothing.”
Her chest squeezed. Just a little.
Not enough to show. But enough to sting.
“Okay,” she said. “Cool.”
But it wasn’t cool.
Not at all.
Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. “I was gonna say…” He stopped.
Lexi turned toward him, waiting.
He looked back at her—eyes sharp, unguarded.
“I don’t hate waking up next to you.”
Lexi blinked.
It wasn’t what she expected.
And it wasn’t everything.
But it was something.
And in her world? That was huge.
She gave him a crooked smile. “Well, lucky you. I don’t snore.”
He laughed, low and real, the sound rolling through the small bedroom like a sigh neither of them knew they’d been holding.
They sat there a moment longer, knees still touching.
Almost saying it.
Not quite.
Not yet.
Something Like Safe
Ethan leaned in like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Not rushed. Not hungry. Just sure.
Lexi didn’t pull away.
She tilted her face toward his, lips parting just before he kissed her—and when he did, it was soft. Careful. The kind of kiss that asked a question without forcing an answer.
Her fingers brushed his jaw. Just once.
When they pulled apart, she looked at him for a second longer than she meant to.
“I don’t usually do this,” she said, voice quiet.
“What? Kiss guys who sleep in your bed and don’t try to screw you in the morning?”
She smiled. “Exactly.”
Ethan’s hand slid down her back. “Yeah. Me neither.”
They sat there like that for another minute. Bare legs tangled in a mess of sheets, the fan above clicking softly as it turned.
Outside, the day had already started.
But neither of them wanted to move yet.
Eventually, Lexi stood and pulled on a hoodie over her tank top. “You hungry?”
Ethan blinked like she’d just offered him the moon.
“Yeah,” he said. “Starving.”
She didn’t make a big deal of it. Just grabbed two bowls, poured cereal, and tossed him a spoon without asking if he wanted anything else.
And he didn’t need anything else.
Because for the first time, he wasn’t wondering when he’d have to leave.
He just… stayed.
And Lexi didn’t push him out.
Didn’t pretend it meant nothing.
They ate in silence, knees bumping under the small table, the air warm with something neither of them could name yet.
But it was there.
Between every look.
Every brush of fingers.
Every smile they didn’t fight.
It wasn’t love.
Not yet.
But it was heading there.
And they both felt it now.
Even if they still couldn’t say the words.
Chapter Seven – Study Sessions and Breaking Points
Too Close, Too Fast, Too Much
Lexi hadn’t planned on dressing like sin today—but she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t on purpose.
The little black skirt. The sheer white blouse with a black lace bra just barely visible underneath. The boots that made her legs look longer and her walk more dangerous.
She told herself it wasn’t about Ethan.
That it was just for her.
But the second she walked into Room 107 and saw him already there—hoodie sleeves pushed up, jaw clenched, tapping a pencil against his notebook like he wanted to stab something—she felt the shift.
He looked up.
Saw her.
Paused.
And that look spread across his face.
Not surprise.
Not shock.
Just that slow, heat-soaked recognition of someone who’s memorized how you taste—and is remembering it in real time.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
Lexi smirked and slid into the seat beside him, legs crossing in a way she knew gave him a view of her thigh all the way up.
“Problem?” she asked, tone honey-slicked.
“You wore that on purpose.”
“I wear clothes, Ethan. Not intentions.”
He didn’t reply.
But his knuckles were white on the desk.
Mrs. Penley swept into the room like she was late for a crisis, heels clicking, scarf flying. “Group project. Start today. Pairs are assigned. No trading.”
She began reading names, and Lexi didn’t even have to hear it. She knew.
Of course.
“…Ethan Carter and Lexi Monroe.”
She laughed softly. “Guess the universe ships us.”
Ethan’s voice was tight. “I don’t think the universe has seen your browser history.”
She leaned in, breath warm against his ear.
“You still thinking about my mouth?”
His knee jerked under the desk.
“You need to stop.”
She didn’t move back.
“Make me.”
He turned toward her slowly.
And whispered: “After class.”
Her thighs clenched.
Hard.
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
Library. Locked Door. No Rules.
They didn’t speak as they walked to the library.
Not because there was nothing to say—but because there was too much.
The tension between them had weight now. Gravity. Like the air was heavy with all the things they hadn’t done yet—but were definitely about to.
The librarian didn’t even look up when Mrs. Penley handed over their assignment slips and told them to use the back study room. Apparently, two straight-A seniors working on a group essay didn’t raise suspicion.
But they both knew what this was.
And the second the door clicked shut behind them, Lexi turned the lock.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Wow. At least pretend we’re here for academic excellence.”
Lexi dropped her bag on the table, leaned back against the edge of it, and let her blouse fall open just slightly—just enough for the lace to peek through. “Define excellence.”
He stared at her for a second too long. His jaw worked. His hands flexed.
“Lexi…”
“I know,” she said, stepping forward. “I know we’re supposed to keep it together. Act like we’re normal.”
