Chapter 6 — Carter #2
Carter shook his head. “You make me feel like the version of myself everyone jokes about isn’t enough. Not in a bad way. Just…” He exhaled. “You make me want to stop performing. And I don’t totally know who I am when I do.”
The confession emptied him out.
The stairwell went quiet.
Lena stepped down one stair.
Not touching.
Her gaze moved over his face.
“You’re Carter,” she said softly.
His throat tightened.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is to me.”
Devastating.
“You don’t have to become someone else,” she said. “You just have to stop running from the parts of you that are already good.”
Carter could not speak.
Lena leaned into him with a soft sigh that went straight through him.
Slowly.
Then all at once.
Because Lena’s fingers curled in his shirt, and Carter’s restraint snapped thin.
Which was unfair.
He pulled back just enough to breathe. “You like that too much.”
Her eyes opened, bright and heated. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Liar.”
“Still your favorite word.”
“Still your favorite crime.”
A junior in a Ridgeview sweatshirt stepped into the stairwell, froze when he saw them, then immediately looked at the floor.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, hurrying up the stairs past them.
Carter cleared his throat.
Lena stared at the wall.
The student disappeared through the upper door.
Silence returned.
Then Carter said, “We may need to stop using university infrastructure for this.”
The sound bounced off the stairwell walls, and Carter grinned because he had earned that one.
She covered her face with one hand. “This is ridiculous.”
She dropped her hand and glared.
He held up both hands. “Emotionally sincere but also hot.”
“That clarification did not help.”
Carter stepped closer again, but did not kiss her.
“I meant what I said,” he told her.
Not rushed.
Just fingers sliding through his in the gray stairwell, simple and terrifying.
“I want to try too,” she said.
His smile came slowly, then all at once.
Lena pointed at him with her free hand. “Do not look smug.”
But it was true.
Lena’s face softened in a way that made him ache.
“Me too,” she said.
Quiet.
Enough.
Carter looked at their joined hands.
Then back at her.
“So what does trying mean?” he asked.
She smiled. “It means we don’t hide behind jokes.”
He made a face.
“Too soon?” she asked.
“Emotionally ambitious.”
“It means we’re honest.”
“Also rude.”
“And it means we don’t let Mason name anything.”
“Finally, a boundary I can support.”
Then squeezed his hand once.
“It also means we take this slow enough not to ruin it,” she said.
Her eyes flicked to his mouth.
His brows lifted.
She sighed. “Mostly slow.”
“There she is.”
“Don’t.”
“The girl who creates loopholes.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I’m leaving.”
He held her hand gently. “With me?”
That word did something to him.
A simple yes.
But after years of being wanted for the easy parts, the fun parts, the public parts, Carter suddenly realized how different it felt to be chosen carefully.
Because some things deserved a little privacy before the entire hockey team turned them into a group project.
Lena packed her laptop and notebook into her bag. Carter picked up her coffee and the half-eaten muffin.
“Are you stealing my muffin?” she asked.
“I bought the muffin.”
“For me.”
“And now I’m quality-testing it.”
She snatched it back. “Absolutely not.”
As they left the library, her shoulder bumped his.
On purpose.
Carter looked down at her.
By the time Carter got back to the locker room later that afternoon to grab his forgotten practice shoes, Mason was sitting on the bench with a protein bar in one hand and Carter’s entire future in his eyes.
“No,” Carter said immediately.
Mason grinned. “You held hands in the library.”
“How do you even know that?”
“Ridgeview is a small ecosystem.”
“It’s a campus.”
“It’s a swamp of gossip with tuition.”
Carter opened his locker. “We’re not talking about this.”
“Oh, we are absolutely talking about this.”
“No.”
“Did you define the relationship?”
Carter slammed his locker shut. “Do not say define the relationship like you’re hosting a podcast.”
“Trying,” he repeated.
Carter braced himself.
Mason nodded slowly. “That’s good.”
Carter narrowed his eyes. “That’s it?”
“What, you want balloons?”
“No.”
“I have access to some.”
Mason grinned, then sobered again. “I mean it. Trying is good for you.”
Carter looked away.
Mason stood and tossed his protein bar wrapper into the trash. “Just don’t get weird and panic because she actually sees you.”
Carter turned. “Why is everyone saying correct things at me this week?”
“Because you’re finally listening.”
Probably true.
Still annoying.
Carter grabbed his shoes.
Mason leaned against the lockers. “Also, if you two become official, I call speech rights.”
“No.”
“At the wedding?”
“Jesus, Mason.”
“What? Long-term vision.”
“We have been trying for four hours.”
“And already iconic.”
Lena: I just found glitter in my tote bag.
Carter smiled.
Carter: Mason’s legacy lives on.
Lena: I’m billing him for emotional damages.
Carter: Put me down as a witness.
Paused.
Then:
Lena: Thank you for the stairwell honesty.
Carter’s throat tightened.
Mason, unfortunately, saw his face.
“Oh boy,” Mason whispered.
Carter ignored him and typed back.
Carter: Thank you for not running.
Her reply came a moment later.
Lena: I thought about it.
He laughed softly.
Carter: Same.
Lena: Glad we didn’t.
Carter stared at the screen.
Then he typed the truest thing he could.
Carter: Me too.
Mason leaned over his shoulder.
Carter shoved him back by the face.
“Privacy,” Carter said.
Mason stumbled, laughing. “Fine, fine. But tell Clipboard I’m sorry about the glitter.”
Carter: Mason says he’s sorry about the glitter. I don’t believe him.
Lena: He shouldn’t. I’m making him a cleanup checklist.
Carter: That might be his love language.
Lena: Yours is apparently muffins and emotional damage.
Carter grinned.
Carter: Only for you, Brooks.