CAIN RAVEN

The hallway smells like cheap vanilla candles, burnt popcorn, and the kind of desperation that only exists in a dorm at midnight. Somewhere to the left, a girl's laughing too loud at her own joke. Somewhere to the right, a couple's either fucking or fighting knowing this building, probably both at the same time.

Cain doesn't care.

He's on a mission. A simple one. Get in, grab the chain, get out. The chain being a custom cuban link his father gave him for his eighteenth because nothing says I don't know you, but here's money like fourteen karats and a broken latch. He'd left it at SiSi's weeks ago, back when he still pretended she wasn't batshit insane. Back when he thought he could end things clean.

He can't.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He ignores it. Buzzes again. Then again. He already knows who it is. SiSi. Probably sending another paragraph about how she forgives him for being emotional and how they're still meant to be. Fucking delusional.

He pulls out his phone just to silence it and sees the notification:

SiSi 💋: I know you're in the building. I can feel it. SiSi 💋: Come to my room. I'm not wearing anything you'd be allowed to see in public.

He scoffs, shoves the phone back into his jeans, and mutters under his breath: "Jesus Christ, I'd rather raw-dog a cactus."

A door opens down the hall. Some kid in a bathrobe steps out holding a fish. A literal fucking fish. They make eye contact. Neither says a word. The kid backs into his room slowly, like Cain's the weird one here.

"Nice goldfish, dipshit," Cain calls after him. "Hope it puts out."

The kid slams the door. Cain grins. Small victories.

He keeps walking. Room 404. That's hers. SiSi's. He's sure of it. Or at least, he was sure when he started. But his head's still foggy from the two pre-game shots and the punch some freshman probably spat in. Doesn't matter. He needs his chain, and then he's out. Maybe he'll hit the party after. Maybe he'll just drive.

Not now.

He stops at the door. Doesn't knock. Why would he? He's still got half a mind to scare SiSi shitless just to see that ridiculous pout she does when she's trying to be sexy but lands somewhere between "constipated" and "sentient mannequin."

He turns the handle. Unlocked.

"Dumb as always, Si," he mutters, pushing the door open. "One of these days I'm gonna get stabbed in here, and it's gonna be your fault."

The room smells different. Not her. Not that aggressive cloud of vanilla body spray SiSi uses like chemical warfare. This is softer. Warmer. Clean.

He steps inside, already annoyed.

"Si, I told you to stop texting me that needy bullsh"

He stops.

Dead. Frozen.

Because standing in front of him isn't SiSi. It's her. And around her on the bed, the floor, the back of the chair is a spread of outfits that make his brain short-circuit.

Lace. Leather. Sheer fabric. Little skirts. Straps. Thigh-highs still in the package. And there, right on the corner of the bed, that black set from the photo he's looked at approximately seven hundred times this month.

The photo without a face.

The blog he found by accident and never left.

The girl he's imagined in every position known to man and a few he'd invented just for her.

He blinks. Looks at her. Then back at the clothes. Then back at her.

His lips part. He almost says something normal. Something like shit, wrong room or my bad.

Instead, he steps inside, kicks the door shut behind him, and locks it.

And then he smile slow, lazy, dangerous.

"Well, well, well." He tilts his head, voice dropping to something low and full of trouble. "You're not SiSi. Thank fuck for that."

He takes a step closer, eyes dragging over the mess of fabric like it's Christmas morning and she's the fucking tree.

"So either you're a fan with excellent taste, or..." He picks up the black lace from the bed, thumb running over the delicate edge. "...you're the reason I've been up at 3 a.m. with my hand around my cock and no idea what your face looked like."

He lets the fabric fall. His eyes lift to hers.

"Guess the face was worth the wait."

He takes another step. Closer now. Too close for polite. Exactly close enough for what he's thinking.

"So, sweetheart." He leans against the edge of her desk, arms crossed, chains glinting, grin still in place. "Which one do I get to watch you put on first?"

His phone buzzes again in his pocket. SiSi. Still alive. Still delusional. Still irrelevant.

He doesn't even look at it. Just reaches down, silences it without checking.

Because right now, the only thing in the world worth his attention is standing right in front of him surrounded by sin, dressed in secrets, and looking at him like she can't decide whether to slap him or let him stay.