She reached for his hand, slid it to her waist.
“I don’t want normal.”
Ethan swallowed hard. “You want me to fuck you in a public library?”
“I want you to remember what it sounds like when I moan your name. And I want you to try to keep me quiet.”
That was it.
He snapped.
His mouth was on hers before she finished the sentence, hands on her hips, spinning her around and lifting her onto the table in one hard move. Her legs opened, pulling him in, her back arching as he kissed her like he’d been dying for it since the second he walked into class.
She tore his hoodie off. He yanked her blouse open. Buttons flew. She didn’t care.
He pressed her down against the table, lips on her collarbone, teeth grazing the lace of her bra.
“Do you know what you do to me?” he growled.
Lexi moaned, pulling him closer. “Show me.”
He did.
His hand slid under her skirt.
No more teasing.
No more pretending.
This was need. Raw and reckless.
And there was no turning back.
Hands, Mouths, and Heat Between Pages
Ethan pushed Lexi back flat against the table, her skirt bunched around her hips, panties already soaked through from nothing but tension.
“God,” he breathed, fingers sliding under the lace, eyes locked on hers. “You’re always like this for me.”
She bit her lip, hard. “Don’t act surprised.”
One finger slipped inside her, slow.
She gasped—sharp, high, head tipping back against a stack of abandoned textbooks. The table was cool beneath her, but his hand was fire, his mouth hotter as he kissed down her stomach, lifting her legs over his shoulders.
She was already shaking.
Already close.
And he hadn’t even used his tongue yet.
But then he did.
And it was over.
His mouth found her clit with practiced precision—circling, sucking, flicking in that maddening rhythm that made her toes curl inside her boots. He moaned into her, low and hungry, and the vibration shot straight through her spine.
“Fuck, Ethan—” she hissed, thighs clamping tight around his head. “Someone’s gonna hear—”
“Then be quiet,” he growled against her, fingers thrusting faster.
She tried. God, she tried. But her body had other plans.
Her hands gripped the edge of the table. Her back arched. Her breath caught in her throat as the orgasm hit her—fast, pulsing, a tidal wave crashing through every nerve.
She came hard, mouth open, one hand over it to muffle the scream she couldn’t stop.
Ethan didn’t pull back.
He stayed there—tasting every second of it, holding her like she was something sacred and dangerous at the same time.
When she finally collapsed, panting, flushed, eyes glassy, he stood slowly, licking his fingers clean.
Lexi watched him with her chest still rising fast.
“You’re an asshole,” she whispered.
He smirked.
“You love it.”
And she didn’t argue.
Because she did.
No One Makes Me Come Like That
Lexi was still trembling when she sat up.
Still flushed. Still slick between her thighs.
But her smirk was back.
And Ethan—standing there, breath shallow, mouth wet with her—looked like he was about to come just from the look she gave him.
She slid off the table and dropped to her knees.
Right there.
On the dusty library floor.
Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. “Lex—”
“Quiet,” she said, already working the button of his jeans. “Or we’re even.”
She tugged him free, fingers wrapping around the thick heat of him, still hard from what he’d just done to her. The tip was flushed, already leaking, and the low curse he let out when her mouth wrapped around him was filthy.
“Shit,” he groaned, his hand flying to the back of her head, gripping tight but not forcing—like he just needed something to hold onto before he fell apart.
Lexi sucked him deep, slow, her tongue teasing the underside, lips slick and tight as she started to build a rhythm.
She loved this part.
The power of it.
The control.
How loud he got when she didn’t let him come too fast.
Her hand pumped what her mouth couldn’t take, spit dripping down her wrist, and when she looked up at him—lips stretched around his cock, hair falling in her eyes—Ethan looked wrecked.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She pulled off with a soft pop, breath hot against him.
“Then die grateful.”
She went back down, faster now, harder, hand working in sync, sucking him until his thighs trembled and he had to bite his own fist to stay quiet.
When he came, he came hard—hips jerking, breath gone, a broken sound escaping his throat like he didn’t care who heard.
Lexi swallowed everything.
Then stood slowly, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and leaned close to his ear.
“Next time,” she whispered, “you’re fucking me over the table.”
Ethan looked like he might pass out.
She tugged her skirt down.
He zipped up.
Neither said anything.
But the room smelled like sex and victory.
And they both knew—
The break point had passed.
And neither of them was backing down.
What Did We Just Do?
The hallway outside the library was too bright.
Lexi blinked against the fluorescent lights as they stepped out, her blouse loosely buttoned, hair finger-combed into place, lips still swollen. She could still taste him in the back of her throat.
Ethan walked beside her, shoulders tense, hoodie back on but crooked, like it didn’t sit right anymore. Like he didn’t sit right anymore.
Neither of them said a word.
They didn’t have to.
The silence was filled with echoes—her name on his tongue, his breath in her mouth, the table creaking beneath her back.
Lexi exhaled.
Hard.
This wasn’t supposed to be like this.
