TWO MONTHS LATER
Evan's POV
The venue is alive with music that pounds through the speakers loud enough to rattle my ribcage.
Graduates are pouring out of cars in their best clothes—suits and dresses that probably cost more than some people's rent, everyone looking polished and ready to celebrate the end of high school like it's the biggest milestone of their lives.
Maybe it is.
Maybe tonight is the last time we'll all be in the same room before we scatter to different colleges, different cities, different versions of ourselves.
It's been two months of not being able to speak to Lena freely or hold her or even see her without breaking the promise we made.
Two months of waiting and wondering if she's thinking about me the way I'm thinking about her.
Two months of restraint that's felt more like punishment than preparation.
But tonight, finally, we're free.
Graduation marks the end of the waiting period, and I'm dying to see her, to touch her, to confirm that what we had wasn't just some fevered dream I've been clinging to.
Noah didn't bother coming. He was convinced Lena wouldn't show up either, too practical to hope for something that seemed unlikely.
But I couldn't stay away. I've been pacing outside in the cold for thirty minutes now, my breath fogging in the night air, watching every car that pulls up with a mixture of hope and dread.
And then a cab pulls to the curb, and she steps out.
I've never seen a woman so beautiful in my entire life.
The black dress she's wearing hugs her body in ways that make my mouth go dry, and she's wearing makeup for the first time since I've known her—dark eyes that seem to see right through me, lips painted a deep red that makes me want to kiss it off immediately.
My cock throbs to life so fast it's almost painful, and I have to take a breath to compose myself before I do something stupid like dropping to my knees right here in the parking lot.
I don't even remember deciding to move. One second I'm frozen in place, staring, and the next I'm rushing toward her like she's gravity and I've been falling this whole time.
I pull her into a hug, burying my face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her perfume—something floral and warm that I want to bottle and keep forever.
"I fucking missed you," I mutter against her neck, and the words don't come close to capturing the ache that's been living in my chest for two months.
Her arms come around me, holding tight. "I miss you too," she says, and her voice is soft and real and everything I've been craving.
I pull back just enough to look at her, my hands still on her waist because I'm not ready to let go.
"Shall we? You're my date for tonight." I say it with a grin, trying to make it sound casual even though every cell in my body is screaming that she's mine, that I want everyone in there to know it.
But she looks skeptical, her brow furrowing slightly. "Evan…"
"Come on, it's our graduation night. No one—" I start, but she cuts me off.
"Still, the plan is for us to meet in college again," she says gently, and the reminder hits like cold water. She's right.
We agreed to wait until college, to keep this quiet, to not make things complicated during these last two months of high school. But knowing she's right doesn't make the disappointment any easier to swallow.
I let go of her arm, the rejection stinging more than it should, and turn toward the entrance.
"Right. See you inside then."
The words come out clipped, bitter, and I hate how petty I sound but I can't help it. I walk into the venue alone, heading straight for the bar because if I can't have her beside me tonight, I at least need a drink to take the edge off.
I'm halfway through my second glass when I feel a touch on my back, light and tentative.
Her voice comes from behind me, whisper-soft. "I'm sorry, let's dance."
I spin around so fast I nearly knock over my drink. She's standing there with an apologetic smile, and just like that, all my anger dissipates like smoke.
Instead of leading her to the crowded dance floor where everyone would see us, where people would ask questions and make assumptions, I find myself grabbing her hand and pulling her in a completely different direction.
"Come with me," I say, and she laughs as I drag her through the venue, past confused classmates, toward the door that leads to the rooftop.
The stairs are narrow and dimly lit, and our laughter echoes off the concrete walls as we climb.
When we burst through the door onto the rooftop, the music from below is muffled, distant, and suddenly we're away from everyone, away from the party, alone under the stars with the city lights spread out around us like something from a movie.
I turn to her, and she's already reaching for me.
Our lips meet with a hunger that's been building for two months, desperate and consuming and absolutely necessary.
She tastes like promises and waiting and everything I've been dreaming about, and I pour two months of restraint into that kiss, trying to tell her without words how much
I've missed this, missed her.
I spot the small maintenance apartment tucked in the corner of the rooftop unlocked, and pull her inside. I shut the door behind us, giving us privacy, a space that's just ours for however long we can steal.
The room is barely furnished, just storage and equipment, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except her hands on my skin, my hands on hers, the way we slowly strip away our clothes between kisses that keep breaking and reforming because we can't stop touching each other long enough to get fully undressed.
When we finally come together, it's tender and intense and everything I didn't know I needed.
I make love to her slowly, deliberately, trying to memorize every sound she makes, every way her body responds to mine.
This isn't rushed or frantic like our stolen moments might have been. This is savoring, claiming, promising without words that two months hasn't changed anything except making me more certain.
By the time we're finished, lying tangled together on our discarded clothes, the music from below has faded.
The party must be winding down, most people probably already gone home. She starts to sit up, reaching for her dress.
"I should go," she says, but there's reluctance in her voice.
I catch her wrist, pulling her back down beside me.
"Not yet," I murmur, wrapping my arms around her and holding on like she might disappear if I loosen my grip. "Just a few more minutes."
She settles against me and lets out a short laugh, but I can feel the tension in her shoulders. "What about Noah?" she asks quietly. "He wasn't here tonight."
I sigh, running my hand through her hair. "He didn't come because he thought you wouldn't either."
The admission makes me feel guilty, like I've stolen something that should have been shared, but I can't bring myself to regret tonight.
She turns to look at me, her eyes searching. "Then why did you come?"
"Because I was hoping you would," I say honestly, and it's the truth stripped bare of any pretense or charm. "I couldn't stand the idea of you showing up and thinking neither of us cared enough to be here."
She kisses me then, soft and sweet and achingly brief.
"It's time to leave," she whispers against my lips, and I know she's right but everything in me rebels against letting her go.
I watch as she gets dressed, pulling the black dress back over her body, fixing her makeup in the dim light from the window.
She looks like she did when she stepped out of that cab—beautiful and untouchable and not quite mine yet.
She comes back to me one more time, pressing a final kiss to my lips that tastes like goodbye and see you later all at once.
Then she waves, her smile bittersweet. "See you in college."
I raise my hand in return, forcing myself to smile even though everything in me wants to ask her to stay.
"See you in college," I echo, and then she's gone, the door closing behind her with a soft click that sounds louder than it should.
I sit there in the empty maintenance room for a long time after she leaves, counting down the days until college starts and we can finally stop saying goodbye.