Page 55 of Rival Summer

"On what?" I asked, watching as she typed something on her phone.

"You rooming with Boston," she whispered, flashing her phone screen at me. "Just sent Bailey a text. He's rooming with me now."

I blinked at her. "Willow, is Bailey going to think... you know, that you want to hook up?"

She snorted, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, trust me, absolutely not. Bailey's harmless. I can handle him."

Before I could protest, Bailey interrupted us, sliding a card into my hand with a sly wink. "I'm not gonna ask, and I know nothing," he muttered under his breath, a grin teasing at his lips.

"So babydoll, am I getting lucky tonight?" he joked, nudging Willow with his elbow.

Willow rolled her eyes dramatically. "If by 'lucky' you mean sleeping on the couch and as far away from me as possible, then absolutely," she retorted, her tone dripping with sweetness.

Bailey narrowed his eyes. "Wait, you won the suite? Why do I have to sleep on the couch?"

"Bailey, don't you know anything about women? The minute I open my suitcase, one bed will be buried under a mountain of clothes!" Willow retorted.

"Ah man, how did I sign up for this?" Bailey groaned, but laughter quickly followed.

I hesitated outside Boston’s door, clutching the swapped key card. Instead of swiping it, I knocked, heart pounding. The door swung open to reveal his blue eyes lighting up with surprise.

"Willow and Bailey are playing matchmaker," I blurted out as he leaned against the doorway. "Bailey switched our cards."

Boston's eyebrows shot up, and for a split second, doubt clouded his features. "And you’re okay with that?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, a lopsided grin forming on his lips.

With a small shrug, I said, "I can make him switch me back if?—"

"Are you kidding me?" Boston cut me off. "You're the only person I want to room with. If you’re okay with it, then get in here, girl."

Relief washed over me, and I pushed the cart into the room, my cheeks flushed with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

As I looked around the hotel room, I paused in surprise. "Oh, I thought this was supposed to be a double room," I said.

"Yeah, the couch pulls out into a bed." Boston shifted his head toward the couch.

I started unpacking as Boston retrieved his bags, my gaze fell upon the dreaded uniform bag—the one that held more than just sports gear. Willow’s crazy idea suddenly felt like a ticking time bomb.

"Damn zipper always sticks," Boston said, totally unaware of my inner turmoil as he tugged at the bag.

"Let me help you with—" I started, but it was too late.

The bag ripped open and my lace underwear slipped out, fluttering to the floor.

I froze, mouth wide open, unable to form words or move. My brain screamed at me to do something—anything—but my body refused to cooperate. It may have been the most humiliating moment of my life. Universe- 3, Me- 0.

Boston paused, looking from the delicate fabric on the floor then back to me, a confused expression spreading across his face. There was a silent moment where we were both frozen in place, unable to move.

"Uh, Chandler..." he began, a hint of red creeping up his neck.

"Um." The only word I could force out, the only word my brain would allow me to form.

Boston's voice cracked with a mix of horror and confusion as his piercing blue eyes met mine, "I know that looks bad but I promise I have no idea whose those are. I haven't been with anyone this summer."

His words spilled out in a rush, a desperate attempt to clear the misunderstanding before it bloomed into something worse. There was an earnestness in his gaze, a vulnerability that I rarely saw in the confident athlete who lived next door.

For a moment, I tried to maintain my facial expressions, to keep up the pretense that this was all some terrible mistake. But as I watched him stand there, so genuinely distressed over my panties on the floor, my seriousness crumbled. I couldn't hold back the amusement tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"Okay, I have a confession," I said, the words tumbling from my lips as I sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to gather the courage that seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind.

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