I tilt my head, watching him, waiting for him to say something, to stop me, to finally break the silence that’s been hanging between us like a wire pulled too tight. And finally, after what feels like forever, his lips part, his breath shuddering, his voice low and strained and so fucking guilty. “Haven…”

It’s barely a word. More like a plea. Like he wants me to stop but also wants me to keep going, like he doesn’t know which one will kill him faster. I let my nails drag just a little lower, watching the way his jaw flexes, watching the way his breath catches, watching the way he’s so painfully, obviously, completely fucking unprepared for this.

“Carter,” I murmur, just as soft.

His hand snaps up, grabs mine, his fingers curling tight around my wrist, like he’s holding on for dear life, like he’s trying to anchor himself before he drowns completely. His chest rises too fast, too hard, his body trembling, voice barely above a whisper, words barely holding together— “I don’t know how to do this Haven, any of this.”

I blink. I wasn’t expecting that. Of all the things he could have said, of all the ways he could have reacted, all the possible explanations for why he’s been sitting here acting like I’m about to detonate in front of him, that was not what I thought he was going to say. His grip on my wrist is tight, his fingers curled around my skin like he’s afraid I’ll pull away, like he needs me to stay right here, but at the same time, his entire body is practically vibrating with tension, like he’s waiting for something to go wrong.

I stare at him, my mind trying to catch up, trying to process what he just admitted.

He doesn’t know how to do this? Not because he’s nervous. Not because he’s worried about ruining our friendship. But because… holy fuck, is Carter a virgin?

The way he’s looking at me right now, barely keeping it together. I exhale, slow, deliberate, grounding myself, keeping my voice soft when I finally respond. “You’ve never—”