Nora and Liam leave together shortly after we wrap up the poker game and clean up the remaining snacks and drinks. As we head out to the porch, I give Nora a long hug — or rather, Nora pulls me in for a hug and then wouldn't let go. But it's still a hug nonetheless.

We stand there, watching as they climb into Liam's truck parked along the street. As their vehicle fades into the distance, I turn to Wells, hesitantly saying, "I should probably head out too."

Part of me wants to leave and be content with the time I had with Wells and his family—because truthfully, it was amazing. But, another part of me is reminding myself that this is temporary. That maybe I should go in and have sex with him to avoid complicating what this really is.

To avoid complicating the rules I've set for us.

The irony of it all is that sex complicates things even more for me. And suddenly, everything feels like it's spiraling, becoming too incredibly intricate.

I'm reconsidering everything. Because between the sex, the text messages, and the time I'm spending with Wells, it just leaves me wanting more.

Maybe losing my job isn't such a terrible idea, and maybe this relationship with Wells can become more than just hookups, despite having just ended my two-year relationship with Beckett.

Wells playfully squints his eyes and cocks his head to the side as if I'm crazy for suggesting I'm leaving.

"I had a good time though," I say, taking a step back. "Thank you for letting me crash your game night."

"Where do you think you're going?" He teases, hooking onto the belt loop of my jean shorts, tugging me closer to him.

He pulls me snug against his chest."It's almost one in the morning. I should go to bed."

A warm smile spreads across his face before he says, "Let's go to bed then." He says it like a promise, like there's no hidden meaning behind it.

His hand finds mine and urges me up over the top steps of the porch. I let him guide me back into the house, the door shutting firmly behind us. Half of me expects him to press against it, to lift me up and kiss me until I can't breathe, but instead, he simply locks the door and starts making his way up the stairs, towing me along with my hand in his.

He leads me into his bedroom, his childhood bedroom. The walls wear a musty green color, a shade slightly darker than the green in his eyes. Pennant flags hang from the walls and a vintage-looking canvas world map is mounted above his tiny, full-sized bed with plaid sheets. It's so tiny, I'm not sure how his feet don't dangle off the ends of it.

I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand before asking him, "Do you even fit in that bed?"

He lets out a chuckle as he heads toward the dresser in the corner. "Not really anymore. But I manage during the summers."

I turn to the bookshelves that span an entire wall, walking over to them to peruse his book collection. Biographies, journalism texts, and a few fiction novels catch my eye, including 'Book Lovers' and 'The Hot Doctor' from the bookstore that day. A smile forms on my lips as I run my fingers over their spines.

Between all the books and little knickknacks, there are pictures of him in Little League and younger snapshots with his sister and parents. It's striking how much he resembles his dad—the same wavy brown hair and piercing green eyes. There's a photo capturing his dad's prideful gaze as Wells stands, holding a baseball bat over his shoulder.

"Here you go," he says suddenly and I turn around to him holding out two shirts, one in each hand. I glance down at them. "Long sleeve or short sleeve?"

"Oh, um," I say, my brows slightly furrowed with a smile. "Short sleeve, please."

Are we really just sleeping?

He hands me the shirt, and I accept. "I left you a new toothbrush in the bathroom. It's the first door on the right."

"Thanks," I say with a nod.

I pad my way down the hall to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I take a deep breath, coaxing myself not to read too much into this. Telling myself that this is just sex, and afterward, I'll go home. That this temporary arrangement will come to an end sooner than later, and I'll have to go back to seeing him solely as my coworker and we'll have to forget this all ever happened.

My stomach twists at the thought.

Just for the summer Juniper. Just a few weeks.

I turn towards the sink and begin to peel off my clothes, slipping the t-shirt over my head. Its hem falls to the middle of my thighs, and a smile spreads across my face as I catch a glimpse of myself in Wells' NYU t-shirt. It smells of him, like fresh laundry and linen. I wonder if he'd noticed if I took it home with me.

I place the rest of my clothes in a pile and then grab the toothbrush, yawning as I apply toothpaste to it.

No, Juniper. Stop yawning. You're not tired.

I brush my teeth and wash my face before reaching for the door handle. With a deep breath, I open it and make my way back to Wells' room. I stand there in the doorway as I walk in on him fluffing the pillows and pulling back the sheets. He's in nothing but his tight black boxer briefs, and heat pools in every corner of my body.

I feel hot and tingle everywhere. We've had sex before, yes, but I've never seen him with so few clothes on, and I'm relishing every second of it.

He sits on the bed when he notices me in the doorway and his eyes meet mine, a smile spreads across his face. His gaze slowly crawls down from my eyes to the shirt I'm wearing, lingering at the hem that falls to my thighs. He pats the bed right next to him. "Come on, come to bed."

I walk around the small full bed and climb in, resting my head on the pillow. A smile tugs at my lips as he pulls the blankets and comforter over us, then wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close to him. We're chest to chest, stomach to stomach, hips aligned. My feet intertwine with his legs, and I nuzzle my face into his neck.

I breathe in deeply, inhaling his scent, and exhale a contented sigh, my eyes shut in bliss. I'm certain if he were to pull away and look at me, I'd be grinning because this feels like exactly what I've been missing—everything I've been wanting.

Just a few weeks Juniper.

"You look good in my shirt," he comments, brushing his lips on the top of my head.

"Are you flirting with me, Wells Hansen?" I tease. "You trying to get in my pants?"

"I have been for the past month, but thanks for noticing," I snort out a laugh.

