Page 80 of Seven Lost Summers
Heat curls low in my gut as I watch them, my body betraying me with every second I keep staring. Because fuck. I want them both.
Bianca used to whisper things about the three of them. She’d lean in close, voice low, teasing. I’d roll my eyes and pretend I didn’t care, but I wanted to know.
I wanted to ask her how it started. What they did. What it was like. How good the boys were at it.
But I never asked. I didn’t want to pry.
Still, I used to think about Nate.
About those hands. I caught the stories back in school, the whispers from girls who swore he could pull an orgasm from them without even trying. A single look, a touch, a few filthy words in the right tone and they were done.
And Theo.
I wondered about him too. If the boy who once hid under a hoodie came alive in the dark. If he knew how to take his time. If he could wreck someone with nothing more than his mouth and a grin.
I knew I wasn’t supposed to think about them that way. They were Bianca’s boys.
But fuck—I was jealous.
I still am.
Not only for the way they made her ache. Though that alone was enough to burn itself into my memory and stay there. It was more than that. I envied the way they looked at her, the way they reached for her, gave her their time, their focus, their everything. She got to be the center of that storm, caught between them, while I stood on the sidelines and watched. Always the best friend. Always looking in.
Back in those days, I told myself it didn’t matter. That I wasn’t into Nate.
But the truth is, I liked the energy that simmered between us—the teasing, the smirks, the way he always had something cocky to throw my way so I could shoot him down. It meant something, even if I pretended it didn’t.
But once Bianca came into the picture, everything shifted. Nate stopped with the flirting. Pulled back, shut it down. And I missed it. I missed Theo too. Missed the easy rhythm between us, the way we’d talk for hours about nothing, how he’d always say something dumb simply to make me laugh.
She was my best friend. I kept telling myself I was fine, that having them in my life was enough. I was happy being near them. Being part of their orbit. Even if I wanted more. And hated myself for it.
But seeing them now…
Nate’s watching the phone, head tilted, that smirk tugging at his mouth, the one that always got under my skin.
Theo has that same wicked spark he always carried, but now it’s carved deeper. More dangerous. He doesn’t fidget or glance around the way he used to. He stands steady, sure of himself.
Nate lifts his head first. His sharp blue eyes catch mine, and that lazy, confident smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. It’s pure sin, slow and full of promise, the kind of smile that unravels common sense and replaces it with heat.
My stomach clenches, and I shift my weight to hide the way my thighs tighten. He doesn’t need words to make me feel it. That mouth alone could wreck me.
I grip the handle of my suitcase harder, forcing myself to stay grounded.
That’s when Theo moves.
He slides his phone into his pocket, eyes locked on me, a wicked grin spreading across his face. His tattooed arms flex as he steps forward, broad shoulders rolling with a confidence that steals the breath from my lungs.
I should walk over, say something, close the space between us. But my feet stay planted. My heart pounds, each beat louder than the last. Every part of me betrays the logic I carried in here, heat crawling through me from the inside out.
Because it’s them. And my body remembers.
Heat rolls low, straight to my pussy, a slow, relentless throb that makes my legs seem less like limbs and more like caution signs. I should say something. Do something. Move. For fuck’s sake, blink at least. But no. I only grip the handle of my suitcase harder, heart pounding like it’s trying to stage an escape, fully aware I’m in way over my fucking head.
Nate steps up first, closing the distance with zero effort, as if he hasn’t already turned my brain into a puddle with one cocky glance.
“Hey, Q,” he says, voice smooth and familiar.
And suddenly… fuck, he hugs me.
