Page 135 of Well That Happened

Then he steps in and closes the door behind him.

He doesn’t sit.

Doesn’t look at me right away.

Just stands there like he’s trying to decide which version of himself to be.

“I heard you got dizzy in the shower earlier,” he says eventually.

“I stood too fast. Not a big deal.”

He frowns. “You need to be careful.”

I cross my arms. “You didn’t come in here to lecture me about blood pressure.”

He sighs. “No. I didn’t.”

I wait.

And he… stalls.

Fusses.

Steps forward and kneels to check the ace wrap on my ankle, even though it’s exactly how he left it earlier.

“You’re still mad,” I say quietly.

He looks up. “I’m not mad.”

“Then what?”

He stands again. “I don’t know. I just…” He runs a hand through his hair. “You kissed me. And then we never talked about it. And now you’re pretending to date Caleb, and I’m supposed to act like that’s fine.”

I don’t answer. I can’t. Because the tension between us is twisting tighter by the second.

Hunter sits down on the bed beside me.

His hands are clenched in his lap, like he’s holding himself back from setting fire to the room.

“If you think I have any idea what I’m doing…” I whisper, “you’re wrong. I just don’t want Fletcher to freak out about…” I hesitate. “Everything.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy,” he says, voice low.

He doesn’t move for a beat.

Then he turns toward me—eyes searching mine.

Then without warning, his mouth crashes into mine with heat and hunger and frustration and need. Like he’s been holding this back for too long and finally lost the strength to fight it. His hand slides to the back of my neck, anchoring me to him as if he’s afraid I’ll vanish. His other hand curls around my hip, fingers digging in like he’s memorizing the shape of me through touch alone.

And I melt.

Completely.

It’s years of tension detonating in a single, blistering moment. Literal years of watching him quietly from the sidelines and hating myself for my stupid crush on him—that clearly was never reciprocated.

I’ve imagined this kiss more times than I can count—but it’s even better than I ever dared to hope. It’s not gentle.

It’s not careful.

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