“She really is.”

Nerves wrack my body as I reach for the marker still taped to the fridge. “Are we going to be okay?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

I start to write. “Friends for life.”

He takes the marker and writes. “Ride or die.”

I laugh. “Friends at school too, and friends for life, no matter what.”

“Always.” He writes below it. I can tell he’s hesitating or thinking about adding something else. He slowly raises the marker to the top and adds Quinn’s name in with ours as if to say, it’s a pact for everyone, rules for everyone.

Friendship rules.

I smile when I see it, then hold out my hand for the marker. Ambrose passes it over. His fingertips are warm, sexy, and comforting in a way that they shouldn’t be for something so simple.

I write. “Never have I ever had a boyfriend.”

I hand it back to him.

“Be my girlfriend, circle yes or no.” His writing is adorable.

“Hmm.” I grin at the paper. “Should I wait until first period tomorrow to circle?”

“And keep me in suspense?” He laughs. “Do you like torturing people?”

“Yes.”

“Figured.”

With shaking hands, I circle yes, then turn in his arms. He rests his chin on the top of my head for a few brief seconds before pulling back and lowering his head, pressing a slow kiss to my lips.

I’m suddenly lifted onto the kitchen counter and realize that this is the moment things become real. This is our moment.

Our chaos.

Our frenzy.

Our imperfect perfection.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ambrose

My fingertips greedily slide up her sides, lifting her sweatshirt over her head and tossing it to the side. It lands in the sink.

I truly don’t give a fuck.

I just need to taste more of her, I need to take my time, but my body is so not on board with that idea.

“I need you.” I sound like a total simp, but I don’t even care. It’s been too much recently, and I just want her; I need her so desperately that I feel tears prick the back ok my eyes like a total loser, and then I just, I do lose. I lose to her. I lose it all. To her lips, the way they press against mine, pulling, taking.

I’m starving for her.

I only want what she gives.

I’ll kill for more of this.

My hands move to her hips. I fit perfectly in this space, the way she moves against me without even realizing that we already have this rhythm between us, something so natural and pure that I can only just keep kissing her and begging for more in my mind.

Her tongue wraps around mine, and then she pulls back and bites me in the fucking lip.

I walk her into the living room, still gripping her like a needy little shit.

I slam her against the couch and laugh. “Was that fun?”

“You tell me.”

“I’m out for blood.”