End Game

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Aurora

My head is spinning. My heart thuds so hard it feels like it's echoing in my ribs as I pace the length of my dorm room, pretending calm I don't feel. I can still feel Nate—his touch, his weight pressing me into the wall of that dim, cramped restroom, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world he needed. God, I didn't know sex could be like that. Not just the thrill of sneaking away, but the intensity of it, the rawness, the way it consumed me. Nothing like William. Nothing like anything I've ever known.

Back at the table, we played it off—me slipping in from the bathroom, him settling into his chair like he'd just stretched his legs outside. He laughed with the others as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, I could barely breathe. Every brush of his hand against mine under the table, every time he leaned in to speak close to my ear, I felt it all over again—the heat, the pulse, the rush.

All I wanted was to drag him out of there, away from the noise and the crowd, back somewhere I could have him to myself. I couldn't stop picturing it: his hands on me, his mouth on mine, his low, teasing voice telling me to give in. My body was restless, humming, craving.

It struck me how different it had been with William. Everything polite, careful, expected. Vanilla. I'd convinced myself that was just how sex was. Until Nate. Until his hands found me, until his mouth set me on fire, until he made me come for the first time in my life. It was like he unlocked something I hadn't even realized I'd been starving for.

Now it feels like I can't put the fire out. Like I don't want to. And yet, here I am, pacing and waiting, wondering if he'll show. Wondering if he's still angry, still caught in that storm of questions about what I mean to him. Wondering if maybe I pushed him too far.

I hug myself, fingertips tracing the thin cotton of my white top, my gaze drifting to the window where the campus lights blur. All I can think about is him. About what I told him before I left—that if he wanted silk sheets instead of Velcro, he knew where to find me. I'd said it like a tease, but it had been more than that. It was a dare. An invitation. A plea.

My eyes keep darting to the door, every tick of silence stretching thinner, tighter. What if he doesn't come? What if this was just sex for him, and I'm the only one losing my mind over it? Still, the ache between my ribs and legs won't let me shake the hope: I need him here. I need him now.

A sudden knock breaks the quiet, sharp enough to make me jump. My heart leaps into my throat, pounding as I freeze mid-step. It could be anyone—but I know, deep down, who I'm praying it is - Nate.

I force a breath, trying to hide the smile already pulling at my lips, and cross the room. My hand trembles on the knob as I open the door—

—and my heart drops.

Daniel.

He fills the doorway, tall and broad, our auburn hair and freckles like mirror marks of bloodline. But he isn't grinning like he usually does, or reeking of weed, or buzzing from a party. He looks serious. Concerned. And the sight ties a knot so tight in my stomach I can barely breathe.

"Daniel?" My voice is small, startled. "What are you doing here?"

He stepped inside without waiting for me to invite him, scanning the room like he needed to take stock of where I'd been hiding. When his eyes finally landed on me, they carried something between worry and frustration—an older brother's mix of anger and protectiveness.

"I hopped on the next plane when I heard you broke up with William," he said flatly. "Mom and Dad are losing it. First, you skipped Thanksgiving. Then William filled them in on your little... rebellion. Sketchy friends. Blowing off tennis. Defying every plan they've ever had for you. And now, breaking up with William? What's going on, Aurora?"