It was supposed to be fun.
Raunchy.
Irresponsible.
Instead, it was starting to feel like something else.
Something worse.
Something better.
She glanced over at Ethan.
He was watching the floor as they walked. Not tense exactly—but not relaxed either. Like he was carrying something heavy he couldn’t put down yet.
At the end of the hallway, she reached for the door.
His hand brushed hers.
Accidental.
But not really.
Not anymore.
She froze.
So did he.
They looked at each other, both still breathing too fast, like the sex hadn’t left their lungs yet.
He didn’t say anything.
Neither did she.
But his fingers curled around hers.
Just for a second.
Just enough to make her heart trip.
Then the door opened.
Light spilled in.
And the world came back.
Voices. Footsteps. Summer. School.
All of it waiting.
Lexi let go of his hand.
Walked out first.
Ethan followed.
But both of them knew:
They’d crossed the point of no return.
And it wasn’t just about fucking anymore.
It was about falling.
Chapter Eight – Apologies, Bedrooms, and Real Heat
The Silence That Hurts More Than a Slap
Lexi didn’t hear from him the next day.
No text.
No emoji.
No stupid one-liner about how good her knees looked on library floors.
She waited.
Told herself she didn’t care.
Checked her phone every six minutes anyway.
By that night, the pit in her stomach was chewing through her spine.
And still—nothing.
She threw her phone across the bed. It bounced. Mocked her. Lit up with a text from someone not him.
She didn’t read it.
Didn’t need to.
Because when Ethan wanted her, he made it clear.
And now?
Now he was gone.
It rained that night.
Of course it did.
Lexi stood at her window in nothing but a long T-shirt and underwear, watching the sky dump buckets over the lawn like the weather knew she needed drama to match her mood.
She hated this.
Not the waiting.
Not even the wanting.
She hated that it hurt.
She hated that she missed him more than she missed control.
And she hated that she knew—knew—he’d show up the second she stopped waiting.
Because that’s what he did.
Ethan Carter always came back when it was almost too late.
And at 10:46 PM…
He did.
Her phone buzzed once.
Ethan:
I’m outside.
She stared at the screen.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t type.
He knocked five minutes later.
Harder than he needed to.
She padded barefoot to the front door, flung it open, and there he was—soaked, hoodie clinging to him, hair plastered to his forehead, like something out of a teen drama that knew exactly what it was doing.
He looked up.
Met her eyes.
Didn’t speak.
Lexi didn’t give him the chance.
She grabbed him by the front of his shirt, yanked him inside—
And kissed him.
Hard.
Soaked Clothes and Slower Hands
Ethan’s hoodie hit the floor first.
Wet. Heavy. Useless now.
Lexi’s hands were under his shirt before she could stop herself, fingers sliding across his rain-slick skin, his chest rising with every breath he didn’t know how to take.
They didn’t speak.
Not yet.
He peeled her shirt off slow. Careful. Not like he wanted to see her naked—like he wanted to earn it.
She let him.
Her breathing stuttered when his hands brushed her hips, thumbs circling just beneath her underwear. Not pulling. Just resting. Steady. Present.
She looked up at him, chest bare, lips parted.
“You left,” she said.
“I know.”
“You didn’t call.”
“I know.”
She pressed her palms to his chest. “That’s not okay.”
“I know.”
And then—softer: “I wanted to.”
Lexi’s voice cracked. “Then why didn’t you?”
Ethan’s hands curled tighter at her hips. “Because I didn’t know what this was. Because it scared the hell out of me.”
She swallowed hard.
“And now?”
He leaned down—forehead to hers, soaked hair dripping between them.
“Now I’m more scared of losing it.”
She kissed him again—this time slower, deeper, her fingers in his wet hair, his hands sliding up her back like he needed her to feel how sorry he was.
When he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around him without hesitation.
He carried her to the bed.
Laid her down like she was breakable.
And when he pulled her underwear off, he did it like he was unwrapping something sacred.
There was no rush.
Just her.
And him.
And the heat building under skin that had never felt quite this exposed—even when they’d been naked before.
Because this wasn’t about getting off.
This was about giving in.
Let Me Touch You Like I Mean It
Lexi lay back against the pillows, breath shallow, legs already parted for him—but this time, not from urgency.
From trust.
From surrender.
Ethan hovered over her, shirt gone, jeans unzipped but still clinging to his hips. His hands ghosted up her thighs, not taking, just feeling. Like he was cataloging every inch, every scar, every tremble.
She didn’t look away.
Neither did he.
“You can touch me,” she whispered, “but not like I’m a mistake.”
Ethan’s jaw tensed, eyes dark.
“I don’t think I ever have.”
And then he kissed her.
Really kissed her.
Not like a boy who wanted to get off. Like a man who wanted her to remember this.
His mouth moved down her neck, to her collarbone, over the curve of her breast. He kissed the space between her ribs. The hollow of her hip. The inside of her thigh.
