LENNOX "How did it go?" Kaleb asked Perth. I opened the dressing room door, and we all rushed inside. "Only a few fans and one paparazzi," Perth replied. His gaze turned to me, and I gave him a look that conveyed we had been deliberately sacrificed. We had willingly taken on the role of the diversion in this instance. However, I had hoped that the paparazzi would have given up their pursuit in Nevada, but most of them had made it to Utah and subsequently to our faces. "More than a few," Kaleb answered as he surveyed the dressing room. It was furnished with black leather couches, silver sofa chairs, a plastic fold

ASHTON Lincoln smiled. "We'll all protect you, Maddy. Just try not to outrun us." "Virgins don't die in horror movies," I interjected, crossing my arms as a breeze swept through. "You've got it backward." "Sleazy characters die first," Sandro remarked from the ground, unbuttoning another button on his white shirt, unfazed by the cold. "Well, in that case, most of us will die," Davin said, tying a bandana around his forehead. I caught Sandro's gaze. "Yeah, you're right." I nodded, appreciating the rare agreement between us on this damn trip. "Death by sex," I explained. "It's a common trope, especially in older ho

LENNOX I reached for the tin and sifted through the cookies. Half of them were decorated with pink icing and two words: "I'm sorry." "I don't get it," Davin said, looking at me. Neither did I. "Did she get glasses?" I asked him. "Maybe she finally realized you're not worth special deliveries—" He threw a cookie aggressively at Ashton, who caught it effortlessly. I raised an eyebrow at Davin. "Fuck you," I said, giving him the middle finger. Davin flashed a brief smile and watched as Ashton examined the "I'm sorry" cookie. Willow noticed the

LENNOX "Wait, wait," Ashton gasps, his breath hot against my jaw. Every time we end up in the cramped bunk together, it's a test of self-control. A movie plays on the flip-down screen, Everybody Wants Some!!, but we've abandoned it multiple times to focus on each other. Our legs are entwined, chests pressed together. Our hands grip, squeeze, and pull. God, I want more. But his hands pause mine with a whispered plea. I watch as he tries to suppress his primal desires, struggling to catch his breath. A mischievous smile tugs at my lips. We're not about to engage in passionate lovemaking just inches away from his co

ASHTON "Seven years ago," he continues, relentless. "Molly fell into the creek behind the lake house, sinking into the treacherous mud. I was halfway there, already ankle-deep in water, but you emerged out of nowhere, donning your shining white armor and carrying a ten-foot rope." His eyes are bloodshot as he says, "It's these little moments that define you. You mean everything to my siblings. To the Haynes girls, to your own sisters and brother. You've become an inescapable shadow, because when you're everything to them, I can't be anything. So who am I?" Sandro points at his chest. "Who am I? And what do I become if I follow you to Harvard? Lost and confused? I was already filled with self-loathing and bitterness, but I'd be even more resentful, waking up every day hating myself for not being more like Ashton J