46. Alana
ALANA
Ididn’t know how to breathe.
Not really. Not after that.
Eden had given me a lap dance in front of half the damn party. And he’d done it like he meant every second—like every roll of his hips, every teasing brush of his hands, was just for me.
And maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t.
But either way, I was dead.
We didn’t talk on the drive back to my place. The silence between us was thick, and I couldn’t figure out if it was the good or the bad kind.
When we got inside, I dropped my keys in the bowl by the door, kicked off my shoes, and turned to him with a forced smile. “Do you want water? Tea? Something stronger?”
I just had to say something—anything.
“I’m good,” Eden said, stepping inside like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome here or not, which was insane considering we’d been doing this thing for months and had spent enough time in each other’s personal space that it should’ve felt normal by now.
But tonight… nothing felt normal.
We both settled onto the couch, a careful space between us like neither of us knew how to bridge it anymore. My skin was still buzzing where he’d touched me. My brain was stuck on a loop of the way he’d moved, the weight of him in my lap, his breath against my ear.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, breaking the silence.
I nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He watched me for a long moment, then said, “You looked uncomfortable tonight. When Austin dared you to give him a lap dance.”
I glanced at him, heart thudding. “Because I was uncomfortable.”
“I don’t get it.” He leaned back slightly, stretching one arm along the back of the couch. “Wasn’t that the whole point? Getting Austin to want you? To chase you?”
The lie came to my lips before I could stop it. “I didn’t think he’d actually ask me to do something like that in front of everyone. I—I got self-conscious, okay? It felt like I was about to make a complete idiot of myself in front of a room full of college students.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. Not entirely.
I was insecure. Still learning how to feel okay in my own skin, still unlearning every shitty voice telling me I was too fat, too average, too nothing. But if Eden had asked me? If he had been the one sitting there, smirking, waiting, wanting?
I would’ve danced for him in front of the whole damn school.
“I get that,” he said eventually. “But it’s weird. You’ve been fearless lately. Confident. I didn’t think that would rattle you.”
“It was different,” I lied. “Austin makes me feel… weird. Off-balance. Not in a good way.”
Eden was quiet again.
I couldn’t look at him.
Because if I did, he’d see everything I was trying to hide. He’d gotten pretty good at reading me.
“Was it just the audience?” he asked, voice softer now. “Or was it because it was him?”
My breath caught.
Keep lying.
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Maybe both.”
I felt the couch dip beside me. His arm lowered from the backrest, and I felt his hand graze mine. My fingers curled instinctively, but I didn’t pull away.
“Because you didn’t seem uncomfortable when I did it,” he said.
My eyes flicked up to his.
There it was again… that unreadable expression. That quiet, controlled storm he kept locked behind his gaze. But tonight, I could feel it cracking at the edges.
Fuck.
“You didn’t make me feel like a joke,” I whispered.
He didn’t move.
“And maybe,” I added before I could stop myself, “you’re the only one I’d ever actually want to do that for.”
His breath hitched.
I felt it more than I heard it.
Then he leaned in, slow like he was giving me every chance to stop him. “Alana…”
I didn’t stop him.
He kissed me—soft at first, just a brush of lips, like he was testing the water. It was pointless anyway, because Eden knew he could kiss me. He knew I liked it. He knew I wanted it.
I leaned into it immediately.
And everything exploded.
His hands cupped my face, my fingers curled into the front of his shirt, and all the heat, all the tension that had been building between us finally spilled over. The kiss deepened, grew messy, needy, breathless.
I didn’t care if it was fake anymore.
Because this was real.
When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing hard. He kept his forehead against mine.
“I thought we were pretending,” I whispered.
“So did I.”
But neither of us moved.
Neither of us ran.
We just sat there, tangled up on the couch, and pretended we weren’t both completely screwed. At least until I finally moved.