Chapter 11 Devan #2
"Never will." I start to move, finding a rhythm that's slow and sweet. Not fucking—making love. I want to feel every inch of him, memorize every sound he makes.
"We're going to be so good," Sam murmurs, his eyes half-closed. "At the internship. We're going to blow their minds."
"We are."
"And then after—grad school, maybe. Or a startup. Or—ah, right there—or we take over the world."
"Whatever you want." I thrust deeper, hitting the spot that makes him moan. "I'll follow you anywhere."
The pressure builds slowly, sweetly. I feel his body tightening around me, feel my knot starting to swell. This time there's no urgency to it—just the inevitable, wonderful conclusion to something we've been building all along.
"Close," Sam whimpers. "Devan, I'm—"
"I've got you." I wrap a hand around his cock, stroking in time with my thrusts. "Let go. I've got you."
He comes with my name on his lips, spilling over my fist, clenching around me so tight it pulls me over the edge with him. My knot swells, locking us together, and I bury my face in his neck as the pleasure crashes through me in waves.
We stay like that for a long time. Tangled up, tied together, breathing each other in.
"Best day ever," Sam mumbles into my shoulder.
"Best day so far," I correct. "We've got a lot more coming."
He laughs softly. "Look at you. Being optimistic. Who are you and what have you done with my grumpy alpha?"
"He's still here." I press a kiss to his temple. "He's just happy."
"Good." Sam snuggles closer, settling in for the wait while my knot goes down. "I like you happy."
"I like me happy too," I admit. "It's new."
"Get used to it." He yawns. "I plan on making you happy for a very long time."
I hold him tighter and let myself believe it.
***
The Daily Grind is packed when we arrive, but our usual corner booth is miraculously empty. Probably because Wes is standing guard over it like a very large, very intimidating bouncer.
"There they are!" Braiden spots us first, bouncing out of his seat. He's wearing a sweater that says "SEROTONIN" with a little molecule diagram. "The power couple! The dynamic duo! The—"
"Okay, that's enough," Wes says, pulling Braiden back down with one massive arm. But he's grinning. "Congrats, you two. Seriously."
"Thanks, Wes." Sam slides into the booth, tugging me after him. "Where's everyone else?"
"Toby's getting drinks," Jionni says from across the table. He's sprawled out, arm draped over the back of the booth, looking like he owns the place. "And before you ask—yes, I already told Marcel to put everything on my tab."
"You have a tab here?" I ask.
"It's called an IOU and a smile," Toby corrects, appearing with a tray of drinks. "Marcel tolerates him because he fixed the espresso machine once."
"Fixed is a strong word," Jionni admits. "I hit it. It started working."
Toby distributes the drinks efficiently—coffee for Braiden, something iced for Wes, a complicated-looking espresso thing for Sam. He slides a black coffee in front of me. "Congratulations. Both of you. That took real courage."
Sam takes a sip of his drink and makes a happy sound. "God, I needed this."
"You needed sleep," I point out.
"I'll sleep when I'm dead. Or after the internship. Whichever comes first."
The table dissolves into laughter and conversation. I sit back and watch, something warm expanding in my chest.
A month ago, I didn't have this. I had classes and competition and a silent, obsessive longing for the boy in the yellow hoodie. I had colleagues, not friends. I had goals, not a life.
Now I have... everything.
Wes is telling a story about his latest game, gesturing so enthusiastically he nearly takes out Braiden's drink.
Braiden is leaning into him, laughing, totally unafraid of the giant alpha who used to intimidate the entire campus.
They fit together, the golden quarterback and the anxious genius. It shouldn't work, but it does.
Jionni is arguing with Toby about something—music, maybe, or whose turn it is to do laundry. But his hand is on Toby's knee under the table, and Toby is fighting a smile. The rebel and the rule-follower. Chaos and order. Another impossible match that somehow makes perfect sense.
And Sam. Sam is in the middle of it all, talking with his hands, stealing sips of everyone else's drinks, making Braiden snort coffee out his nose with some terrible pun. He's bright and loud and alive, and he's mine.
He catches me watching and raises an eyebrow. You okay?
I nod slightly. Better than okay.
He grins and turns back to the conversation, but his hand finds mine under the table.
"So what's the plan?" Wes asks, leaning forward. "You two start the internship in June, right? Where are you gonna live?"
