Page 167 of Left on Base

But I don’t. The air feels thick, like the room itself is holding its breath, waiting for me to do something. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could go back and tell that girl in the photo to trust Jaxon. To trust herself. To never let anyone else’s secrets ruin what was good between them.

The ceiling just stares back at me, blank and endless. I wonder if Brynn’s lying in her bed right now, feeling just as hollow. If she even gets what she took from me—the trust, theteam, the chance to believe in someone without always checking for cracks.

For a second, I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But then I remember the way she looked away when I asked if she’d told anyone, the way she let me believe it was Jaxon, and how she never once tried to set the record straight. Some things you can’t take back. Some things you carry, heavy and silent, long after the final out.

Outside, rain drums on the window, a relentless, moody soundtrack. I press my palm to my forehead, wishing the ache away, but it only grows sharper. Jaxon’s face on my phone, the memory of everything we were—every mistake, every almost—pulls at me until I can’t stand the quiet anymore.

I throw back the covers and swing my legs out of bed. The floor is freezing. My toes curl as I wedge them into sneakers, grab a hoodie off the back of my chair, and stuff my phone into my pocket. No umbrella. No plan. Just instinct or maybe desperation—who can tell the difference at this point? If Olivia Rodrigo were here, she’d probably tell me to write a ballad and eat ice cream. Instead, I’m about to walk across campus in a monsoon.

The rain slaps me in the face the second I step outside—cold and sharp, like the universe is trying to talk some sense into me. The campus is empty, puddles turning the sidewalk to a mirror. My hair sticks to my neck, water running down my back, but I don’t slow down. My heart’s pounding so loud I swear Jaxon could hear it from his window.

By the time I reach his dorm, I’m soaked through, shivering. I pause outside the door, breath fogging in the hallway, and say a silent prayer—please let him be here, please don’t let me have done this for nothing. My knuckles sting as I knock.

A few seconds pass. I hear movement, the faint sounds of a meow, and then the door opens. Jaxon stands there insweatpants and a faded Huskies t-shirt, holding Mookie, eyes going wide when he sees me dripping in the hallway.

“Cam?” His voice is low, careful. Like I might be a ghost. “What—are you okay?”

I don’t answer. I step inside, water pooling at my feet, my breath ragged. He sets Mookie down and he immediately starts licking at my shoes, probably for the water.

I look down at Mookie—he’s bigger now but still a kitten, biting at my shoelaces like they’re strings he just discovered. I look back to Jaxon. “Hey.” All the things I want to say—about trust, about Brynn, about what we lost—get stuck behind my teeth and all I can manage is hey, like it’s normal I just showed up at his dorm.

He shuts the door quietly, still watching me, like he’s bracing for me to vanish. I look at him—really look—and something inside me finally snaps, or maybe it just lets go. I don’t care about right or wrong or what comes next. I need this. I need him.

“Cam,” he starts, but I shake my head, rainwater dripping down my cheeks. I’ll be honest—could be tears mixed with the rain, but I’m not admitting it.

“Just—” My voice cracks. “Just this once. I need to not feel like this for a while. And I miss you.”

Pause here. I know. We shouldn’t do this—sex was always our fallback—but maybe we need this before playoffs. A moment where we can just forget and be together. It’s hard to resist someone who makes you feel the way Jaxon makes me feel, because nothing else comes close—the thrill, the obsession, needing to be close because if I’m not, nothing makes sense and I can’t breathe.

“It’s okay,” he breathes, but it’s shaky. “We don’t… have to talk.” Jaxon steps closer, hands gentle as he brushes wet hair from my face. For the first time in weeks, the ache in my chesteases, just a little. Maybe it’s not a solution. Maybe it’s not even forgiveness. But for tonight, it’s enough.

I glance at the empty bed across the room with Mookie already settled on Jaxon’s pillow. “Is Jameson gone for the night?” My voice is barely a whisper.

“Yeah.” Jaxon nods, never looking away. “His parents are in town. Won’t be back till tomorrow.”

Relief and nerves crash in my chest, sharp and electric. He steps closer, hands settling on my hips, fingers digging in just enough to remind me this is real. He leans down, searching my face for something—permission, maybe, or a reason to stop—but I don’t give him one.

He lifts me gently, laying me back on his bed, the sheets cool against my overheated skin. He picks up Mookie, sets him on the ground, only for him to slingshot back up to his spot on Jaxon’s pillow.

I laugh. “Some things never change.”

He smirks. “Little shit is a pillow hog.”

He draws a careful breath, his mouth finds mine, soft at first, then hungry—like he’s been waiting as long as I have. Rain pounds the window. I let myself get lost in the sound, in the way he kisses me like I’m the only thing that matters, like maybe we can make the world shut up for one night.

He leans in and kisses me. Can we do this—just once and not get caught up in feelings and memories? I don’t know. I want this with him. I want it more than my next breath.

He kisses me again, slow and careful, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. My hands find his face, tracing that stubborn jaw, the familiar stubble that gives me goosebumps as it slides over my skin. He pulls me closer, his touch reverent, almost shy—like we’re both relearning how to be close after everything.

The rain drums harder, making the room feel smaller. The pull to be closer to him is unexplainable, addicting. Jaxon looksat me, searching my eyes for regret. I shake my head and pull him closer. We move together the way we always did—easy, natural, our bodies speaking a language only we know. Longing in every touch, something gentle, a promise that even if this is just for tonight, it matters.

He’s kissing my neck, my bare breasts, when I pull at his shoulders. “I want to… kiss you.”

“I know,” he says, but doesn’t stop. I start to rock my hips, but Jaxon stops me, holding me in place, grunting as he lifts his mouth back to mine. “I’ve needed this so bad,” he rasps.

He thrusts again, deeper, and I moan his name, my heart pounding in my ears, drowning out the rain and our heavy breathing.

Jaxon drives deeper, hitching my leg over his hip, grunts escaping as he tosses his head back. “Oh fuck.”

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