Chapter 3

Ryan let himself into Ethan’s apartment with the spare key he’d carried for nearly eight months. The takeout in the bag had already gone cold.

Ethan looked up from the couch. “I thought practice ended an hour ago.”

“It did. The coach kept us.” Ryan set the bag on the coffee table. Neither of them moved toward the food. For the past month, dinner had become an excuse to have conversations they kept avoiding.

Ryan sank onto the opposite end of the couch. “You already ate.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“You’ve said that three nights this week.” Ethan looked away, and the silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable — that was the worst part. It was familiar.

“So,” Ethan finally said, “did Coach talk to you?”

“The scouts are coming next month.”

Ethan’s fingers tightened around the remote. “Congratulations.”

“It doesn’t feel like one.” Ryan shook his head. “If they sign me, you’ll leave.”

“You knew that when we started dating.”

“I know. You always knew hockey wasn’t going to keep me here forever.”

“I know.” Ryan rubbed a hand over his face. “Then why does it feel like we’re pretending? You turned down another internship. It was in Boston.”

“It wasn’t the right fit.”

“So I’d be wherever you weren’t.”

Ethan laughed once, not amused. “There it is. The real reason.”

“I don’t want you putting your life on hold because of me.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, Ryan.”

“No.”

“You are.”

The room fell silent again. Ethan stood and walked to the window, where students crossed campus in groups, laughing, heading toward the welcome party. “They’re all so excited.”

“We used to be.”

Ethan closed his eyes. “Don’t.”

“I’m tired.”

“So am I.”

Ryan crossed the room until they were only a few feet apart. “When was the last time we spent an evening together without checking your research schedule or my practice schedule? When was the last time this felt easy?”

Ethan said nothing, and Ryan already knew why. Somewhere along the way, loving each other had turned into trying not to disappoint each other, and neither of them was succeeding.

“I think we’ve been saying goodbye for weeks,” Ryan said.

“I know.”

Ryan waited, hoping one of them would find a reason not to end this. Neither did. Finally Ethan nodded. “Maybe it’s time we stopped forcing something that doesn’t fit anymore.”

The words hit harder than Ryan expected. They weren’t cruel. They were true, which was worse. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Ethan. The hug lasted only a few seconds. When they pulled apart, Ethan smiled sadly. “No hard feelings?”

“Never. You deserve that hockey dream.”

“You deserve yours too.”

Ryan picked up his jacket. At the door, Ethan called after him. “Ryan.” He turned. “I really did love you.”

His throat tightened. “I know.” Then he left.

⸻

He drove for almost twenty minutes without paying attention to where he was going. His phone buzzed three times.

*Mason: Where are you?*

*Mason: Freshman welcome party. Free food.*

*Mason: Captain, stop ghosting us.*

He almost ignored it. Instead, he turned toward campus — anything was better than sitting alone in an empty apartment.

The party was exactly what he expected: too loud, too crowded. Someone spotted him before he’d made it ten feet inside. “Captain!” He smiled automatically. A freshman asked for a picture, then another, someone wanted to know if the hockey team was recruiting managers, someone else asked him to sign a jersey. By the fifth conversation, he couldn’t remember anyone’s name. He slipped away while everyone else was distracted by the music.

Outside, the cool night air felt like a rescue. He sat on the stone wall overlooking the lawn. For the first time all evening, nobody expected anything from him.

The back door opened. A girl stepped outside and paused when she noticed him. “Oh.”

“I can leave,” he said.

“No — I was just looking for somewhere quieter.” She walked toward the railing instead of him. For a moment neither spoke. Then she looked over. “You hiding too?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“You have the same expression I do.”

“And what’s that?”

“‘If one more person talks to me, I might actually scream.’”

He laughed. “A little too accurate.”

“See? I knew it.” She grinned, and he noticed the plastic cup in her hand. “You okay?”

She looked down at it. “I’ve had probably more of these than I should.”

“Bad party?”

“Bad week.”

“Mine too.”

She leaned against the railing. “Funny I came here to stop thinking.”

“Did it work?”

“For about thirty seconds.”

“I got forty-five.”

She laughed softly and it made him laugh too. “You know, you’re surprisingly easy to talk to.”

“So are you.”

“You’re not going to ask why my week’s been terrible?”

“Not unless you want to tell me.”

“I don’t.”

“Me neither.”

“Perfect.”

