CHAPTER fifty-eight #5
The music swells, lifting into its final sweeping notes.
Caroline and Adam glide into their ending, moving in perfect unison.
She spins into a final pirouette, then steps forward as Adam extends an arm behind her, both of them forming a clean, elegant tableau — her chin tilted gracefully, one arm raised like she's catching falling snowflakes, his stance strong and still, framing her like she's the centerpiece of the whole damn world.
It's a beautiful finish.
And then the entire mainstage erupts.
People leap to their feet. Applause thunders through the room, echoing so loud it vibrates through my ribs. A couple whistles cut through the claps, sharp and proud, and for a second the place feels less like a college theater and more like a full-blown Broadway house on opening night.
My girl stands there onstage, chest rising with her breath, glittering under the lights like she was born in them.
She's smiling — that real smile, the one that takes over her whole face — and something in my chest does that embarrassing squeeze it always does.
She deserves every second of this.
Hell, she deserves more.
Cody smacks my shoulder. "Dude. She killed it."
Killed it?
No.
She obliterated it.
I can't even speak. I'm clapping like a man possessed, grinning like an idiot, and I know — I just know — this moment is burning itself into me for good.
Because this is Caroline's night.
And watching her shine this bright?
Yeah.
It's my favorite thing in the world to watch.
CHAPTER fifty-six
CAROLINE
Zach's bed is warm, his arms are warmer, and I'm basically draped over him like a clingy cat who has zero shame. My hair is down, and I'm wearing my little white floral sleep set — which he has already looked at like six times even though he's trying to pretend he hasn't.
He's shirtless, in his blue sweatpants, lying back against his pillows with that stupidly soft, tired, happy smile he only gets around me. I'm lying on top of him — chest to chest, legs tangled, my hand resting on his shoulder as I stare down at him.
Somewhere behind us on his dresser are two massive bouquets — one from Zach, overflowing with pastel hydrangeas and roses, and another from my parents, all soft pink blooms wrapped beautifully.
They look absolutely ridiculous in a hockey boy's dorm room, but somehow... perfect here.
We'd just come from the dinner my parents put together — a small, private celebration downtown with my family and Zach's. I loved every second of it. Getting to celebrate one of the biggest moments of my life with my favorite people? Yeah... it felt really, really good.
After dinner, Zach decided he wasn't ready to let me go yet. Not after the last two weeks we'd had. Not after barely seeing each other thanks to our chaos-level schedules.
And now that hockey is on break until January and my showcase is officially behind me, he said he wanted us to make up for lost time.
Which — let's be honest — took absolutely zero convincing. He could've just pointed in the direction of his dorm and I would've followed him with the determination of a Roomba chasing a piece of dust.
So now we're here, tangled up on his bed.
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, thumb grazing my cheek before it drifts away.
"So," I say, tracing a circle on his collarbone. "Be honest. How was the show? And don't give me the fake supportive-boyfriend answer. I want the real one."
Zach snorts. "Fake supportive boyfriend? Babe. You do know I have actual eyes, right? And I'm not exactly biased."
I roll mine.
"I'm serious." He chuckles. "It was amazing. You were amazing."
His fingers brush down my spine, slow and lazy. "I don't know much about theater, but even I was like... holy shit."
"Yeah?" I tease, trying to sound casual even though my heart is doing parkour.
"Seriously," he says, voice dipping softer. "You were... God, Care. You were just so good. The whole time I was sitting there thinking, Yep. That's my girl."
My cheeks heat instantly.
And instead of melting like a normal human being, I bonk my forehead against his chest.
He laughs. "What is that? Why do you do violence when you're flustered?"
"Shut up," I mumble into his skin.
His hand moves to cradle the back of my head. "Hey."
He gently lifts my face so I have no choice but to look at him. "I'm proud of you. That's all."
"So you liked it?"
"Liked it?" He scoffs. "I loved it. Especially when you were dancing."
His eyes soften in that way that makes my stomach somersault.
"I didn't blink the entire time. I literally forgot how to breathe. You walked onstage and everything else just... blurred out. I swear, if someone had set the whole place on fire, I probably still would've been staring at you."
My heart stutters, squeezes, somersaults — does every embarrassing cardio move known to mankind.
"Zach..." It comes out breathy, small.
"I mean it," he insists, his hand sliding up my spine in slow, comforting strokes that make my muscles liquefy.
