Page 83 of The Backup

“Sloane. You aresosexy. It’s insane,” I murmur against her mouth, my hands sliding down to grip her hips.

“Thank you,” she replies, her voice breathy as she presses closer. “I like getting a little dressed up for you.”

The rest of the night passes in a blur of heat and desperation, every touch, every sound, every movement leaving me more addicted to her than I already was.

When I wake up the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the blinds, the bed beside me is empty.

For a moment, panic flares in my chest, but then I see it—a note on the pillow.

Asher,

Had to head back before anyone noticed I was gone.

Thanks for last night. You’re…amazing.

– S

I smile, running a hand through my hair as I read it again.

Yeah, I’m in way deeper than I should be.

And I don’t care one bit.

But as the warmth of her words settles over me, something else stirs—a pull, a quiet yearning I can’t ignore. I want more with her. Not just the sneaking around, the stolen moments, or the thrill of keeping it a secret. I want all of it. I want her walking into my room without hesitation, sitting with me at lunch, coming to my games because she wants to, not because we’ve worked out some elaborate plan to avoid suspicion.

The thought catches me off guard, and for a second, it feels too big, too fast.

I exhale slowly, leaning back against the pillow as I remind myself to take it slow. Sloane’s different—special. The last thing I want is to scare her off or make her feel like this isn’t still on her terms.

So I’ll wait. I’ll let her set the pace, keep things “drama-free,” as she likes to call it.

But deep down, I already know the truth.

This isn’t just a fling anymore. Not for me.

twenty-five

. . .

Sloane

The next fewweeks blur into a whirlwind of late-night texts, stolen moments, and a secret that makes my heart race every time I see him.

We’re a mess of contradictions—careful and reckless, calculated and impulsive. Every time I think we’ve pushed our luck too far, he grins and pulls me into another kiss, and suddenly, it doesn’t feel risky at all. It feels right.

We’ve turned sneaking around into an art form. His dorm room, my apartment, the back corner of the library, even the empty theater classroom on campus one particularly bold afternoon—it’s ridiculous how much fun it is.

And it’s not just the thrill of not getting caught. It’s the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. The way he teases me until I can’t stop laughing. The way he makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world who matters.

It’s a quiet Sunday night when we end up in our usual spot at the library, tucked into a corner table surrounded by toweringshelves of books. My laptop is open, spreadsheets and flashcards cluttering the screen as I try to focus on preparing for the MCAT next week.

Asher sits across from me, his glasses perched on his nose as he pretends to read, but I know better. His foot nudges mine under the table, and when I glance up, he’s smirking.

“You’re distracting me,” I mutter, looking back at my screen.

“That’s my job,” he says, his tone light. But then his smile fades slightly as he tilts his head. “How’s it going? You ready for the test?”

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “I don’t know. I think so. I hope so. It’s just…a lot.”

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