Page 87 of Freestyle
He doesn’t ask if I’m nervous, doesn’t ask if I want him to wait outside the building like some subtle, silent guard dog.
He just stops on the sidewalk outside my lecture hall, hand still in mine, eyes gentle in a way I’m still not used to.
I shift, suddenly aware of all the students passing by, of all the stares I need to ignore, of the tension that used to sit on my chest every time I stepped foot here alone.
But with Gray next to me, it’s quieter inside.
“Alright,” I murmur, trying to sound casual. “This is me.”
He nods once, then steps a little closer.
Just when I think he might say something clipped and pragmatic liketext me when it’s over or don’t talk to strangers, he leans in and kisses my forehead.
Soft.
Deliberate.
His hand lingers at my waist as he pulls back, and something in my chest curls up and sighs.
“I’ll be back after class,” he says quietly. “You won’t walk out alone.”
I don’t respond, I can’t. Not with the heat crawling up my neck and the sudden urge to kiss him back.
So I nod, and walk inside.
Still tasting safety on my skin.
Twenty One
Phoenix
“Hey,waitup,man!”Remy calls from behind me as I’m leaving my last lecture. He’s always off with Fallon, so it’s been a while since I’ve caught up with him. I slow down just enough to let him catch up.
My body pauses but my mind doesn’t stop scanning, checking the quad, the windows, my watch.
He falls in step like we haven’t been strangers in our own house all weekend. “So,” he says, keeping his voice low but his smirk high, “you and Gray pulled a first.”
I raise a brow, but I don’t engage.
Henudges my elbow. “C’mon, man. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.Rowyn. She stayed all weekend. You two never double back, and now she’s here? Every morning? Inyourhoodie, no less?”
I exhale slowly. “She’s not a conquest.”
Remy blinks at that. The smile falters, cracks just a little. “Didn’t say she was. I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I’ve known you guys for a long time. You don’t keep them around.”
I look at him then. Really look.
Remy still thinks this is about a pattern. About rules we made up sophomore year, back when feelings were optional and the world was simple. He hasn’t seen what we have. Hasn’t heard her voice crack in the dark, hasn’t watched her flinch when the silence stretches too long.
“This is different,” I say finally. Not a defense. A confession.
His eyes narrow. “You like her.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Iprotecther.” I keep my tone steady, even. “Because someone out there still thinks he can get to her. And until that stops, we’re not leaving her side.”
Remy frowns. It’s the first sign he’s actually listening, not just poking for gossip.
“Something happen?”
