CHAPTER forty-three
I blink, snapping out of it, and grin like an idiot. "Careful, sugarplum. I show up for five seconds, and you're already falling for me."
As soon as it leaves my mouth, I wince internally.
Really? That's what you went with?
She snorts. "You do know that's a terrible pickup line, right?"
Maybe. But the faint pink dusting her cheeks says otherwise.
I lean a little closer, voice dropping just enough to tease. "Yeah, but it worked, didn't it?"
Her eyes roll, but her smile gives her away.
And fuck, if there's a cure for this feeling, I don't want it.
A throat clears beside us. Loud. Purposeful.
I don't even have to look.
I know it's the human-cockroach-of-bad-timing-Adam.
Seriously, does this guy not have anywhere else to hover? Read the room, my dude—preferably from another ZIP code.
My shoulders automatically square. One look at him and I want to rearrange his face for interrupting my moment with Caroline.
I throw him a glare sharp enough to peel paint.
But instead of backing off, the asshole just smirks. Even has the audacity to chuckle under his breath.
Caroline glances between us, sensing the shift. "Oh. Right. Zach—this is Adam. Adam, this is Zach."
Adam's the first to extend his hand. I take it, grip tightening as soon as our palms meet.
His tightens too.
And just like that, we're in a full-on handshake death match—smiling like civilized humans while silently trying to crush each other's bones. I can see it in his jaw, the tiny twitch of pain he's trying to hide.
Nice try, buddy. I've got forearms carved from years of slapshots and fight drills; this isn't even effort.
Meanwhile, my sweet Caroline—blissfully unaware of the silent testosterone battle happening right in front of her—just keeps smiling politely like she's hosting a charity meet-and-greet.
"Hey, man. Great game last night."
"Thanks," I say flatly.
"And your little mid-game concert?" He gives me two thumbs up, that smirk still hanging on his face. "Bold move. Real crowd-pleaser."
I arch a brow. "Ah, you saw that, huh?"
A smug grin tugs at my mouth. "Yeah, well... guess I just wanted to set the record straight. Let everyone know I've only ever had my eye on one girl," my eyes cut to Adam, sharp as a slap, "—and, you know, make sure no one else gets any bright ideas."
I slide an arm around Caroline's waist, pulling her just a little closer. "Because she's mine."
Caroline rolls her eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't pop out, but she doesn't say anything. Doesn't correct me either.
I'll take that as a win.
Adam's shoulders shake with a soft laugh, and he raises his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, man. You won't have a problem with me. Message received loud and clear."
I narrow my eyes. "Really?"
He nods, still grinning—but there's a flicker of something honest in his expression. "Yeah, really. Care and I are just friends." Adam says with a little shrug. "I mean, come on, man—I'm not stupid. I know who she really wants. I never stood a chance and that's why I never tried anything."
And for a second, I don't know what to do with that. Yeah, I still don't like the guy—but damn... now I almost feel bad for him.
I can tell just by the way he looks at her. The guy's a goner for my girl too.
And honestly? I can't even blame him.
Caroline's the kind of person who makes it real easy to fall. She's the sweetest, kindest soul, and somehow still manages to be funny, stubborn, and impossible not to love.
You'd have to be blind—or brain-dead—not to fall for her.
She's a gem. A rare one. And she's mine.
Maybe Adam Klein isn't so bad after all. Still a prick, but like... a respectable prick.
"I should probably get going," he says, tone polite, easy. "See you in class tomorrow, Care."
Caroline smiles, gives a small wave. "Yeah. See you, Adam."
He nods at me once, and I return it. A silent truce. Then he slips into the crowd, leaving just me and her.
I glance at her, letting a grin creep in. "Wanna grab a drink?"
Caroline crosses her arms, one brow rising. "Aren't you being a little too possessive tonight, Westbrook?"
"You can't blame me, sugarplum," I say, hands raised in mock defense. "Last night's stunt was supposed to make it crystal clear to everybody that I'm yours and you're my girl. Then I walk in and see him all over you—again—making you laugh."
I pout like a kicked puppy. "Can't stand the guy. He makes me jealous."
Her head jerks up a little at that, surprise flashing for a split second before she exhales in that classic exasperated-Caroline way.
"First of all, the only reason Adam and I were dancing was because he saw a few of your rabid fangirls heading my way while I was alone. He was trying to help."
Well, damn.
So the douche was protecting her.
Guess I owe him an apology for acting like a territorial jackass... and maybe a thank-you gift basket.