By the time his tongue touched her—slow, deep, patient—she was already shaking.
She gripped the sheets, gasped when he sucked her clit between his lips and groaned like he was the one losing control.
“Ethan—” her voice broke, too breathless to finish.
He didn’t stop.
He took his time.
Every flick of his tongue was a promise: I’m not leaving. I’m not rushing. I’m not pretending this is anything but everything.
When she came, it was quiet.
No screaming.
No frenzy.
Just a slow, uncoiling wave that left her eyes glassy and her chest rising like she was learning how to breathe again.
He kissed her inner thigh afterward.
Then crawled up her body, dragging his jeans off on the way.
He lined himself up, hard and heavy against her slick heat—but didn’t thrust.
He looked down at her, lips parted, sweat at his temple.
“Are you sure?” he whispered.
Lexi stared up at him.
And for the first time, she didn’t have to fake it.
“I’ve never been more sure.”
He pushed in.
Slow.
So slow.
And they both gasped like it was the first time.
Because it was.
This was something new.
And they both knew it.
Don’t Look Away
Ethan sank into her inch by inch, every muscle in his body coiled with restraint.
Lexi arched under him, but she didn’t shut her eyes like she usually did. She didn’t hide.
She watched him.
Let him watch her.
And that changed everything.
Her hands slid up his arms, slow, grounding. “Don’t look away,” she whispered.
“I wasn’t planning to,” he said, voice already rough with how tight she was, how warm, how much this meant now.
Their hips found a rhythm—slow, deep, devastating. The kind of pace that made her gasp every time he bottomed out inside her. The kind that felt like connection, not just friction.
She gripped his shoulders. “Harder.”
He did—but not by much.
Not punishing. Not claiming.
Just more.
Every thrust hit deep. Steady. Her breath caught every time, fingers digging into his back, her legs locking tighter around his waist with every stroke.
He kissed her like he was still apologizing. Touched her like she’d break if he let go.
And Lexi?
She was falling.
She knew it.
She could feel it in the way her chest ached when he said her name—not groaned, not shouted—said, like it was sacred.
“Lexi…”
She kissed him to shut him up before she did something stupid like say it back.
Not that word.
Not yet.
But God, it sat heavy behind her teeth.
His hand slid between them, fingers finding her clit, rubbing slow, perfect circles in time with every deep, dragging thrust.
Her back arched.
“Fuck,” she gasped, losing rhythm, thighs shaking again. “I’m—shit—I’m gonna—”
“Look at me,” he said, voice guttural. “Don’t look away.”
She didn’t.
Couldn’t.
And when she came this time, it wasn’t sharp or sudden.
It was deep. A full-body surrender that made her cry out and pull him tighter, her whole body clutching around him like she couldn’t stand the idea of space between them ever again.
He followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt, groaning her name against her neck like a secret, spilling into her like it meant something now.
And maybe it did.
Because when it was over…
Neither of them moved.
They just breathed.
Together.
Stay
Lexi lay on her side, sheets kicked off, one arm slung over Ethan’s stomach, skin still buzzing from everything.
From him.
Her breath was steady now, but her head?
Not even close.
She hadn’t meant to let it go that far.
She hadn’t meant to feel… this.
He hadn’t said it.
Neither had she.
But everything about the way he was touching her—slow fingertips tracing the slope of her hip, the soft curve of her waist, the backs of her thighs—said enough.
And for once, she didn’t want to ruin it by speaking.
She just wanted to stay in it.
In him.
In this.
“I should go,” he murmured into the dark.
Lexi didn’t move.
Didn’t respond.
But her fingers curled a little tighter around him.
That was enough.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t reach for his clothes.
Didn’t untangle their legs.
He just stayed.
And that?
That meant more than flowers or morning-after texts or I-love-you’s she wasn’t ready to hear.
He stayed.
And she let him.
For the first time in her life, Lexi Monroe fell asleep with someone’s arms around her and didn’t feel like she needed an exit strategy.
There was no pretending anymore.
Not for either of them.
Because the next morning?
They’d wake up together.
And nothing would be the same.
Chapter Nine – Goodbye’s Too Close to Say
Nothing Stays Summer Forever
Lexi woke up before Ethan.
Again.
The sun leaked through the blinds in lazy streaks, cutting across the bed like it was trying not to wake them too abruptly. But she was already awake, staring at the ceiling, Ethan’s arm heavy across her stomach, his breath warm against the curve of her shoulder.
It should’ve felt perfect.
Instead?
It felt like a countdown.
Every second that passed was one closer to goodbye. To September. To real life.
To college.
She hadn’t even opened her acceptance letter yet. It had been sitting on her dresser for a week, tucked under a pile of old notebooks and unopened texts.
She didn’t want to know.
Because knowing meant deciding.
And deciding meant choosing between something real—whatever this thing with Ethan was becoming—and everything she thought her life was supposed to look like.
She shifted under the sheets.
