Tangled Hearts.

~Chapter 31~

~Raelyn~

~Saturday March 29th~

If someone told me that the "trap house"—which is just a bougie, chaotic, co-ed hurricane of a mansion—would feel more like home than my actual house, I probably would've laughed. And then cried. And then stolen Colby's sweats and moved in anyway.

Because for the last forty-eight hours, Isa and I had basically set up camp here. At this point, the couch had molded to Isa's body, and I was fairly sure Colby's sweats had permanently fused to my legs. No regrets.

We were all exhausted in the best, most delirious way. Like, "laughing at a microwave for ten minutes because it beeped funny" kind of tired. The kind of tired that makes you question if sleep is even real or if you're just hallucinating your friendships at this point.

Isa was passed out in the corner of the L-shaped couch, curled up like a little burrito, snoring softly into a pillow she'd stolen from Devyn.

Meanwhile, I was being violently smothered by a 6'3" man-child.

"I don't wanna get up," Colby whined into my chest, dragging out the last syllable like a toddler refusing to leave Disneyland. His voice was high-pitched, muffled by the hoodie I was wearing—his hoodie, mind you—and he was actively nuzzling me like a needy golden retriever who just discovered cuddles.

"Colby," I groaned, wriggling slightly, "you're crushing my ribcage."

"Shhh." He tightened his grip around my waist. "I'm absorbing your soul. Just let it happen."

"Colby—"

"I need this," he whined dramatically, kissing my neck like a vampire on melatonin. "You're warm. You smell like laundry and safety. I'm never moving again."

I blinked at the ceiling. "You're literally a weighted blanket with boundary issues."

"I love you."

"Get off."

"I will die here," he whispered, voice still in that ridiculous baby tone. "Right here. On your boobs."

From across the room, Sam's groggy voice cut through the peace. "Can y'all stop being so fucking horny? Some of us are trying to sleep without nightmares."

Corey groaned from his beanbag throne. "Too late. I already need therapy."

Colby flipped them both off without lifting his head.

This was our version of serenity. At least until we all remembered we had a full day of chaos planned because Isa was flying back to London tomorrow and we had **exactly one day** left to cause maximum trouble.

And so, fueled by caffeine, sheer willpower, and the kind of friendship that only comes with shared trauma and too many inside jokes, we started our day with a Target run.

~

Tara, naturally, took command of the cart. "Nobody touch the steering. I'm the captain now."

"Last time you crashed into a display of toilet paper and took down a toddler," Devyn said flatly.

"That kid was fine!" Tara protested, shoving a bag of flaming hot Cheetos into the cart. "He bounced."

"I'm getting the pool floats," Jake declared, already speed-walking toward the summer aisle like it was Black Friday. "We're doing cannonballs when we get home!"

Colby laced his fingers with mine. "You need anything, Rae?"

I was mid-eyeing a pack of neon-colored socks shaped like avocados. "I think I'm good."