Page 232 of Wild Crown

We weren’t falling asleep tangled up during Christmas movies as often, because I had exams and he had film and practice and scouts and conference noise and a body that could be one hard hit away from becoming a headline.

But somehow, even with less time, he got harder to shake.

He was in everything now.

In the hoodie I stole and kept folded at the end of my bed.

In the coffee order I stopped pretending he didn’t know.

In the way I checked my phone after training, not for my mother, not for campus gossip, not even for soccer updates.

For him.

Drew:Eat protein.

Me:Bossy.

Drew:Beautiful.

Me:That did not answer the accusation.

Drew:It distracted you though.

It always did.

That was the problem.

Yeah, distracted me from the fact that New Year’s Eve was ten days away.

Ten days to midnight.

A clean break.

My brilliant, practical, emotionally mature plan had started to feel less like control and more like a countdown to an execution I had scheduled myself.

I told myself this was still fake.

I told myself we were just good at pretending.

I told myself wanting him did not mean loving him.

Which was technically true.

Probably.

Maybe.

I knew one thing for certain—I wanted Drew Travers so badly I was starting to resent him for being honorable.

That was new.

Men had pushed me before. Men had wanted to take. Men had looked at me like my body was a locked door and their ego was the key.

Drew did not.

Drew kissed me like he wanted to ruin my common sense, touched me like he had memorized every place I went soft, made me shake apart in his arms more than once, then stopped before the final line every single time.

Not because he didn’t want me.