Ethan stirred beside her, groaning softly. “Mmmph… too early.”
“It’s ten.”
“Still illegal.”
Lexi smiled despite herself.
He peeked one eye open, blinked at her, then dragged her closer with a lazy arm. “Morning, trouble.”
“Morning, mistake.”
He grinned into her neck. “Harsh.”
She kissed his forehead.
Soft.
And didn’t say what she was thinking.
I’m scared I won’t be enough once we leave this town.
I’m scared you’ll forget me.
I’m scared I’ll forget this.
Instead, she said, “You hungry?”
“Always.”
He sat up and reached for his phone.
And that’s when she saw it.
The screen lit up.
A notification banner.
Welcome to UC Santa Cruz! Your orientation packet is now available.
Lexi froze.
Ethan didn’t see her reaction. He was busy groaning about his back and making some joke about how her bed was made for torture, not sleep.
But all she could hear was the clock.
Ticking.
Summer, slipping through her fingers.
And she didn’t know how to stop it.
Plans We Don’t Talk About
Lexi found her letter an hour later.
Still unopened.
Still buried under that pile of ignored everything—textbooks, earbuds, a hoodie that still smelled like Ethan.
She stared at it like it might bite.
University of Chicago.
Heavy envelope. That stiff, official weight that meant either yes or run.
Ethan was in the shower.
She had ten minutes.
She could open it now.
Find out.
Let it be real.
But her fingers didn’t move.
She picked up the envelope.
Held it.
And set it back down without tearing the seal.
Because if she didn’t know, she couldn’t lose him yet.
He came out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, water dripping down his chest, hair soaked, grinning like the night before had erased every rough edge between them.
It hadn’t.
Not for her.
“You okay?” he asked, drying off.
Lexi nodded. “Just tired.”
“You don’t have to pretend.”
“I’m not pretending.”
But she was.
She watched him pull on his jeans like he wasn’t thinking about anything beyond breakfast.
Like that UC Santa Cruz notification hadn’t punched her in the chest.
He pulled on a shirt. Sat beside her. Kissed her temple.
Then: “You should come with me.”
Lexi blinked. “What?”
“Santa Cruz. It’s California. It’s stupidly warm. You’d hate it.”
She tried to laugh. It came out thin. “That’s not how this works.”
He leaned back on his elbows. “Why not?”
“Because we haven’t even said what this is.”
Ethan didn’t answer.
Didn’t push.
Just looked at her like he wanted to say more.
But didn’t.
And that silence?
It said everything.
We Never Said Forever
Lexi didn’t ask him to stay that night.
She could have.
He would’ve said yes.
He always said yes when she pulled him close enough to forget how far apart they were going to be.
But this time, she let him walk out the front door.
Watched him disappear down her street.
And didn’t stop him.
Because if she kept needing him in her bed, she’d never survive when he wasn’t in it anymore.
Now the house was too quiet.
No hoodie draped over the chair. No warm breath on the back of her neck. No skin on skin to keep the doubt at bay.
Just her.
And the envelope.
Still sealed.
Still waiting.
She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at it like it could read her mind.
If I open it, everything changes.
If I don’t, I stay frozen.
And if I stay frozen, he leaves anyway.
She didn’t cry.
Not yet.
But the ache behind her ribs was starting to take up more space than her thoughts.
Because the truth she didn’t want to say out loud was this:
I think I’m already in love with him.
And we never even said we were real.
Across town, Ethan was sitting at his kitchen table, picking at a microwaved burrito and trying not to think about how badly he wanted to be back in her bed.
His mom leaned against the counter, watching him.
“You’re seeing someone,” she said. Not a question.
He didn’t deny it.
“Lexi?” she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips.
He froze.
She tilted her head. “You’ve been a mess since tenth grade around her. I’d have to be blind not to notice.”
“She’s… yeah.”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Didn’t say important, or mine, or worth breaking for.
But he didn’t need to.
Because the way his chest hurt when he thought about her?
That was the sentence.
And it ended with a word he still wasn’t brave enough to say.
Say It, or Lose Her
The envelope felt heavier tonight.
Like it had absorbed the weight of every unspoken thing between them.
Lexi sat cross-legged on her bed, hands resting on the letter like it might bite. Her phone was face down beside her. Her playlist was off. No distractions. Just silence and choice.
She stared at her name typed on the front.
Alexis Monroe
University of Chicago Admissions
It sounded like a version of her she hadn’t met yet.
One who didn’t fall in love with boys who made her laugh and made her moan and made her think about staying somewhere that wasn’t supposed to matter.
One who didn’t sleep in tangled sheets and bite her lip to keep from whispering I need you into a boy’s neck.
One who didn’t belong to Ethan Carter—at least not in the way she was starting to.
She opened the envelope.
Slow.
Tore the seal.
Unfolded the letter.
And read the word:
Congratulations.
Lexi didn’t smile.
She didn’t cry, either.
She just stared at the page and felt something deep in her gut go numb.
