I shrug and lean back a little, so damn happy to see him. God, he makes me feel giddy, which is not something I feel often. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I yank him inside the room, shutting the door and going right for his t-shirt. He laughs and lets me pry it from his body before we move toward my tiny dorm-room bed, but when I take mine off and go for his pants, he stops me. “Wait. Just one sec, okay?”

I huff, which is not very adult, but I don’t care. I want to fuck my boyfriend. Or for him to fuck me. I haven’t been inside him, although he said he’s totally down for it. I’ve massaged his prostate with my fingers and teased him a little and made him come that way. But I haven’t had my dick inside him yet.

Oh, fuck. We need to hurry up and talk before I come without any contact.

I graze my fingers down the solid muscles of his abs and groan. My boyfriend is really fucking hot.

“I’m moving here.”

Wait. What did he just say?

“What?”

He chuckles, and it makes all his muscles ripple under my fingertips, which is distracting as hell. But I try my best to focus.

“What do you mean you’re moving here?”

He moves his body between my legs as I settle down on my back, and he leans into me. “Oakley’s dad knows a guy here who owns a landscaping business. I’m going to work for him. They even know of a house near campus I can rent. I’m going to look at it today.”

“You’re moving here?” I’m in a daze.

But his smile only brightens. “I told you we’d figure it out. It was simple. I still don’t have to go to stupid college and can keep working in landscaping. But now, I live here. I can see you every damn day. And if you want to, you can move in with me this summer.”

“You’ll stay here for me?” I move my hand up to cup his jaw, staring at him in total awe because no one moves their life for me. No one except for him. He’s always done that. Adjusted his plans to work around my shitty life.

“Of course, I will. I don’t need Kensley, Prescott. I need you.”

“We’re back to last names?”

He chuckles and nips on my bottom lip playfully. “I can always call you QB.”

“Oh God, no,” I groan playfully, but I look into his eyes. “Are you sure you want this? You love Kensley.”

“I love you more.” He says it so easily, so him.

“It’s not that simple.”