"Well, I don't have any pants on, so now is your chance."

"In a minute," he replies, pulling me closer. I feel him hard as he presses against my thigh, but he doesn't seem to be in any rush to make any moves. "Tell me how your week was."

"It was good. I got a lot of writing done."

"Tell me about your book."

"I told you it's a surprise. A secret. You'll find out when it's done."

"A secret for a secret then."

"Okay, fine. Secret for a secret," I say, yawning against his neck. "But instead of secrets, you can only ask questions."

"Okay, so then twenty questions?"

I hum in agreement, "What's your question, Wells Hansen?"

"Is it an erotica?"

I huff a laugh. "No"

"How many words did you write while I was gone?"

"Twenty thousand."

I feel him pulling back to look at me. I can imagine the impressed expression on his face, but I can't bring myself to open my eyes. It just feels too good to open them with him holding me like this.

"I know, I'm impressive," I joke. But truthfully, I was impressed with myself too. It was unexpectedly easy. Once I sat down and figured out what I wanted to write a book about, I couldn't stop. The words just poured out of me, and I loved every second of it.

He chuckles, tucking my head against his neck, his chin nestled atop mine. "I think that might be more than all the writing you've done this whole year, combined with your articles."

"Hey," I tease, playfully poking him in the ribs, smiling when he flinches. He catches my hand and guides it back around his middle. "Next question."

"Okay." He mulls it over. "Does it have a happy ending?"

"I think so, yes."

"Is it funny?"

"Oh god, I hope so."

"What's your main character's name?"

"Maisie Griffin and Logan Curtis"

"What are the tropes?"

I smile at this question. "I didn't think you knew what tropes were. Color me impressed."

"You should be." I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Friends to lovers and fake dating," I answer his question.

He hums, contemplating my response.

"Alright, my turn," I announce.

He chuckles, his laughter vibrating against my body. I nuzzle my face deeper into his chest because I like the way it feels against my cheek. "That's not how twenty questions work."

"It's how my version of twenty questions works," I mumble against him.

"Okay, fine," he relents, brushing a hand over my hair. "What's your question?"

"Do you really hate my outfits?"

He chuckles. "No, they're all very cute."

"Really?" I ask, pulling my head back slightly and cracking an eye open to gaze at him.

"Mmhmm, I love them," he confirms with a nod.

"Hmm, interesting. I'm not sure I believe on that one" I nuzzle my face back into his neck. "Do you like being a journalist?"

"I do, yes. Very much."

"Is that all you've ever wanted to be?"

"I wanted to be an astronaut until I was about 14 and then I realized how terrible I was at math."

I laugh against his chest, feeling him draw me a little closer even though we're already as close as can be. "Was it the spaceships that had you?"

"No, I thought Yoda existed." I laugh even harder. "Too much Star Wars growing up. Next question."

And before I can stop myself, the question escapes my lips. "Why did you and your fiancé break up?"

I feel him go rigid against me, and I squeeze my eyes closed tighter. It wasn't something I meant to voice aloud. It's just a question that has been gnawing at the back of my mind ever since he mentioned it that night during dinner after he rescued us on the boat.

"I'm sorry. Please don't answer that," I mumble, bringing my hands up to shield my face, overcome by embarrassment. "That's way too personal."

"No, it's okay." He gently tries to remove my hands from my face. "You can ask me anything."

Shaking my head, I try to pull away from him, but he takes my hand, places a kiss on it, and guides it back around him. "You really don't need to answer that."

"It's not that big a deal."

"But, Wells—"

"Juniper, it's okay, really." A sigh escapes me, tinged with embarrassment.

"Well, uh, we met at NYU and got engaged just after college. When my dad got sick, I came back from New York to help my mom for a few months. Emilia stayed in New York working. And it was strange. We'd talk every day, then every day became every few days, and then every few days became just once every couple of weeks. So much so we'd just call because we hadn't in a month, not because we missed each other. At first, I don't think we paid much attention to it because we assumed things would return to normal once I went back to New York. The plan was to always go back to New York. So, when that plan changed and I decided to stay here indefinitely, I knew it probably wasn't going to work. And it was an easy conversation with her. Mutual really; she didn't want to join me here, and surprisingly, I was fine with that. She's a great friend, but I think eventually, I realized I could manage without her just fine. Living without her felt... normal. And I think she felt the same."

"She didn't want to move here with you?"

"No, not really. I think she would've if I had pushed her, but truthfully, I didn't want that. She'd just landed a job at a major literary agency, and it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for her and I didn't want her to give up for me."

Oh god, of course, she has a cool job like that. One I'd love to have now. I bet she's good at it too. She probably has her whole life sorted out. Probably represents a New York Times best-selling author.

"And we just parted ways that easily. We worked well together, but we just weren't in love with each other," he adds.

"Do you ever think about going back to Ne—?"

There's a rumble of protest in his throat, and then "tsk tsk". "I believe it's my turn to ask a question, Jenkins."

I huff a sigh, melting into him a little more. "Fine."

"How long do you think it'll take for you to fall asleep in my arms like this?"

"I don't know," I reply, yawning into his chest. "Let's find out."

He plants a gentle kiss on the top of my head, and I can feel the warmth of his smile lingering against my hair as I close my eyes. I'm not sure how long it takes—probably just minutes— but all I can remember thinking before I fall asleep is how I've never felt so comfortable being held like this before.

Notes

What did you think of this chapter?

The next chapter is another spicy one! 🌶️

Still debating between a Wells or Juniper POV. Any thoughts or preferences?