Chapter 3 — Lena #3
Mason pointed between them. “Are you two co-managing now?”
Lena gave him a look that could curdle milk.
Mason nodded. “Great. Love the structure.”
Carter didn’t disappear. He didn’t slack. He didn’t turn every task into a joke, though he did make enough comments to keep Lena from combusting under the pressure.
Talked Tank through the children’s booth like it was a tactical mission.
Coaxed Jonah into doing donor greeting because “quiet sincerity plays well with adults.”
Confiscated glitter from Mason twice.
And every time he passed Lena, something happened.
A finger grazing her lower back as he moved behind her.
A whispered “you good?” when Denise asked for another change.
Mostly.
The banner was still technically wrong underneath the balloon arch, but no one without a ladder and malicious intent would know.
The kids’ booth looked inviting.
The raffle tables looked polished.
The donor signs looked professional.
And Lena was so tired she considered lying facedown on the stage floor and letting the Helmuts claim her.
Denise clapped her hands. “Excellent work, everyone. Be back here tomorrow by four for final prep. Doors open at six.”
The hockey team cheered like they had survived war.
Mason collapsed dramatically over a chair.
Tank whispered, “No bites,” like a man grateful for a miracle.
Lena packed her laptop slowly, delaying the moment she would have to figure out how to say goodbye to Carter.
Before he had looked at her like she was something worth being careful with.
Before her body had decided his hoodie was now a place her hands belonged.
“Brooks.”
She turned.
Carter stood beside the check-in table, hands in his hoodie pocket, hair a mess, expression softer than she knew what to do with.
“Walk you out?”
Not out loud.
Probably.
“I drove,” she said.
“So did I.”
“That makes walking me out unnecessary.”
“Most good things are unnecessary.”
That was unfairly charming.
“You should put that in the speech,” she said.
“Only if I want Denise to tackle me.”
Just Carter.
She should have said no.
She said, “Okay.”
The campus was quieter now, washed in gold lamplight and June warmth. The student center doors shut behind them, muffling the team noise.
For the first time all evening, there was no fundraiser around them.
No Denise.
No glitter.
No clipboard between them.
Just Lena and Carter, walking side by side along the brick path toward the parking lot.
Almost.
The almost felt louder than everything else.
Carter glanced at her. “You’re quiet.”
“So are you.”
“I’m trying this new thing where I don’t ruin moments by talking.”
“How’s it going?”
“Painfully.”
She looked at him.
Carter’s smile was small and nervous around the edges.
“I can stop,” he said.
She tightened her fingers around his.
“Don’t.”
The campus lights caught the bruise along his cheekbone, the cut near his mouth, the softness he tried to hide.
They reached her car too quickly.
Lena stopped beside the driver’s door.
Carter stopped with her but did not let go of her hand.
For a few seconds, they stood there in the parking lot like two people who had accidentally reached the edge of something and were deciding whether to step over.
“Tomorrow’s going to be chaotic,” Lena said.
“Definitely.”
“You can’t distract me.”
“I can try not to.”
“Carter.”
“I will try very hard not to.”
“That sounds more honest.”
Her back brushed the car door.
His thumb moved over her knuckles.
“There’s that word again,” he said.
“Honest?”
“Yeah.”
“Still allergic?”
“Less than before.”
The space between them warmed.
Lena looked toward the student center doors.
No one was coming out.
When she looked back, Carter was watching her mouth.
Always.
Her pulse kicked.
“We’re in public,” she whispered.
“Barely.”
“That is not a category.”
“It is at Ridgeview.”
Lena lifted her free hand and touched the front of his hoodie.
Carter’s breath changed.
“You’re doing that on purpose now,” he said.
“Maybe.”
His eyes darkened. “Lena.”
“I like when you say my name.”
The confession slipped out before she could stop it.
Carter went completely still.
Then his hand came up, fingers brushing lightly along her jaw.
“Yeah?” he asked.
His thumb traced once near the corner of her mouth.
“Good,” he said. “Because I keep thinking it.”
Lena leaned into him, and Carter made a quiet sound deep in his chest, like she had undone him with the smallest thing.
His fingers tightened in her hair.
The heat came back fast, bright and reckless under the softness.
Carter broke away first, breathing hard.
His forehead rested against hers.
“If we keep doing that,” he said, voice rough, “I’m going to forget my new thing about not ruining moments by talking.”
When he pulled back, his eyes stayed on hers.
“Text me when you get home?” he asked.
Her chest tightened.
“You really are trying to be decent.”
“I told you. Painful.”
She smiled.
“I’ll text you.”
Neither did she.
Finally, Lena slid her hand from his hoodie and reached for her car door.
Carter stepped back.
She got into the car, started it, and looked through the windshield.
He was still standing there, hands in his hoodie pocket now, watching her like he wanted to stay but knew better than to ask.
Lena pulled out of the parking space.
Carter: For the record, I am excellent at balloon arches, speeches, and not getting murdered by clipboards.
Carter: Still thinking about your mouth though. Growth is complicated.
Lena laughed out loud alone in her car.
Then she typed back before she could overthink it.
Lena: Focus on the fundraiser, Hayes.
His reply came almost instantly.
Carter: I am. You’re the riskiest part.
Lena stared at the screen until the car behind her honked.
She drove home smiling like an idiot.
And that, more than the kisses, more than his hand in hers, more than the way he had looked at her under the parking lot lights, was how she knew she was in trouble.
Because Lena Brooks did not do reckless.
She organized.
She calculated.
But tomorrow night, she would stand beside Carter Hayes in front of the whole fundraiser, deliver a speech they had written together, manage a room full of donors and hockey players and children with sticky hands…