This was supposed to be it. The goal. The path. The plan.
But it didn’t feel like hers anymore.
It felt like something she’d said yes to before she knew what real was.
Before Ethan.
Before now.
Her phone buzzed.
She almost didn’t check it.
Ethan:
You up?
She picked it up. Typed nothing.
Ethan (again):
I miss you.
Her throat tightened.
Another buzz—this time, a call.
She let it ring once.
Twice.
Then she answered.
She didn’t say hello.
She didn’t have to.
Ethan’s voice was low. Careful. “You okay?”
“No.”
Silence.
“I opened it,” she whispered.
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
He didn’t respond at first.
Then: “That’s amazing.”
“It doesn’t feel amazing.”
“Why not?”
She closed her eyes.
“Because if I go, I’m leaving you.”
More silence.
Then, finally—his voice raw:
“What are we really doing, Lexi?”
And just like that—
The question neither of them wanted was out in the open.
You’re Not Just Summer
The silence stretched.
Lexi clutched the phone tighter, her fingers sweating against the plastic. Her heart was pounding loud enough to drown out his breathing on the other end.
“What are we really doing, Lexi?”
It was a question she’d asked herself in a dozen different ways since the first kiss. Since detention. Since the night he stayed and didn’t try to undress her.
They’d been pretending it was just summer.
Just sex.
Just distraction.
But now?
Now they both knew it was a lie.
She opened her mouth to speak.
Didn’t.
Instead, she asked a question of her own. A whisper. A challenge. A plea.
“Would you ask me to stay?”
Ethan’s breath hitched.
It was so soft she almost missed it.
Then, finally, his voice—low, rough, bare.
“No.”
Lexi’s heart dropped.
But before she could hang up, before she could say anything—
He added, “Because I love you.”
She froze.
The words hung in the space between them, electric and terrifying.
“I love you,” he said again, voice cracking now. “And if I ask you to stay, I’m afraid you’ll say yes just for me. And I want you to choose you, Lex. Not me. Not us. You.”
Tears welled up without warning.
She let them fall.
Didn’t hide them this time.
Because somehow, that hurt more than any goodbye could.
And also—somehow—it healed something, too.
“I don’t know what I want,” she whispered.
“That’s okay.”
More silence.
More breathing.
And then she said it.
Not the whole thing. Not yet.
Just enough.
“I think I love you too.”
And it wasn’t just summer anymore.
Chapter Ten – One Last Night and Everything Left Unsaid
The Clock’s Still Ticking
It was their last night.
They didn’t say it out loud.
They didn’t have to.
The date sat like a countdown in both of their chests—quiet but pounding.
Lexi stood at the mirror in her bathroom, watching herself swipe lip gloss over a mouth still swollen from last night’s phone call. She didn’t feel pretty. She felt full—with dread, with need, with everything she hadn’t figured out how to say.
Behind her, her phone buzzed.
Ethan:
Outside. I brought snacks. Don’t yell if they’re shitty.
She smiled despite herself. Wiped her eyes. Adjusted her shirt.
Tonight wasn’t about clarity.
It was about them.
Whatever they were.
Whatever they were becoming.
She opened the door and there he was—sweatshirt, backpack slung over one shoulder, sneakers wet from the grass, a plastic bag in his hand.
“Flamin’ Hot Cheetos,” he announced, holding the bag up like it was a peace offering. “I know you hate them. I brought them anyway.”
Lexi stepped aside to let him in.
“You’re the worst.”
“You love me.”
She blinked once, heart skipping.
Then—softly: “I know.”
It wasn’t a joke anymore.
He set the snacks down and dropped his bag beside the bed.
She stood in the middle of the room like she didn’t know how to move.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
“No.”
“Do you want to pretend it’s not happening?”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
He crossed to her in two slow steps, cupped her jaw, and kissed her like he hadn’t had her in months—not hours. Deep. Gentle. Final.
Then whispered, “I want to make you come so hard you forget we’re saying goodbye.”
Lexi laughed—shaky, wet at the edges.
“Then shut up and do it.”
And just like that, the room filled with heat again.
This time, for the last time.
One More Time
Ethan didn’t rush.
He peeled her shirt up slow, inch by inch, hands brushing bare skin like it mattered.
And it did.
Everything mattered tonight.
Lexi let him undress her one piece at a time—no teasing, no games. Just the sound of breathing and cotton sliding off skin, her bra unclasped, her shorts tugged low, her panties the last thing to fall.
She was naked before him.
But not just in the obvious way.
She didn’t smirk. She didn’t taunt. She just stood there, letting him see her with nothing between them.
“Come here,” he said, voice low, almost reverent.
She moved to him, climbed into his lap as he sank onto the bed, their skin flush, legs straddling his hips.
Her lips found his.
They kissed like it was a conversation without words—like everything they’d tried to ignore was right there, humming under the surface.
