Christ, she was beautiful. Not just beautiful in the obvious, head-turning way, but in a way that made you believe an artist would be envious for never having captured something like her on canvas.

I hated her for it. Hated that every time I tried to look away, my gaze always found its way back to her. I hated that she was looking at me like I was something to be adored. I hated that I wanted to be. I hated that I wanted this so badly, wanted her so badly, that I felt like I was bleeding from the inside out.

“Blake,” she whispered again, softer this time.

I shuddered. “Don’t say it like that.”

Her brows pulled together. “Like what?”

“Like you know what you’re doing to me.”

Her lips twitched. “I do know.”

“You don’t,” I said, my voice low, barely more than a breath. “You have no idea.”

Her fingers dug into my arms. “Then show me.”

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. “B.”

“Show me, Blake.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting a battle I was dangerously close to losing. Every part of me wanted to give in to the urge building in my chest, but I needed to take it slow. “I don’t know what to do with this,” I whispered, the words slipping out like a secret I wasn’t ready to share but couldn’t keep inside any longer.

“With what?”

“With us, B. With the way you make me feel.”

“I know,” she said, her voice soft.

I opened my eyes and met hers, and something inside me broke loose. I cupped her face in my hands and swallowed, the words so close to falling from my lips.

But I couldn’t. I was too much of a coward to say it out loud.

So instead, I took a breath, shifting closer, pressing my mouth against her lips. “I hate you,” I whispered, but my voice wavered, betraying me.

Beverly huffed a breathless laugh. “No, you don’t.”

I pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes.

And that was my mistake.

Because they were wide, blue, deep, endless.

And they were looking at me like she already knew.

Like she had known long before I did.

“Say it,” she whispered.

My heart slammed against my ribs. “Beverly⁠—”

She shook her head. “Say it.”

My throat burned.

My body ached.

And suddenly, I was so fucking tired. “I’m yours, B.”

Beverly let out a sound between a laugh and a sob, and before I could say anything else, she yanked me down to her. Her lips crashed against mine with a desperation that stole the air from my lungs, as if she was afraid I’d take it back. I kissed her back with everything I had—every shred of frustration, every inch of longing, every second I’d spent trying to convince myself I didn’t want this.