He's fine with either.

"Take your time," he says, voice a little softer, but not too much. "I'm not going anywhere."

The bus smells like sweat, Red Bull, and bad decisions. Someone's already cracked a beer in the back like we're not supposed to notice a freshman with more balls than brains. Good for him.

I've got my AirPods in, but I'm not listening to anything. Just watching. Waiting. She's three rows up, next to the window, earbuds in, head turned toward the glass. The sunset's hitting her just right — all gold and soft — and I'm sitting here trying not to think about how good she'd look in that little black number from the other night.

You know the one. The one I can't stop thinking about. The one she definitely knows I can't stop thinking about, because she keeps catching me looking and pretending she doesn't.

Cute.

I glance across the aisle. Dex is already asleep, head against the glass, headphones on, arms crossed like he's guarding a secret. Cade's tossing chips into Brody's mouth from three seats away, and Brody's missing on purpose just to make Cade look stupid. Every time one hits him in the face, Brody just stares at him like he's deciding whether to murder him now or later.

"Better aim, asshole," Brody mutters.

"Better mouth, dipshit," Cade fires back.

Somewhere behind us, two girls are arguing about horoscopes with deadly seriousness. One of them says, "As a Gemini rising, I feel like you're not respecting my energy." The other says, "Bitch, I'm a Virgo. I don't respect anyone."

I laugh. Not because it's funny. Because this whole trip already feels like a hostage situation with extra steps.

I look at her again. Still watching the window. Still ignoring me. That's fine. I'll break her eventually. I'm patient when I want to be.

My phone buzzes.

SiSi 💋: Miss me yet? Me: Like a tumor. SiSi 💋: Aww. You're so sweet when you lie.

I don't answer. Somewhere between the second and third hour, the bus turns off the main road and the energy shifts. The road gets darker. The music gets louder. And then we're pulling into one of those motels that looks like it was nice in 1979 and just never caught up. Big neon sign flickering like it's about to die. Cars parked in a row. That weird smell of asphalt and chlorine and regret.

"Welcome to the Roadside Palms," someone behind me says, voice fake-cheerful. "Five stars. If you're counting stars from a gas station."

We all file off. The air's hot and sticky. Somewhere far off, a dog's barking. Somewhere closer, a guy's screaming at a vending machine. Classic.

That's when I see her. My girl. Not mine yet, but soon. Her hands are wrapped around the strap of her bag, and she's looking at me like I already did something wrong. Which I haven't. Yet.

I slip through the crowd, all casual, like I'm not about to ruin her whole night in the best possible way.

"Fun fact," I say, falling into step beside her. "I got us a room."

She looks at me. I already know what she's thinking.

"Before you ask," I go on, "it was a mistake. A beautiful, cosmic, totally planned mistake. Co-ed. One room. One bed."

I let that sink in.

"And I paid the coach to make sure of it."

It's not true. I didn't pay him. I paid his assistant. But same difference.

Before she can answer, a voice cuts through the parking lot like nails on a chalkboard.

"Cain! There you are!"

And there she is. SiSi. Dressed like she's on a red carpet, not a university trip. Towering heels, too much jewelry, that smile that makes my balls try to crawl back inside my body.

She's holding a key card between two fingers like it's a winning lottery ticket.

"I fixed the room situation," she says, stepping way too close. "We're together now. All three of us." She looks at the girl next to me and smiles like a shark. "Hope you don't snore, sweetie."

I blink.

"Wait. What?"

"The rooms got mixed up," SiSi says with a little shrug. "Don't worry. I talked to the front desk. You and I are in room 12. And your little friend here..." She pauses, clearly savoring it. "...is with us. One bed. So cozy."

I look at her. Then at SiSi. Then back at her.

"Absolutely not."

"Aw, don't be like that." SiSi pouts. "It's just one night. What's the big deal? Unless you two had plans or something." She laughs, light and fake, like she just said something adorable.

I want to pick her up and throw her into the pool. Or maybe just throw her. The pool's optional.

"SiSi," I say, voice calm but tight. "There are forty rooms in this motel."

"And only one of them has you in it." She winks. "And now two lucky girls."

Somewhere behind me, Cade whistles low. Brody mutters, "That's some serial killer math." Dex just walks by, not even looking, and says, "Don't kill her. I'm too tired for court."

