Page 59 of No Save Point

Cassie:IF YOU WERE TO FUCK THEM BOTH

I slap my hand over my mouth, choking on air.

Carter looks up immediately, brows furrowing. “You good?”

“Yep.” I clear my throat, forcing my expression into something neutral. “Totally fine.”

Carter narrows his eyes, like he doesn’t quite believe me, but instead of pushing, he exhales and leans back in his chair. “What do you want for dinner?”

The question pulls me back to reality, grounding me in the fact that I am still here, in his house, trying to ignore the fact that my best friend is actively losing her mind over my entire existence.

I shove my phone back into my lap, pretending I didn’t just read what I did. “I don’t know. What are my options?”

Carter smirks slightly. “Anything but diner food.”

“Fair.”

Carter’s watching me, waiting for an answer about dinner, but I don’t want to talk about food. I want to remind him why he wants me here.

Why he’s looking at me like that. Why he’s fallen for me in the first place. So I don’t say anything. I just grab his hoodie, pull him toward me, and press my lips against his. He lets out a quiet sound, somewhere between surprise and need but he doesn’t hesitate.

His hands are on me instantly, gripping my waist, sliding up my back, holding me against him like I might disappear if he doesn’t. I kiss him slowly, deeply, pouring every ounce of certainty I have into it. Because I might not have all the answers about what we are or where this is going.

But I know this. I know him. I shift slightly, fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, feeling the way he melts under my touch. And then a sound from down the hall. Loud and definitely aggravated.

“CHAT, SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

I freeze, lips still against Carter’s, before breaking into laughter against his mouth.

Carter groans, dropping his forehead to my shoulder. “I fucking hate him.”

I just grin, tilting his chin back up, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “No, you don’t.”

Carter doesn’t let me go right away. Even after Tate’s ridiculous outburst from down the hall, even after my laughter fades into the quiet hum of the room, even after I pull back just enough to see his face. He just stays there, holding me, looking at me like he’s memorizing something, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he lets me go. And then he kisses me again. Slower this time. Softer. Like he’s saying everything he doesn’t know how to put into words.

I melt into it, letting my fingers tangle in his hair, taking my time, drawing it out, savoring every second. Because God, I like kissing him. I could do this all night.

My stomach on the other hand has plans. A quiet grumble breaks through the moment, and Carter pulls back just enough to smirk. “Guess that means we should figure out dinner, huh?”

I groan, burying my face against his shoulder. He chuckles, pressing one last kiss to my temple before pulling away completely. “Come on, let’s go downstairs. We’ll find something.”

Turns out, Carter can cook. Like, actually cook. I watch in mild shock as he moves through the kitchen like he’s done this a thousand times before, grabbing ingredients, chopping vegetables, searing chicken in a pan with an ease that almost feels unfair. “You didn’t tell me you were secretly a chef.”

He snorts. “I’m not. I just grew up cooking because someone had to.”

I tilt my head. “And Tate didn’t pull his weight?”

“Tate burns cereal.”

“Why am I not surprised.”

A voice cuts in from the doorway. “I heard that, fucker.”

I turn to see Tate strolling into the kitchen, looking mildly offended, like he just woke up from a nap he definitely didn’t take.

He eyes the pan Carter’s working over, nodding slightly. “What are we making?”

Carter gives him a look. “We?”

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