"We're going to look at apartments," Sam says. "Something close to the office. Devan wants a place with good light. I want a place with a bathtub."
"Priorities," Jionni snorts.
"Hey, after the semester we've had, I deserve a bathtub. With jets. And those little bath bomb things."
"You're high-maintenance," I tell him.
"You love it."
"I do."
The table makes a collective gagging sound, but it's fond.
"What about you guys?" Sam asks. "What's the summer plan?"
"Training camp," Wes says. "Got a callback from the Seahawks. We'll see what happens."
"Oh my god, Wes!" Sam nearly knocks over his drink. "That's huge! Why didn't you lead with that?"
Wes shrugs, but he's blushing just a bit. "Didn't want to steal your thunder."
"Dude. Seahawks. That's—Braiden, did you know about this?"
Braiden is beaming. "He found out yesterday. I'm going to defer med school a year," Braiden adds. "Go with him to Seattle. Figure out the long-distance thing if I have to, but..." He looks up at Wes with so much adoration it makes my chest hurt. "We'll make it work."
"Damn right we will," Wes says, dropping a kiss on Braiden's head.
"What about you two?" Sam asks Jionni and Toby.
Toby and Jionni exchange a look. Something passes between them, a whole conversation in a glance.
"I quit the RA position," Toby says.
The table goes quiet.
"Wait, seriously?" Sam leans forward. "Toby, that was your whole—"
"I know." Toby smiles, and it's different from his usual polished expression. Softer. Realer. "But I realized I was holding onto it because I was scared. Scared of losing the structure, the security. It was never actually what I wanted."
"What do you want?" I ask.
"Law school," Toby says. "I got into Columbia. Full ride."
"Holy shit," Sam breathes.
"And I'm going with him," Jionni adds. "Got a buddy in Brooklyn who needs a roommate. Gonna make music, do some tattoo work, annoy Toby while he studies."
"You're going to be very distracting," Toby says, but he's smiling.
"That's the plan."
I look around the table at these people—these friends, I realize, not just acquaintances—and I feel something I've never felt before.
Belonging.
"To us," Sam says, raising his cup. "To surviving freshman year, and RA drama, and academic rivals who turned out to be the love of our lives."
"To found family," Braiden adds.
"To not being idiots," Jionni says. "Well. To being slightly less idiotic than we could have been."
"To the future," Wes says. "Whatever it looks like."
We clink our cups together, a messy collision of coffee and iced drinks and whatever the hell Jionni is drinking.
"To the future," I echo.
Under the table, Sam's hand squeezes mine.
I squeeze back.
***
Later—much later—we're walking back to my dorm. The campus is quiet, the streetlights casting pools of gold on the sidewalk. Sam is tucked under my arm, warm against my side.
"Hey," he says softly.
"Hey."
"We're really doing this, aren't we? The internship. The apartment. The whole... life thing."
"Looks like it."
He's quiet for a moment. "Are you scared?"
I consider the question. Before, the answer would have been yes. I was scared of everything—of wanting too much, of feeling too deeply, of losing something I never even had.
"No," I say. "Not anymore."
"No?"
"I spent two years being scared." I stop walking, turning to face him. The streetlight catches his eyes, turning them to honey. "Scared to talk to you. Scared to want you. Scared that if I reached for something real, it would disappear."
I cup his face in my hands. He's so small compared to me—I could wrap around him twice—but he's never felt small. He's the biggest thing in my world.
"I'm done being scared," I tell him. "I want the life. The apartment. The arguments about whose turn it is to do dishes. I want all of it. With you."
Sam's eyes are bright. "That was disgustingly romantic."
"I know. It surprised me too."
He rises on his toes to kiss me. "Do it again sometime."
We stay there for a moment, breathing each other in.
"Come on," Sam finally says, tugging my hand. "Let's go home."
Home.
I follow him into the darkness, toward the light.
You made it! Thanks for reading Sam and Devan's story, and for sticking with the whole Westbridge crew!
When I started this series, I just wanted to write some spicy, swoony, instalove chaos.
I didn't expect to fall in love with these characters quite as hard as I did.
Writing this series has been such a joy, and I hope these characters found a little corner of your heart to live in. They've certainly taken over mine.
I've got some fun stuff in the works for the new year, and I'd love to have you along for the ride.
Thanks for being here.