Page 204 of Well That Happened

I wake slowly, surrounded by warmth and the steady rhythm of three different breathing patterns. There’s an arm heavy across my waist—Hunter’s, I know from the way his fingers splay possessively even in sleep. Another hand rests on my hip—Caleb’s, because of course he manages to be handsy even while unconscious. Behind me, Grayson’s chest rises and falls against my back, his breath tickling my neck.

We made it through the night.

In a too-small bed. In Hunter’s parents’ house. Without getting caught.

I take a moment to just exist in this—the impossible comfort of being held by all three of them, the morning light filtering through lace curtains, the distant sounds of someone moving around downstairs.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Hunter mumbles against my hair, not opening his eyes.

“Sorry,” I whisper back.

His arm tightens around me. “Don’t apologize. Just means you’re awake.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Mm.” He presses a sleepy kiss to my forehead. “Proud of you.”

That catches me off guard. “For what?”

“Surviving dinner. My grandmother. This bed situation.” His thumb strokes my ribs absently. “You’re incredible.”

Behind me, Grayson stirs, pressing closer. “She is,” he agrees, voice rough with sleep. “Handled everything perfectly.”

“Like a champ,” Caleb adds, because apparently everyone’s awake now. He stretches, somehow managing to take up even more space. “Though I still think we should’ve taken your grandma up on the logistics conversation she wanted.”

“We are never discussing my grandmother and logistics in the same sentence again,” Hunter says firmly.

“Nobody move,” I whisper.

“No one’s going to just barge in,” Caleb says against my neck. “Your grandma literally winked at us.”

“She did not—”

“She absolutely did,” Grayson confirms from somewhere near my hip. “Right after she mentioned the ‘reinforced bed frame’ in Hunter’s room.”

Hunter groans into his pillow. “I’m never going to emotionally recover from this.”

We’re still tangled in the too-small bed, my heart racing at the idea of getting caught. The morning light makes everything feel surreal—like we’re living in some alternate universe where Hunter’s grandmother is our biggest ally.

“We should get up,” I say, making no move to actually do so.

“Or,” Caleb suggests, his hand sliding under the hem of my sleep shirt, “we could stay right here.”

“Caleb,” I warn, but it comes out breathier than intended.

“What? They already know. Cat’s out of the bag. Or should I say… cats? Plural?”

Hunter lifts his head to glare at him. “Did you just make a poly joke?”

“I’m processing through humor.”

Grayson’s thumb traces circles on my hip, slow and deliberate. “The door locks,” he points out quietly.

We all turn to look at him.

“Just saying,” he adds with a shrug.

“That’s…” I start to protest, but Caleb’s mouth is already on my neck, and my thoughts scatter. “We can’t. Your parents—”

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