Theo pulls up in front of my dorm, killing the engine. He doesn't move to get out, doesn't rush me to leave. Just sits there, one hand draped over the steering wheel, the other slipping into mine like he owns it. Like he owns me.

Which I kinda like actually.

His fingers trace slow, teasing circles against my palm, and my stomach flips, heat curling low in my belly.

"So, I'll be seeing you later?" His voice is smooth, confident—like he already knows the answer.

I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes.

"Have you always been this smug, or is this a new personality trait?"

His lips curl into that devastating smirk, the one that used to annoy me—before I knew how good it felt against my skin.

"Oh, Isla," he murmurs, his thumb dragging over my wrist in a way that makes me shiver. "I've always been this way. You were just too busy pretending you weren't attracted to me to notice."

A rush of heat floods my face, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

"Attracted to you?" I scoff, feigning indifference. "That's a bold assumption."

His hand tightens around mine, pulling me closer until his breath ghosts over my lips.

"An assumption?" His voice drops, dark and teasing. "Tell me, baby—when I had you underneath me last night, was that also an assumption?"

My breath catches, and his smirk turns predatory.

"You know what?" I blurt, grasping for control I no longer have. "I think I liked you better before."

He chuckles, low and rough. "Liar."

Before I can come up with a half-decent retort, he crashes his mouth to mine.

The kiss is filthy—deep and all-consuming, his tongue sweeping over mine like he owns every inch of me. Like he's daring me to pretend I don't want this as much as he does. His hand slides up my neck, tilting my head the way he wants, fingers threading into my hair as he devours me.

By the time he pulls back, I'm breathless, my fingers curled in his shirt, holding on for dear life.

His thumb brushes my swollen bottom lip, and he grins, all smug, wicked satisfaction.

"Still want to pretend you don't like me?"

I swallow hard, my pulse thrumming in my ears. "I hate you."

His laughter is pure sin. "No, you don't."

He winks, tapping my chin before leaning back. "Be good, baby."

I glare at him, yanking open the door with shaky fingers. "I was good. You ruined me."

Theo just smirks. "And I'll do it again later."

Smug, arrogant, irresistible bastard.

I roll my eyes but can't stop smiling as I grab my bag and step out of the Audi. He waits until I'm inside before pulling away, and I barely make it three steps into the lobby before a familiar voice stops me.

"Well, I'll be damned."

I turn to see Becca leaning against the front desk, arms crossed, a knowing grin on her face.

"I guess the confession worked out, huh?"

I groan, pressing my hands to my cheeks, which are still warm from Theo's kiss.

"Shut up."

Becca just cackles, linking her arm through mine as we head toward my room.

"You're glowing," she teases. "And Theo looked way too smug for someone who just dropped his totally platonic best friend off at her dorm."

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest.

Because I have to tell her. She's my best friend, and there's no way she won't figure it out on her own.

So the second we step inside my room, I turn to her, my voice quiet but sure.

"Becs," I say, my fingers twisting in the hem of Theo's hoodie. "I—I lost my virginity to him."

Her mouth falls open. For a full second, she just stares. And then—

She screams.

"Oh my god." She grabs my shoulders, shaking me like she's trying to rattle more details out of me. "You what?!"

I groan, already regretting telling her. "Becca—"

"No. You do not get to just drop that on me and then act all shy about it." She shoves me onto the bed, bouncing down beside me. "Start talking."

I sigh, burying my face in my hands. But the second I peek up at her, she's practically vibrating with excitement.

Becca grips my arm, eyes practically feral with curiosity. "Start from the beginning. And don't you dare leave anything out."

I groan, already regretting this. "Becca—"

"No. No hesitation. Spill. You lost your virginity to Theo Dwyers, the man who has been making heart eyes at you since forever. Your platonic best friend. I need details."

My face burns as I pull my knees up to my chest. "It just... happened."

