Page 28 of Well That Happened

I make a sound—soft, involuntary. Need, or maybe relief.

And something in him slips.

The next kiss is deeper. Messier. He shifts, half-kneeling on the bed now, one hand cupping my face, the other braced beside me as he kisses me like he’s not afraid of breaking me anymore.

I drag him down with me, flat on the mattress, his weight pressing into mine in all the best ways. The friction is maddening. He groans into my mouth when I arch, like he can’t help it.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“It’s not enough,” I whisper back, and then we’re kissing again, slower this time but somehow hungrier.

His hands skim under my shirt, fingertips teasing along the bare strip of skin just above the waistband of my jeans. My whole body hums, electric and alive.

I tug at the hem of his shirt like I want to take it off—and Ido—but the moment is already spiraling into something dangerous, something I might not be able to stop.

That’s when the front door slams.

Voices. Keys. Laughter.

The guys.

We freeze.

Our breathing is wrecked. My lips feel bruised, my shirt is half-wrung in Caleb’s hands, and I swear if he looks at me like that for one more second, I’m going to say screw it and kiss him again anyway.

He lets out a frustrated exhale, presses his forehead to mine.

“I’m gonna regret leaving this room.”

“Go,” I whisper, shoving at his chest. “Before someone sees your walk of shame.”

He laughs, kisses me once more—just a quick, soft press—and moves toward the door.

“Sweet dreams, Ri.”

I don’t answer.

I’m too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

He’s gone.

And I’m left with swollen lips, a racing heart, and the terrifying realization that this?

Wasn’t nothing.

Chapter Eight

Rilee

It’s barely noon and I’m already halfway to a panic spiral.

Lexi and I are holed up in the corner of our favorite café, her laptop open, iced latte sweating beside it, and my nerves shredded like confetti.

“You kissed him?” she asks again, voice pitched for maximum drama.

“Shh!” I hiss, glancing around like someone might have the entire hockey house bugged. “It wasn’t—it wasn’t just a kiss.”

Lexi leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Did you finally do the horizontal hockey stick with Caleb Ward?”

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