"I think I fell more in love with you tonight."
"Oh my God," I groan, burying my face in his neck as tears prick annoyingly behind my eyes. "Stop being so perfect."
He laughs — a soft vibration against my cheek. "Can't. It's a condition."
I smack his chest lightly.
He catches my hand effortlessly, lacing our fingers together before pulling them to his lips for a slow kiss.
"I love you, baby," he murmurs against my knuckles.
My breath hitches.
I bite the corner of my lip, feeling stupidly shy even though we're literally tangled together on his bed.
"I love you too," I whisper.
A spark of mischief flickers in my brain — the kind that wakes up every nerve in my body at once, because oh no, I'm actually considering this.
Something I've wanted to do for a while now but always chickened out of.
But tonight feels... right.
Special.
And honestly? Zach deserves a little something extra for being the world's most disgustingly perfect boyfriend.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I wiggle out of his arms.
Zach blinks up at me, brows drawing together. "Where are you going?"
I just smirk, sliding off the bed.
I pad toward the door, fingers curling around the knob. Right before I twist it, I glance back at him over my shoulder.
"Don't you dare move an inch," I warn with a wicked little smile. "I'll be right back."
His eyes narrow playfully, but he relaxes back against the pillows. "Okay," he says, chuckling. "I'll be right here... waiting."
My grin widens — dangerous, excited — and I slip out.
The hallway is dim and quiet, most of the guys long passed out when we got here. I walk lightly, trying not to wake anyone. A couple of voices float from somewhere, so some of the boys must still be awake, but overall the place is calm.
I'm halfway down the hallway when a door suddenly swings open, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
Taylor Lewis freezes in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights.
"Uh—hi," she blurts out, recovering with a too-fast smile.
I haven't seen Taylor around the hockey house in forever. Not for any dramatic reason — she's just been busy with the part-time job she started a couple months ago. That's what Zach told me, anyway.
She and I have never really had the chance to get to know each other. We've never hung out or talked beyond a quick "Hi," but we always acknowledge each other around campus — a polite smile, a small nod, that kind of thing. Nothing weird, nothing tense.
And honestly? I don't feel any jealousy toward her.
...Well, not anymore, not after Zach told me the full truth about their old "arrangement."
There's no bad vibe from her at all. She actually seems pretty cool. Sweet, even.
Part of me hopes we get the chance to know each other properly someday.
I tilt my head... and notice which room she just slipped out of.
Kentaro's.
A slow, knowing smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it.
Taylor's eyes widen slightly — she follows my gaze, realizes exactly what I'm realizing, and her cheeks flush pink so fast it's actually impressive.
"Oh—I just... um..." She clears her throat. "Helped Ken-chan— I mean Kentaro get home."
"Mhm," I say, still wearing that knowing, not-subtle-at-all smirk. "I see."
Taylor forces a tiny, nervous chuckle. "Anyway—I should go."
She starts speed-walking down the hallway, almost makes it three steps, then stops abruptly and turns back toward me.
"I'm really happy to see you and Zach together," she says, more sincere now than flustered. "I've never seen him this happy since I met him."
The warmth in her voice catches me off guard in the best way — soft, genuine, with absolutely zero weirdness.
"Thank you," I say, giving her a warm smile of my own.
She lifts a hand in a small wave. "See you around, Caroline."
I wave back. "Yeah. See you around."
Then she disappears down the hallway, and I'm left standing there with a stupid grin on my face — because something is definitely brewing between Taylor Lewis and the Ridgewater Warriors' grumpy goalie.
I make my way back down the hallway, the little metal can cold in my hand.
Zach always keeps whipped cream in their fridge because I like it on everything — hot chocolate, fruit, straight from the can when I'm stressed — so it's not exactly shocking that there's extra stocked.
.. but tonight, I have a different plan for it.
When I push open his door, the first thing I see is him.
Exactly where I left him.
Exactly as instructed.
Zach is stretched out on the bed, hands tucked behind his head, biceps flexed just enough to be unfair, gaze already sliding toward me the moment he hears the door.
A slow, knowing grin curves his mouth.
"Took you long enough..."
I almost tell him about running into Taylor, about her slipping out of Kentaro's room like a startled kitten... but I stop myself. Whatever that is — or isn't — it isn't my business to share. And I'm not about to start rumors over something I'm not even sure about.
So instead, I match his grin with one of my own.