Becca scoffs. "Nothing just happens with a guy like Theo. He either planned that shit down to the second, or he completely lost control because he finally got his hands on you."

I bite my lip because, well... she's not wrong.

Becca gasps. "Oh my God. He lost control, didn't he?" She flops back on my bed, absolutely delighted. "I knew it. That man has been walking around with the patience of a saint, but I knew the second he got you, he'd—"

"Becca." I cover my face with my hands, muffling a groan.

She sits up on her elbows, grinning. "Okay, okay. I'll be normal." A beat. "Did he make you come?"

I choke. "Becca!"

"What?! It's a valid question! First times can be you know... underwhelming."

My cheeks burn hotter as flashes of last night play in my mind—Theo's hands, his mouth, the way he ruined me like he had something to prove.

I clear my throat, voice barely above a whisper. "It wasn't underwhelming."

Becca shrieks and flings herself backward, kicking her feet like she physically cannot handle it.

"Oh my god, I'm so happy for you," she says dramatically. "You deserve toe-curling, mind-blowing, ruin-your-life sex. And if anyone was going to give it to you, it was definitely Theo."

I bury my face in my hands, half-laughing, half-mortified. "I can't believe I'm talking to you about this."

She grins. "I can."

I peek at her through my fingers, hesitating before voicing the question sitting heavy in my chest.

"Do you think... I mean, does it change things? Between me and Theo?"

Becca snorts. "Babe. The guy has been obsessed with you for years. The only thing that's changed is that he finally got to do something about it."

I exhale slowly, letting her words settle. Because she's right. Last night didn't change anything—it just made what's always been there impossible to ignore.

Becca nudges my knee with hers. "You're freaking out for no reason. He's Theo. He worships the ground you walk on. And judging by the way he kissed you outside? You have nothing to worry about."

A small smile tugs at my lips, warmth spreading in my chest. Because deep down, I know she's right.

I let out a slow breath, my heart thudding against my ribs. "Yeah. He, uh... also said we're dating now."

Becca stills. Then, slow and deliberate, "He asked you?"

I exhale a laugh, shaking my head. "No, Becca. He told me."

Her brows shoot up before she cackles. "Holy shit. Of course he did."

I roll my eyes, but I can't fight the warmth spreading through my chest. "Yeah."

She smirks, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Lemme guess. He said something all bossy and absolute, like, 'You're mine now,' and then just expected you to nod and agree?"

I swallow, my pulse spiking as last night replays in my head—Theo's darkened gaze, the rough edge to his voice, the way he had me caged between his arms like I belonged there.

"Something like that."

Becca gasps, clutching her chest in mock swoon. "Oh my God." Then, she leans in, eyes deadly serious. "Are you into it?"

The answer is immediate. Automatic.

"Yes."

Her grin is pure mischief. "You're so fucked."

I bury my face in my hands. "Tell me something I don't know."

******

I'm still grinning like a goddamn fool by the time I make it to my studio.

Which, to be clear, is not normal.

Most mornings, I roll in half-asleep, coffee in one hand, sketchbook in the other, and a permanent scowl plastered on my face until noon.

But today?

Today, I dropped Isla off at her dorm with my hoodie still hanging off her frame and my taste still on her lips. She looked up at me like I hung the damn stars—shy but glowing, all soft smiles and warm eyes.

And yeah. Yeah, that did something to me.

I unlock the door, step inside—

And immediately regret it.

Lewis is already here, sitting on the couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table like he owns the place.

He doesn't even look up from his phone before saying, "You're looking way too happy for this early in the morning."

Finally, he glances up, eyes scanning over me like he's trying to read between the lines. Then, with a slow smirk, he leans back against the cushions.

"So, either you won the lottery, or you got thoroughly fucked out."

I pause, barely two steps inside.

Then I roll my eyes and toss my keys onto the desk. "Good morning to you too, asshole."

Lewis barks out a laugh, sitting up properly now, elbows on his knees.

