Lottie and Grayson had a love story a decade in the making, and I had come along and thrown a massive wrench into it. Where she gave him lollipops to make his childhood sweeter, I was its bitter aftertaste.

I heard the blankets shift, the bed creak, and when I looked up, Grayson was on his knees before me. Some emotion burned and cracked in his eyes. But before I could wonder, he pulled me into a hug.

GRAY

Story was stiff in my arms.

Then slowly, hesitantly, she snaked her arms around my waist. Her grasp was small and tender, hands warm.

It was just a hug. It meant nothing.

Friends hugged. So what if my friends don’t hug? If my mother would recoil at the thought, if my grandfather would call me a pussy?

Normal people hugged.

“Get in my bed, Snitch.” I spoke against the top of her head—it smelled like marshmallows. Is that why she always smelled so sweet? It didn’t sound like my voice, but with Snitch, I was learning my voice was a raw and grated thing.

She pulled back, and my eyes dropped to her full lips.

Fuck, I wanted to kiss her. I came really close last night.

“Are you gonna kick me out again?” she asked.

I bit my cheek to keep from smiling. “Maybe.”

Her jaw quirked, and I wanted her to say something. Talk back. She was the only one who did. But she only stood. I stayed on the ground as she did, catching a rare glimpse of her bare knees in her nun nightgown.

Only goddamn Snitch could get me hard over knees, like I was fucking Amish.

When she was settled in my bed, she threw me a curious look. I stood up as well and went to the other side. I stopped, looking at her. Snitch had settled atop the covers again. She gave me that walnut-sized open eyed-stare.

“Get under the sheets,” I grated.

She chewed her bottom lip for a few seconds, then slowly crawled under. I came in after her. I knew I should probably turn on my side and face the ocean. I was starting to like her in my bed too much.

I’d even made a rule last night: don’t bring her up on the bed—and also keep my fucking mouth shut. But when she got it wrong, when she saw me the way everyone else saw me, it fucking twisted me up.

I lay on my side, face edging my pillow, and she did the same.

Nose to nose, her warming my sheets.

Fuck, I really liked this.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” she asked softly.

I arched a brow. “Like fate bullshit?”

“Like…maybe there’s someone out there for us, someone we match with, someone whose soul fits our soul.”

I paused, then said, “Nah.”

“What about Lottie?”

I laughed. “Lottie is way too pure to be my soulmate.”