See? I'm not totally irrational—I can recognize when I'm being an ass. Growth. Character development.
Caroline continues, leveling me with that firm, no-nonsense stare. "Second, stop calling me 'your girl' or saying I'm yours."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm not," she says flatly. "Just because you serenaded me in front of hundreds of people and confessed your feelings for me doesn't suddenly make me yours, Zach. Or mean we're together. It doesn't work like that."
"That's just semantics, Caroline."
I cradle her jaw with one hand, and she goes perfectly still. Not pulling back, just… holding her breath. Her lashes tremble when my thumb skims her skin, like the touch startled something awake in her.
"You and I both know we've always belonged together. Three years apart didn't change that. Hell, it only made it stronger."
I lean in until our foreheads touch, my thumb tracing slow, gentle circles against her cheek.
"Labels?" I murmur. "Boyfriend, girlfriend—those are just formalities, babe. It's okay if you're not ready to call it anything yet... but don't ever deny what's been real between us since day one."
My voice softens, rough at the edges. "You've always been mine—the one constant in every version of my life. And I—" I smile faintly, brushing my nose against hers, "I've always been hopelessly, recklessly, irrevocably yours."
Her cheeks flare crimson, eyes wide and searching mine like she's not sure what to do with all the air between us. Then her tongue darts out, a quick flick across her lips—barely a second, but it's enough to knock the sense out of me.
God, those lips. Soft, glossy, heartbreak written all over them.
"Fuck, I really wanna kiss you."
Shit.
Did I just say that out loud?
Her eyes widen instantly, a soft gasp slipping through those lips I was just trying not to stare at. And yep—too late now. No take-backs.
Her lips part just a little more, and for a moment, I think she's gonna bolt—or slap me.
But she doesn't.
"I'm not sure... if that's a good idea," she whispers, voice trembling. But her gaze drifts right back to my mouth, and she swallows hard like she's fighting herself.
"Why not, babe?" I croon, half-teasing, half-pleading.
"Because..." she fidgets, shy and flustered, her lashes sweeping down. "I might be bad at it."
I can't stop the grin that spreads across my face.
It's ridiculous how happy that confession makes me. She's not hesitating because she doesn't want to kiss me—she's hesitating because she's nervous.
Her eyes flick back up, cheeks pink. "Stop making fun of me, dumbass," she mutters, looking away. "I've never been kissed, so it's only natural that I might be bad at it."
I reach out, fingers catching her chin between my thumb and forefinger, tilting her face back toward me. "That's where you're wrong."
Her brows knit together. "Huh?"
"You already had your first kiss," I say, a smirk tugging at my mouth. "With me."
Disbelief flashes across her face. "What?"
"High school. Sophomore year." My smile grows softer at the memory.
"I had that big geometry makeup test the next day—you were tutoring me.
We were crammed over your desk, you explaining how to find the area of a trapezoid or something, and I was dead tired from practice. I must've knocked out right there."
Her lips part as I go on. "Next thing I know, I wake up to your face crashing into mine. You must've fallen asleep too, and boom—your lips landed straight on mine." I laugh quietly. "You snored, by the way. Really cute."
Her jaw drops. "I thought that was just a... dream."
"Oh, so you remember it." I chuckle, my chest warm. "Guess it wasn't just me."
"I... I thought I was just dreaming," she says again.
Her blush deepens, and I can't resist brushing my thumb against her cheek again. "You didn't just steal my first kiss that night, babe. You stole my heart too."
"Zach..." she whispers, voice small and wobbly.
I grin, voice low and teasing again. "That kiss might've been short, but damn, it ruined me for everyone else."
For a moment, neither of us says anything.
The music's still blasting, people still moving all around us — laughter, bass, the shuffle of feet — but for me, it's like someone hit mute.
All I can hear is her breathing. Soft. Uneven. Brushing against my skin.
Her eyes dart between mine and my mouth, and it's like the air thickens, humming with everything we're not saying.
I swallow hard, thumb still tracing the curve of her jaw. "Can I..." My voice trails off for a beat, and I let out a small breath, softer now. "Can I kiss you?"
For a beat, she just stares at me — wide eyes, lips parted — then the faintest ghost of a smile curls on her mouth. And that's all it takes.
The tiniest nod.
No hesitation. I close the distance.
The moment our lips brush, the world detonates into static. It's soft — barely a kiss, really — but it feels like striking a match in a room full of oxygen. My pulse stutters, heart slamming so hard I swear it's trying to break free from my chest.
Every nerve in my body lights up, sparking like fireworks under my skin.