Ethan’s hands mapped her body slow. Over her back. Down her waist. Across her thighs. He cupped her breast and kissed the swell of it before sucking her nipple into his mouth with a soft, wet groan that made her gasp.
Her hips rolled without thinking, grinding against him, slick and desperate already.
But it wasn’t rough.
It wasn’t about fucking.
Not tonight.
“I want to remember this,” she whispered into his hair.
“You will.”
His hands slid between them, fingers teasing her clit until she moaned into his neck, her body pulsing with want.
And then—he lifted her.
Guided her.
She sank down on him slowly, their eyes locked, the stretch perfect and slow and deep.
Lexi gasped—her head falling back, fingers digging into his shoulders.
But Ethan didn’t move.
“Look at me,” he said, barely breathing.
She did.
And as she started to move—slow, steady, wet sounds filling the room—her chest burned with something worse than lust.
It was grief.
It was love.
And she didn’t want to stop.
Say It Without Saying It
Lexi rode him slow.
So slow it hurt.
So slow it felt like goodbye.
Her hands braced on Ethan’s chest, fingers flexing with every roll of her hips, every stretch, every slide. He was so deep inside her she could feel it in her throat—and still, she wanted him deeper.
But it wasn’t about speed.
Not tonight.
It was about everything they couldn’t say.
Ethan’s hands slid up her thighs, gripping her hips like he was afraid she’d vanish. His eyes never left hers. Not once. Not even when she started to fall apart.
Her breath hitched.
Her body clenched.
And she whispered it.
“Don’t stop.”
Not breathless.
Not teasing.
Begging.
And he knew what she meant.
Don’t stop touching me.
Don’t stop needing me.
Don’t stop loving me.
His hands tightened. His thrusts met hers now—up into her, deeper, harder, still slow, but full of something that made her eyes sting.
Lexi leaned forward, kissed him like she was tasting a memory in real time.
Their bodies moved together like they’d been made to do this one thing: fall apart in each other.
Her climax came quiet.
Her whole body shaking, thighs trembling, teeth sinking into his shoulder as she shattered in silence—because she didn’t want to cry.
But she did anyway.
One tear.
Just one.
And he kissed it away.
“Fuck,” she whispered, voice breaking.
Ethan wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, still buried deep inside her, and whispered back:
“I’ve got you.”
And maybe—just maybe—he meant always.
The Goodbye We Don’t Say
The room was too quiet after.
Their breaths had evened out. Sweat cooled between them. Her thighs were still sore, and he was still inside her, softening slowly, their bodies still tangled in a way that felt too intimate for words.
Lexi didn’t move.
Neither did Ethan.
They just… stayed.
Wrapped in sheets that smelled like skin and summer and one last chance.
She rested her cheek on his chest and listened to his heart.
It wasn’t racing anymore.
But it wasn’t steady either.
He ran his fingers through her hair like he couldn’t stop. Slow. Gentle. Repetitive.
He didn’t say anything.
She didn’t ask him to.
Because the moment either of them spoke, it would be real.
And real meant it was ending.
Tomorrow, they’d wake up and the countdown would hit zero.
Orientation packets.
Dorm keys.
Flights.
Deadlines.
Time zones.
A thousand little things pulling them in opposite directions.
And none of that was here—yet.
So she stayed curled against him.
Eyes open.
Chest tight.
And said nothing.
Even though she wanted to say everything.
Even though the words I love you, stay, don’t go burned the back of her throat.
She swallowed them like glass.
Because she wasn’t ready.
And neither was he.
But they both knew—
This wasn’t just sex anymore.
And the goodbye?
It had already started.
Don’t Make Me Choose
Ethan left at sunrise.
No big goodbye.
No scene.
Just a kiss to her forehead while she pretended to be asleep.
She wasn’t.
She listened to his footsteps down the stairs, the front door click, his car start.
And then silence.
Lexi lay there staring at the ceiling, mouth dry, throat raw, arms cold from where he wasn’t anymore.
This was it.
The end of summer.
The end of them.
Unless—
She shot out of bed.
Didn’t brush her hair. Didn’t grab a jacket. Just ran barefoot out the door, down the porch steps, heart hammering against her ribs like it knew it was almost too late.
His car was halfway down the street.
She shouted his name.
He hit the brakes.
Reversed.
Got out.
He looked stunned. Like hope wasn’t something he’d packed this morning.
She stood in the middle of the road in a T-shirt and nothing else, hair wild, eyes wide.
“I opened the letter,” she said.
“I know.”
“I got in.”
“I know that too.”
She took a breath.
The wind moved around her. Fast. Warm. Like summer was rushing to end before she could change her mind.
“I want both,” she said. “I want school. I want you.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“But I’m scared,” she admitted. “Scared that if I go, I’ll lose this. That I’ll lose you.”
He cupped her face, thumb brushing a tear she didn’t realize had fallen.
“Then don’t make me the reason you don’t go,” he said softly. “Make me the reason you come back.”
She smiled. Weak. Real.