The conversation drifted from terrible campus parking to awful orientation speeches to whether pineapple belonged on pizza. He lost track of time. She wasn’t trying to impress him, wasn’t asking about hockey, wasn’t staring at him like she already knew who he was. It was refreshing.

A breeze lifted a strand of hair across her face; she tucked it behind her ear. Ryan found himself smiling. “What?”

“You look happier.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you.”

For a second neither of them looked away. She stepped closer. “So.”

“So?”

“I guess tonight wasn’t a complete disaster.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

He lifted a hand slowly, giving her every chance to move away. She didn’t. His fingers brushed her cheek. “You sure?”

Instead of answering, she rose onto her toes and kissed him softly, tentatively, as if asking the same question. He kissed her back. When they separated she let out a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“So am I.”

He held out his hand. “Want to get out of here?”

She looked back at the music spilling through the open doors, then slipped her hand into his. “I do.”

⸻

The apartment was silent when they walked in. She stood just inside the doorway, looking around the unfamiliar room. Ryan closed the door behind them. For a moment they simply looked at each other. He stepped forward; she met him halfway. Their second kiss lingered longer than the first. When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together.

Neither spoke. He laced his fingers with hers, and together they disappeared down the hallway. The bedroom door clicked shut behind them.

The bedroom was dim, lit only by the streetlight filtering through half-drawn curtains. Ryan guided Mia to the edge of the bed, his hands steady on her waist. Their mouths met again, slower this time, tongues sliding together as his fingers worked the buttons of her shirt open one by one. He pushed the fabric off her shoulders, then reached behind her to unhook her bra, letting it fall away.

Mia’s hands found the hem of his shirt and tugged it upward. Ryan broke the kiss long enough to pull it over his head, then returned to her, palms cupping her breasts. His thumbs brushed over her nipples until they hardened under his touch.

He lowered his mouth to one, sucking gently, tongue flicking across the peak while his hand kneaded the other. Mia’s fingers threaded through his hair, holding him there as her breath quickened.

She reached between them, palming the front of his jeans. Ryan was already hard, the outline of his cock pressing against the denim. She worked his zipper down, slipped her hand inside, and wrapped her fingers around the thick length of him. He groaned against her breast, hips pushing forward into her grip. Pre-cum slicked her palm as she stroked him in slow, firm pulls.

Ryan's hand slid down her stomach, popped the button of her pants, and pushed them down along with her underwear.

He stepped out of his own jeans and boxers, then eased her onto the bed. She lay back, legs parting as he settled between them. Two fingers dragged through her folds, finding her already wet. He pushed inside her with deliberate care, curling against her inner walls while his thumb circled her clit.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Ryan breathed against her neck. "I forgot how good a pussy feels around my fingers."

Mia’s hand stayed wrapped around his cock, guiding him to her entrance. The blunt head nudged her, then pressed forward in one steady thrust that stretched her open until he was buried to the hilt. They stayed locked together, breathing hard, foreheads touching.

"God, you feel incredible," he whispered, voice rough. "So tight... so fucking perfect."

Ryan began to move, slow and deep, each stroke dragging every inch of him along her inner walls. Her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer.

"Yes," Mia gasped, "right there... don't stop."

He shifted the angle, hitting deeper, the head of his cock dragging against that sensitive spot inside her with every thrust. Emma's pussy clenched around him, drawing a low sound from his throat. Her hands roamed his back, nails digging in as pleasure built. Ryan's mouth found her throat, teeth grazing her pulse before his tongue soothed the spot.

"You're squeezing me so tight," he groaned. "I can feel every flutter... fuck, Mia."

She came first, body tightening around him, wetness flooding between them as she cried out. Ryan fucked her through it, pace never faltering, drawing every tremor from her body.

When her aftershocks eased, he pulled out and turned her onto her stomach. Mia rose onto her knees, ass lifted, and he slid back inside her from behind. The new angle let him go deeper. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her back to meet each thrust.

"Look at you taking my cock so well," Ryan panted, thrusting harder. "Your pussy was made for this."

One hand slid around to rub her clit in time with his movements, building her toward another peak. She came again, harder, body shaking as pleasure rolled through her.

"I'm gonna cum," he warned, voice strained.

Ryan followed, burying himself deep and coming with a low groan, hot pulses of cum flooding her, some leaking out around his cock to drip down her thighs.

They stayed locked together, breathing hard. Ryan's hand stroked down her spine in slow, soothing passes. Emma reached back, fingers finding his thigh, holding him there. Neither spoke. The night stretched out around them, bodies still joined, the silence comfortable and full.