I laugh. I don't mean to. But it's funny. It's all so fucking ridiculous.

I turn back to her my girl, not the nightmare in heels and lean in, voice low enough that only she can hear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll sleep on the floor."

I pause.

"Unless you get cold. Then I'll suffer through it."

I grin. She probably w always said the best foreplay is wanting to commit murder and not acting on it.

SiSi's already walking toward the room, her heels clicking like tiny hammers. I watch her go, then look back at the girl beside me.

"Fair warning," I say, "she's gonna talk all night. Probably about herself. Probably about me. Probably about you. She might even try to braid your hair."

I start walking after SiSi, then glance over my shoulder.

"You coming, roomie?"

The neon light of the motel flickers. Somewhere a vending machine gets kicked. The night is hot and weird and full of bad choices.

And I'm about to share a bed with the one girl I can't stop thinking about plus the one I can't get rid of.

What could possibly go wrong?

The fair came out of nowhere.

One day it's just an empty lot by the highway, next day there's a ferris wheel spinning slow against the sky, neon lights, the smell of fried dough and sugar, and a guy with no shirt trying to win a giant stuffed Pikachu by throwing darts at balloons. America, baby.

She said yes.

Not to the fair, exactly. To me. Kind of. We're in that weird in-between stage where I still have to pretend I'm not completely gone for her, and she still pretends she's not either. But we're here. Together. And that's enough to make me walk around like I already won.

But of course, nothing's ever just us. Because behind me, like always, are the three idiots I call brothers.

Dex is walking with his hands in his pockets, looking at everything like it owes him money. Cade's already holding a corn dog like it's a weapon. Brody's ignoring us all, eyes locked on some booth where you climb a rope ladder and win a hundred bucks if you make it to the top without falling.

"I could do that," Brody says.

"You'd break the ladder," Cade says around a mouthful of corn dog.

"I'd break you."

"Save it for the bedroom, you two," I say, slinging an arm over her shoulder. "We're on a date. Try not to embarrass me."

Dex snorts. "You do that fine on your own."

I ignore him. She's got this little smile on her face, the one she tries to hide when she thinks I'm being too much. I like that smile. I want to see it more.

"Alright," I say, squeezing her shoulder. "First stop — something with sugar. Then something that goes fast. Then maybe I'll win you something ugly and you'll have to carry it around all night."

"Romantic," she says.

"I try."

We split off, sort of. The guys stay close because it's more fun to heckle each other than to actually do anything meaningful. Cade wants to ride the thing that spins until you puke. Brody wants to punch the strongman game. Dex wants to find the most overpriced whiskey and stand in a corner like Batman.

And me? I want her all to myself, but I'll settle for this. The lights. The noise. The way her eyes light up when we pass the caramel apple stand.

"I knew it," I say, already steering her toward the line. "You've got a sweet tooth. I can tell."

"How?"

"Because you keep looking at me like you want a bite."

She laughs. Actually laughs. And I feel like I just won something way better than a stuffed animal.

We get two caramel apples, and she's trying not to make a mess, and I'm watching her lick sugar off her lip and wondering if it's too early to pull her behind the funhouse and kiss her until neither of us can think straight.

Probably. But I'm not known for my self-control.

"I want to win you something," I say, finishing the apple and wiping my hands on my jeans. "Not because I'm good at carnival games. Because I want to watch the guy's face when I hit the target so hard it breaks."

We pass a ring toss, some game with water guns, and a booth where you throw baseballs at milk bottles. That one's rigged. They're all rigged. But I stop anyway.

"Three balls," the carnie says, barely looking up. "Knock 'em down, win a prize."

"Watch this," I tell her, and I don't know why, but I'm grinning like an idiot. Maybe it's the sugar. Maybe it's her.

I throw the first ball. Smash. Two bottles down. Second ball. Smash. Last one wobbles but stays. I feel her hand on my arm, and I swear to God, I almost forget how to throw.

Third ball. Miss. Not even close.

"Rigged," I say, stepping back.

"Watch it," I say, but I'm smiling. "I'll win you the biggest, ugliest bear here. Just for that."

That's when I hear it. That voice.

"Cain! Baby!"