“You sure you’ll wait?”
He kissed her. Soft. Full. Final—but not ending.
“I waited through hating you. I think I can handle missing you.”
Lexi laughed once, sharp and broken.
Then she kissed him again.
And when they pulled apart, they didn’t say goodbye.
Because they weren’t done.
Not even close.
THE END
Epilogue: Winter Break – You Came Back. Now Take Me.
Lexi didn’t text first.
She landed.
Came home.
Dropped her bags in her old room, opened the window, and waited.
He showed up twenty-four minutes later.
Hoodie. Wind-chapped lips. Breath fogging the air.
He didn’t knock.
Just climbed through her window like it was still summer and he still had something to prove.
They stared at each other.
He looked taller. Sharper.
She looked colder—but that didn’t last long.
Because the second the window shut behind him?
They were on each other.
No words.
No hi.
Just Ethan’s mouth crashing into hers, hands gripping her thighs as he pinned her against the wall, his leg slotted between hers like he remembered exactly how she liked it.
Her fingers tangled in his hair. Pulled.
He groaned against her lips.
“You cut it,” she whispered, breathless.
“You grew yours out.”
“You still think about me?”
He pulled back long enough to drag his eyes over her—chest heaving, no bra under her too-thin tee, legs bare, lips pink.
“You’re all I fucking think about.”
Lexi pushed him back toward the bed.
He let her.
She climbed on top, straddled his hips, grinding down until he hissed and grabbed her ass with both hands.
“You miss me?” she asked, hips rolling slow.
“I dream about you,” he rasped.
“Good.”
She leaned down, bit his lip.
And when she whispered, “I haven’t come since you left,”—
—he lost it.
Clothes hit the floor in record time. Her shirt. His jeans. No pretense. No teasing.
Just need.
And when she sank down onto him—bare, hot, dripping wet from the second he walked in—he swore loud enough to shake the bed.
She rode him like she’d been counting the days.
He grabbed her hips, met every bounce with a desperate thrust of his own, biting back groans as she clenched around him, whispering “Don’t you dare come before I do.”
“Then come,” he said, sweat slicking his chest.
So she did.
Hard.
Loud.
Twice.
And he followed—head back, mouth open, body locked tight beneath hers.
They collapsed together.
No sheets.
No covers.
Just heat in a freezing house and sweat cooling fast.
Lexi curled up on his chest, breath still shaking.
Ethan brushed her hair back.
“Next time,” he said, voice ruined, “I’m not waiting months.”
Lexi smiled.
“Next time,” she said, “you’ll be inside me before I unpack.”
Second Epilogue: Spring Break – Sand, Skin, and Zero Chill
This Was Never Gonna Be Relaxing
They made it twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes after Ethan pulled the car into the driveway of the rental house.
Fifteen of those minutes were Lexi pretending she wasn’t going to ruin him the second they got inside.
The last five?
Him bending her over the kitchen counter while the front door was still wide open.
She was in a white bikini top and loose linen shorts.
He was shirtless, tanned, with sunglasses hanging from his waistband and sunscreen smeared on one collarbone.
She licked it off before he could speak.
He grabbed her ass and groaned, “You’ve gotten worse.”
“You like worse.”
Then her hand was inside his swim trunks, stroking him slow while he pressed her against the counter, mouthing down her neck like she was the only reason he had skin.
“Still hate sand?” she whispered.
He growled, “Hate clothes more.”
She dropped to her knees.
Pulled him out.
Took him deep and mean—sucking him like she had something to prove, and honestly? She did.
It had been a month since they’d touched.
Since she’d tasted him.
Since she’d made him come so hard he forgot his name.
By the time he exploded in her mouth, gripping her ponytail and whispering “Fuck, Lex, I’m gonna—”, she was already stripping her own shorts off.
“Beach or bed?” she asked, wiping her mouth and standing.
“Both.”
One hour later they were in the dunes.
Lexi was straddling him under a towel, the wind in her hair and her bikini top pushed halfway up her chest. She was riding him fast, the waves crashing somewhere behind them, her voice a broken moan in his ear.
“God, I forgot how deep you hit—”
“You’ll remember every second by the time we leave.”
“I’m not walking straight tomorrow.”
“You’re not walking at all.”
Back at the house, they fucked in the shower.
Then the hallway.
Then on the balcony with her hands gripping the railing and Ethan behind her, kissing her spine between thrusts.
“You still love me?” he asked, breathless.
Lexi turned her head, sweat on her lip, her eyes half-lidded.
“I’m obsessed with you.”
Then she came around him, screaming into her forearm so the neighbors wouldn’t hear—
—and he came seconds later, holding her like she’d disappear if he let go.
They collapsed into the bed, tangled and sore, the ocean humming outside like it knew exactly what they’d done.
And Lexi?
She smiled into the sheets.
“Worst vacation ever.”
Ethan kissed her shoulder.
“Best mistake I’ve ever made.”