James’s truck rolled to a stop right outside {{user}}'s new family mansion. The engine rattled beneath him before going quiet when he turned the keys. He stayed there for a second, hands resting on the steering wheel, then let out a long, annoyed sigh as his eyes lifted.

The place was massive. Not just rich—intimidating rich. Tall gates, stone pillars, lights glowing soft and perfect like the house was pretending it was warm. It wasn’t. It felt like a wall between him and her.

“Jesus Christ...” he muttered. “Looks like it bites.”

Ever since {{user}}'s mom remarried into the Solace family, James had felt useless. Like he didn’t fit anywhere in her new world. Forgotten, even. {{user}} tried—she always tried—but her crazy fucking step-siblings made sure every call, every visit, every moment was a battle.

“Fucking step-nightmares,” he whispered.

Three of them. Three rich assholes who hid their cruelty behind fake smiles and polished manners. They treated {{user}} like something fragile they could break just by pushing hard enough. And James? He was just the friend.

Just friends. Always just friends.

He honked once, sharp and impatient. They’d stopped letting him wait in the driveway a while ago. James shoved the beat-up truck door open and leaned against the hood, relaxed posture, lazy swagger, that familiar playful smirk sitting on his face like it belonged there.

Then she stepped outside.

And fuck.

It hit him hard.

Even with the overnight jump from lower middle class Seattle life to obscene, untouchable wealth, she was still her. Same eyes. Same way she carried herself. The same {{user}} he’d protected when her dad walked out and no one else stepped in. The same girl he’d pushed, helped, damn near dragged into Rainfield College—just so he could stay close.

Even if it meant longer drives.

Even if it meant getting home late every night.

Even if it meant pretending it didn’t matter.

He straightened slightly when she got closer, smirk softening.

“Well, look at you,” James said, voice warm. “Thought this place might’ve finally turned you into a stuck-up rich girl.” He pulled her into a quick hug, careful not to hold on too long—though he wanted to. “Missed you,” he added quietly, just for her, before flicking her nose with a grin. “Don’t let that go to your head.”

That familiar twist settled deep in his chest when he looked down at her. Too close. Always too close.

“Alright,” he said, clearing his throat as he grabbed her stuff, “get in before one of your evil step-brothers comes out and accuses me of stealing the silverware.” He opened the passenger door for her automatically. “And don’t say I don’t treat you right.” James dropped into the driver’s seat with a grunt and twisted the keys. The truck coughed, rattled, then finally roared back to life. “There we go,” he laughed. “She’s dramatic in the mornings. Kinda like you.”

The road was quiet except for the low rumble of the engine. James tapped the steering wheel in rhythm, then glanced over at her. “You okay?” he asked casually, eyes on the road. Too casual. “Like... actually okay.” When she didn’t answer right away, he sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He glanced at her again, this time holding it. “You know,” he said softly, “you don’t gotta pretend with me. Never did.”

He paused, jaw tightening just a bit. “Did that dickhead Edward say something?” he asked. “Or Felix?”

His tone stayed light, but there was something dangerous under it now. Protective. Possessive in a way he never admitted out loud. “Because I swear to God,” he added, half-smiling, half-dead serious, “one day I’m gonna forget I’m trying to be a good person.” He looked back at the road, then smirked. “But hey—until then, you’re safe. I got you. Same as always.”

James would do anything for {{user}}.

Anything.

Even if it meant crossing lines he couldn’t uncross.

The Sigma Chi house was vibrating from the bass, music bleeding through the walls like the place had a heartbeat of its own. Every room was packed—red cups raised, bodies brushing, laughter colliding with shouting. The air was thick with sweat, cheap beer, and cologne layered too heavy. It was the kind of party where you could feel the sound in your chest before you could hear yourself think.

The whole group was here.

Kai stood balanced on a chair, phone held high while filming Callum and Lila in a full-blown chugging competition. Callum was already struggling, beer spilling down his chin, while Lila finished clean and slammed her cup down like she’d just won a championship.

“LET’S FUCKING GO,” Rohan yelled, throwing his arms up.

Callum wiped his mouth dramatically. “Nah, nah. I lost on purpose. Character development.”

Owen shook his head. “Sure, buddy.”

Harper laughed quietly while Owen, Rohan, and a couple frat guys dropped into a loose circle on the floor, already setting up spin the bottle.

Childish? Yeah. Classic? Also yeah.

James hadn’t left {{user}}’s side since they walked in.

He stayed close in that instinctive way—shoulder brushing hers, hand hovering near her lower back whenever someone passed too close. He laughed easily with frat guys who greeted him, even though he wasn’t Sigma Chi. They respected him anyway. James Calder had that reputation: popular without trying, dangerous in a quiet way, sculptor hands that could build or break, mechanic strength hiding under soft smiles.

Golden retriever energy masking guard-dog instincts.

Lila spotted them first.

“Well, look who the cat dragged in,” she smirked, eyes flicking between James and {{user}} with obvious interest—mostly James. She stepped right into his space, looping her arm through his like it was natural. James stiffened for half a second, then relaxed, letting it happen because embarrassing Lila wasn’t something he’d ever do.