"No, but seriously—what's with the face?" He squints at me. "Wait. Did you win the lottery?"

I shake my head, grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge. "No."

His smirk widens. "So, you did get laid."

I don't respond.

Mostly because I know better than to give him any reaction. But also because I'm too fucking smug to pretend otherwise.

Lewis gapes at me, then lets out a low whistle.

"Holy shit. You did." He shakes his head like he can't believe it. "It finally happened."

I unscrew the cap from my water bottle, taking a slow sip. "Don't be fucking weird about it."

He snorts.

"Me? Be weird? Please. I'm just processing the fact that Theodore Jameson Dwyers finally got his dick wet."

I glare at him. "I hate you."

He grins. "No, you don't."

I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Are you done?"

"Not even close." He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So, Isla finally caved, huh?"

I lift a brow. "Caved?"

"Oh, come on." He gestures at me. "Everyone knew you two were inevitable. It was just a matter of when."

I don't say anything, just tip my head back against the wall, that smug feeling creeping back in. But quickly realise, it was this ass wipe that was insistent on me moving on from Isla. Then I stare at Lewis, deadpan.

"Yeah, well, weren't you the same wanker that told me to move on with Peyton?"

Lewis has the audacity to cackle. Full-on, head-thrown-back laughter like this is the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Mate." He wipes at his eyes, still grinning. "That wasn't advice. That was me trying to get you to stop looking like a lovesick little bitch every time Isla walked into the room."

I flip him off. "You're a shit friend."

I stare at Lewis, who is still grinning like he's enjoying this way too much, and exhale sharply.

"Actually," I say, crossing my arms, "the real question here is why the fuck you're in my house at—" I check the time. "—nine in the goddamn morning."

Lewis doesn't even flinch. Just shrugs like this is totally normal. "Had some free time. Thought I'd drop by."

I narrow my eyes. "No. See, dropping by is when a normal person knocks on the door like a decent human being. Breaking into my house is something else entirely."

He smirks. "Wasn't breaking in. You gave me a key, dumbass."

And that? That right there is my single biggest regret in life.

Because months ago, in a moment of severe misjudgement, I made the mistake of handing Lewis a spare key. And I knew I'd regret it. I knew he'd abuse the privilege.

But somehow, I still underestimated just how much.

I run a hand down my face, already exhausted. "Remind me why I haven't taken that back yet?"

He leans back against the couch, grinning. "Because deep down, you love me."

I scowl. "That's a stretch."

Lewis winks. "You let me in your house. I'd say that means something."

I shake my head, officially fucking done with this conversation. "Whatever. Just don't make yourself comfortable."

He throws his hands up. "Too late." Then, after a beat— "So, how was it?"

I glare at him. "Get out."

He just laughs harder.

Lewis pushes off the couch, stretching like he's just had a long, exhausting morning of pissing me off.

"Alright, alright. I'll leave."

He heads for the door but pauses just long enough to turn back with a shit-eating grin.

"Oh, and Theo?" He cocks his head, eyes glinting with mischief. "Now that you've officially gotten your dick wet, I highly recommend hydration. Wouldn't want to cramp up next time you blow Isla's back out."

I don't think—just grab the closest thing within reach—a damn coaster—and hurl it at him.

The bastard dodges at the last second, laughing his way out the door before slamming it shut behind him.

I exhale slowly, scrubbing a hand down my face. I should have taken that key back months ago.

Shaking my head, I move toward my desk, flipping through my sketchbook. I should get some work done or at least pretend to. But I'm still stuck in that dazed, post-Isla haze, my brain refusing to focus on anything that isn't her.

Five minutes pass. Maybe less.

Then the doorbell rings.

I don't even think before calling out, "Fuck off, Lewis!" as I stalk toward the door.

But when I yank it open, it's not Lewis standing there.

It's Peyton.

And she looks pissed.