Ah, fuck.

SiSi's there, of course. Holding a giant stuffed unicorn, glitter on her cheeks, like she's been waiting for her cue. She walks up like she's on a runway, hips swaying so hard I'm surprised she doesn't dislocate something.

"I didn't know you were coming tonight," she says, ignoring my girl completely. "You should've told me. We could've come together."

"I'm here with someone," I say flatly.

SiSi glances at her then, slow and cold, before smiling again. "That's okay. I'll join you. The more, the merrier."

Before I can tell her to get lost, Cade appears, holding a giant turkey leg and looking way too happy about it.

"Did somebody say drama? I love drama."

Brody walks up, arms full of cotton candy. "I didn't sign up for this."

Dex is the last to join, holding a small paper cup of something dark. He looks at SiSi, then at me, then at my girl. He sighs.

"Every time," he mutters. "Every single time."

SiSi claps her hands. "Let's ride the ferris wheel! All of us! It's perfect."

No, it's not. It's the opposite of perfect. But Cade's already walking toward it, and Brody looks like he'd rather eat glass but follows anyway, and Dex just shrugs at me like, you did this to yourself.

The room looks like a tornado hit a lingerie store. There's lace on the lamp, silk on the floor, and a pair of heels dangling off the edge of my desk like they're waiting for the rest of the outfit. I don't even know how we got here. One minute I was kissing her against the door, the next she's holding up two options and asking me which one says "ruin your life in the best way."

I've never been happier.

"Okay, hold on," I say, sitting up on the bed, elbows on my knees, looking around at the chaos. "This one." I point to a little black thing with straps that go everywhere and nowhere. "With the red ones. Trust me."

She's looking at me like she's already planning to ignore my advice. Good. I like when she fights me a little.

"Think about it," I say, leaning back on my hands. "The lighting in here's shit, but the window at golden hour? Fucking perfect. You sit on the floor, back against the bed, legs crossed, that little skirt barely doing its job. I'll shoot from above. Moodier. More mystery. No face, just vibe. Your followers will lose their goddamn minds."

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Then again. Then another one. I don't even look. I know exactly who it is. SiSi's been texting me all day paragraphs, voice notes, one very unhinged selfie with the caption thinking of you. I left it on read. I'm not giving her a single second of my time when I've got the only girl I want sitting right here, surrounded by the kind of outfits that should come with a warning label.

"I'm serious," I say, getting up and moving to the dresser. "We do this right, you'll break the internet. And I'll be the asshole in the background going, 'yeah, that's my girl, and yes, she's wearing what I picked.'"

I pull open the top drawer and take out my good camera the one I don't let Cade borrow after he filmed himself eating a hot dog and called it art. I check the lens, mess with the settings, pretend I know more than I do. I know enough. I know what looks good. And I know she looks good in everything.

"We can do a whole series," I say, turning back to her. "Start with this one. Soft light, low angle. Then maybe something in the hall before anyone wakes up. That's the secret, you know. The tease. Leave them wanting. Don't show too much. Just enough to ruin their sleep."

I grin, crossing to her, tilting her chin up with two fingers.

"Or don't listen to me. Wear the green one and we'll shoot it against my car. But then I can't be held responsible for what happens after."

My phone buzzes again. This time it actually falls off the nightstand from vibrating so hard. I don't move. I don't flinch. I just keep looking at her.

"You know what I love about this?" I say, voice lower now. "You didn't stop. You kept posting. Kept doing your thing. Now you're here, in my room, in my bed, and you're still doing it. I'm not gonna cage that. I'm gonna hold the camera."

I lean in, close enough to kiss, but I don't. Not yet.

"Now tell me which one you're feeling. And don't say none. I saw the way you looked at the black one."

A door slams somewhere in the house. Cade's yelling about someone eating his leftovers. Brody's telling him to shut up. Dex is probably pretending he doesn't live here.

And through it all, my phone keeps buzzing. SiSi. Still. Always.

I finally glance at it, just for a second, then back at her.

"You know what the best part is?" I say, running my thumb along her jaw. "I'm exactly where I want to be. You, me, and a room full of bad decisions."

I step back, raise the camera, and point it at her.

"Now smile. Or don't. Just be you. I'll take care of the rest."

...