With mixed feelings, I stood in front of the suite door and took a moment to steel myself for anything that might come. Please be home. Please don't be at an afterparty. All I could do was hope it wasn't too late. Taking neither the first nor the last deep breath for the night, I lifted my hand and rapped on the door. I could have opened it myself, I knew John's passcode in my sleep, but that was not the right way to start out.

Seconds passed, and everything remained still. So still that I feared the door would remain shut in my face, but at that moment, Devin flung the door open, still in his slacks and shirt, sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up to his tan forearms. When he laid eyes on me, likewise still in my teal dress, surprise overtook his features.

"Grace, hey."

His polite tone scratched at my heart with iron claws. We had been good friends not too long ago. Before I had hurt his best friend. After a moment, he moved away from the door.

"Hi, Devin. Is John there?"

"Tss, and here I thought you had finally come to your senses and were here to confess your undying love to me."

The smile didn't reach his eyes. I could tell I was making him on edge and I hated it.

"Hang on." He turned to knock on John's door held ajar by a formerly white name brand sneaker, then peeked his head in. "Grace is here."

Three seconds passed, then five, then eight, and Devin's head was still hidden by the door. My heart sank. He didn't want to see me.

A moment later, Devin's voice ripped me from my self-pity. "Mr. Jay will see you now."

As quickly as it had sunk, my heart hoisted itself back up and beat in my throat instead of in my ribcage. I couldn't allow myself to think of all the months that had led up to this moment.

I nodded at Devin, then quietly and with all the caution in the world, stepped around him and pushed open John's door with my pinkie and ring finger before I slipped inside and pushed the sneaker aside with my foot for the door to close.

Click.

While I took off my coat and hung it over my arm, I assessed his room. It was messy, but no more messy than usual. John was perched on the edge of his bed. He and Dev must have just gotten home, because he, too, was still dressed in his black dress pants and white shirt. The top button was undone and, like Devin's sleeves, his were also rolled up and exposed his forearms. God, how can forearms be so sexy? His shoulders were slumped, his eyes glued to the floor.

A couple of seconds passed before I managed to speak. "Hey."

Goodness, my voice is all over the place.

"Hey," John replied and looked at me only briefly before returning his gaze to the blueish-gray tiled linoleum.

Embarrassment was written on his face and I wanted nothing more than to alleviate his discomfort. However, I had once again come unprepared and didn't know what to say to him, how to tell him. This was becoming a bad habit.

I couldn't expect him to fall into my arms. But the thing was, from early on, despite everything with Liam, it had only been John, and now it seemed so stupid that we still weren't together. I was thinking of what he had said earlier tonight: we liked each other and could be together, where was the problem?

Sighing, I placed my coat on the back of the wooden chair by the door and sat down right beside John on the edge of his bed, leaning my head onto his shoulder. It seemed instinctive when he raised a hand to brush a strand of hair away from my face before stopping himself and dropping it back into his lap. I lightly grazed the inside of his forearm with my fingernail and goosebumps formed on his perpetually tan skin. When he didn't pull away, I ran the pads of my fingers toward his wrist, past his raging pulse that matched mine, and slipped my hand into his. He gripped it with a forceful desperation, then brushed the back of it with his thumb.

"John," I whispered.

He hummed in response.

"I'm sorry."

Taking a deep breath, he let go of my hand and said: "Don't be."

"I'm the biggest idiot."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw how John squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb.

"You're not. I feel like the biggest idiot."

"Sounds to me we'd fit together perfectly." I lifted my head to look at him, then swallowed all of my anxiety and pride and idiocy and asked: "Will you give me another chance?"

He looked at me for a second, trying to make sense of what I was saying. Then he turned away again.

"It's admirable how dedicated you are to... your relationship. I hate it, I won't lie, but I respect that we can't be friends anymore. You don't have to let me down gently."

No no no no no. Agh, he was taking this the wrong way. I needed to woman up and get a grip or this ship would sink.

Taking a deep breath, I said quietly: "John, I don't want to be your friend anymore because I like you too much to be just your friend. If you'll still have me, I want to be with you."

His head snapped up and he looked at me in something between bewilderment and awe. Nothing came out when he opened his mouth, so I seized the opportunity to eliminate any final misunderstandings.

"I broke up with Liam. Finally. I should have done it a long time ago. So, please, give us another chance?"

Biting my lip and picking at a cuticle, I observed his face for any reaction. I was a wreck. John closed his eyes for several long seconds and breathed.

"Damn, you have a remarkably poor choice of words, has anyone ever told you that?" His eyes popped open again. "I was convinced you had dumped me down for good earlier at the Ball. Are you sure you want me?"

My hand cupped his jaw, the rough skin tickling mine. "So much it scares me." Like I told you on Thanksgiving.

His hand covered mine, his eyes still wide as if he couldn't believe he was awake. "Is this real?"

I smiled. "You'd better believe it."

His expression adjusted to align with mine and he shook his head in disbelief. "I'm not sure I can."

"Maybe I can be more convincing by talking less?"

"I'm sure you can." Finally, his infamous mischievous grin, to my great joy and relief, fully returned, making me blush as I understood the implication he meant.

I pushed his shoulder. "Get your mind out of the gutter, John! I meant if I kissed you."

His laugh was a sweet melody played on a xylophone. "We should try. It may take more than one attempt, though, fair warning."

A swarm of butterflies that had been tangled in a knot before suddenly broke free and surged through my stomach. I chuckled and leaned forward, then slipped my hand from his jaw to the back of his neck and looked into his eyes. The swirls of warmth and affection expanded, leapt over to my ribcage and kept expanding until my heart threatened to explode. Maybe his dorm room wasn't as romantic of a setting as a wedding or a dance, but for the first time in months, my head and my heart were in tune. Everything felt right.

When I opened my mouth to explain why I had waited, he lifted his finger to intervene. "I thought we said less talking." Without further ado, his mouth crashed onto mine and ignited a firework behind my closed eyelids.

His lips were every bit as soft and warm as I had imagined in my dreams. His hand slipped to the nape of my neck and into my loose hair as he pulled me closer. I choked up a chuckle when my breath hitched in my throat. My head spun as I now fully leaned into him, cupping the back of his head and brushing my fingertips across his scalp. Every nerve ending in my body was on high alert, and there were so many sensory stimuli that my brain started the emergency shut-off.

He pulled away just a few inches to look me up and down. Without realizing it, I had slid into his lap where he was holding me up, and my dress had ridden up my thighs.

"Fuck, Grace. This dress should be illegal on you." A whimper escaped my lips as he kissed my neck before coming back up.

"As much as I need these layers gone, this isn't the time and place. When we're ready, we'll take our time and do this right. Okay?"

I nodded. Without detaching his fiery gaze from mine, he reached over and tugged the hem of the teal fabric back down. The skin where he brushed against my thigh went straight up in flames. No firefighter in the world stood a chance against this blaze.

John's eyelids closed. "This is better. Your bedroom eyes were killing me."

I gasped and swatted at him, his eyes opening again reflexively. "I wasn't making—"

"Yes, you were." His wide grin told me he wasn't too bothered. "I love your gorgeous eyes, but they're dangerous weapons."

"We should probably slow down, then," I whispered and matched his grin. It couldn't hide the fact that I was all hot and bothered, and John's dilated pupils spoke the same language.

"Probably," he murmured and pressed another aching kiss to my lips.

My free hand ran across his forearm. It was hard to believe that his body reacted to me the same way that mine reacted to him, but the goosebumps on his skin proved it. Finally, after all these months of longing and hiding and pushing each other away, here was John. My study partner. My friend. My crush. My boyfriend. John John John. And it was real.