Sometime in the middle of the night, I guess I must’ve just latched on to their back and refused to let go.

They don’t even seem to mind.

I guess my body was used to sleeping in the same bed as Josh, curling around him. I can feel their soft breathing against my chest, the steady rise and fall. I don’t know what time it is, and I don’t want to know. I don’t ever want to leave this bed with them in it. Because the second we do, things are going to change.

I can feel it.

There are feelings now, obviously.

And feelings are never good.

I don’t know if I have it in me to break their heart. I don’t want Wyatt to look at me the same way that Josh did when he told me he loved me, when I had to take his world away from him.

Why did I do this?

Why did I let this happen?

Fuck.

I could’ve turned them down; I should have shut this down before it ever got this heated. I should’ve never kissed them, never taken them down to the pool. I should’ve begged Lindsay to stay in our room last night so that we never even would’ve thought of this as an option.

I don’t feel ashamed of the act, of what we did. I loved kissing Wyatt; I loved seeing them so vulnerable. I liked teaching them, guiding them. The problem is that I want it to happen again; I want it to keep happening. But I don’t know if Wyatt wants to just be friends with benefits.

To be honest, I don’t know if I want that either.

I want more.

I want all of Wyatt, or I want nothing.

And right now, nothing seems like the much safer option.

Wyatt’s better off without me anyway.

I feel Wyatt stir underneath me after who knows how long, and they carefully turn around to face me. I want to get closer to them; I don’t want to forget how their body feels underneath me like this.

“Good morning.” Their voice is slow, rough, tired, perfect.

“Morning.”

They reach up, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” I lie. Because it’s easier to tell them that than it is to admit that I barely slept at all, that I wanted to be awake as we lie here together so that I could remember more of them, more of this moment.

They smile that perfect smile. “Good.”

I smile back at them. I want to be happy right now, and I’m trying my hardest.

“What time does the rehearsal dinner start?” they ask.

“One.”

“Seriously? Isn’t that a little early for dinner?”