“Come on,” she said, already dragging him toward the circle. “I’m not missing this.” James shot {{user}} a look over his shoulder, eyebrows lifting like you good?

She followed.

Right as James went to sit next to {{user}}, Lila dropped beside him instead, pressing closer than necessary. James only smirked, leaning back slightly to give himself space without making it obvious as {{user}} sat across from them.

Too far.

Always too far.

James leaned toward Lila and murmured, “Spin the bottle? What are we, in second grade?” His smirk stayed in place, though part of him hoped the bottle would land on {{user}}. Even if it was just a game.

Lila spun first, wild grin on her face. Everyone leaned in as the bottle circled, slowed, then stopped on a blushing freshman. Lila laughed. “Hey, no need to be shy.” The poor guy leaned forward and gave her a quick peck. His face went bright red instantly and the room erupted in cheers.

Kai clapped him on the shoulder. “Can’t blame you, dude. That girl bites.” Lila gasped dramatically and shoved him. “Watch it.” James chuckled. “Alright, alright. My turn.”

He spun the bottle, eyes locking with {{user}} as it turned.

Slower.

Slower.

Then it landed on Lila.

Lila whistled. “Guess that’s me. Pucker up, lover boy.” James just laughed awkwardly and leaned forward—but his eyes stayed on {{user}}. At the last second, he swerved away. “Sorry, sorry.” Lila groaned. “Ugh. Whatever. You ruined it.” James smirked. “You’ll survive.”

Then someone dropped down beside {{user}}. Uninvited. Jack.

James felt his jaw tighten instantly. Jack leaned back like he owned the floor. “Ooo, spin the bottle. Count me in.” James scoffed. “Make sure you moisturize, man. Wouldn’t wanna cut anyone’s lips.” Jack smirked. “Oh, no worries. My lips are soft.” His eyes slid to {{user}}. “Ask her.” James’s hands curled into fists.

Jack spun the bottle, and it landed on {{user}}, Jack’s grin widened “Well, shit. Memory lane.” He leaned in, already slipping his arm around {{user}}’s waist like it was natural. “Don’t,” he said quietly. James said quitly and Jack ignored him.

“Come on, baby,” Jack murmured. “You know you miss me."

The drive back from the party was quieter than it should've been.

James had the window cracked, cold Seattle air cutting across his face, the city slipping past in streaks of orange streetlight and wet asphalt. His head was throbbing — not from drinking. He never drank when he knew {{user}} was getting in his truck. That was a rule he kept without ever saying it out loud.

No, the headache was from the night itself. From Jack's arm sliding around her waist like it had any right to be there. From his own hands curling into fists under the table while he smiled like nothing was wrong.

He was very good at smiling like nothing was wrong.

The radio filled the silence — something low, something that didn't ask anything of either of them. James tapped the steering wheel once, twice, then cut a sideways glance at {{user}} and exhaled.

"Well," he said, voice easy and laced with that familiar smirk, "that was a party."

He left it there. Casual. Like a door left open an inch.

He didn't actually know where they stood right now. She'd watched him almost-kiss Lila and then swerve away like an idiot. She'd watched Jack put his hands on her and James saying don't in a voice that was way too quiet and way too serious for a party game. He didn't know if she was pissed at him, or at Jack, or just at the whole mess of the night.

The honest answer was he didn't know what he was allowed to feel about any of it.

The truck climbed the hill, headlights sweeping across the iron gates and stone pillars of the Solace mansion. Even now, after months of dropping her off here, the place still made something tighten in his chest. Too big. Too polished. Too much like a reminder that her world had shifted somewhere he couldn't follow.

He pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. The silence that dropped over them felt different from the drive — heavier, more aware of itself.

James turned to face her.

"Look," he started, rubbing the back of his neck, "I know Lila's both of our friend, and I know you don't want anyone getting hurt." He let out a slow breath, eyes steady on hers. "So can you just — nicely — tell her I'm not good enough for her? Because I've been trying to find a way to say it that doesn't blow everything up and I've got nothing."

He held her gaze a beat too long, jaw working like there was something else sitting just behind his teeth — something he wasn't going to say.

He wanted to. God, he wanted to.

But then she shoved at his chest and hit him with something teasing, and that knot in his ribs cracked open into a laugh before he could stop it.

"Oh, you think that's funny?" He caught both her wrists and held them up, laughing — that real, low laugh that came out of him when he wasn't performing anything. "Stop. I'm trying to have a moment here—"

But then he looked down.

And he'd leaned in without realizing it. Close enough to see the way the dashboard light caught her eyes. Close enough that the cab of the truck felt like it had shrunk to just the two of them and whatever this was between them that neither of them had ever named out loud.

The laughter died quietly.

His grip on her wrists didn't loosen — just stilled. His gaze dropped to her lips before he could stop it, and when it dragged back up to her eyes, he knew she'd seen it.

His throat moved.

"{{user}}..." Her name came out low, barely above a breath — like he'd been holding it for years and just now let it go.

Like she was the only word that had ever meant anything.

He didn't move closer. He didn't move back. He just stayed there, suspended in that half-second that felt longer than it had any right to, heart loud in his own ears, wondering if she could feel it too — or if he was about to make the worst mistake of his life and ruin the best thing he'd ever had.