“I got you,” Mason promises, smoothing his palms down my arms. Goosebumps rise along my skin despite the pool being heated.
I close my eyes, trusting him completely.
With a deep breath, I push off the wall, gliding forward under his gentle guidance. My chest rises and falls as I focus on keeping my head above water, my legs kicking in sync with his instructions. His hands brush along my sides, correcting my form as I approach the deep end. Even though my feet can’t touch the bottom, I know I’m completely safe with him.
Because with Mason, the unknown doesn’t feel like drowning. It feels like a vast and shimmering possibility, waiting for us to dive into it together.
Epilogue
Mason
My curls refuse to cooperate, springing out in every direction no matter how much product I use. I rake my fingers through the mess, trying to coax some order into it. Somehow, the strands end up even frizzier.
Great. Perfect way to start my first day of school.
Behind me, the apartment is quiet except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan and Hunter’s steady breathing from the bedroom. He’s still sprawled across the sheets, dead asleep after staying up late last night, hunched over his laptop with stacks of notes. I don’t know how he does it—balancing TA work, his research, and everything else without collapsing.
His discipline never ceases to amaze me. He’s so intelligent, so sure of himself, and I envy that. Because the truth is, I’m terrified.
I’m a twenty-two-year-old man taking sophomore level courses. Everyone else will be younger, laughing about dorm parties and clubs I’ll never be part of. I feel like an impostor sneaking into a place I don’t belong.
Hunter keeps telling me it doesn’t matter, that everyone’s timeline is different. Though I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve already fallen too far behind my peers—that I’m destined to fail before I even start.
I lean over the sink, pressing my palms to the cool porcelain, staring myself down in the mirror. My reflection looks tense and tired, already defeated.
And then, arms slip around my waist.
I jolt, caught off guard, but the familiar weight of Hunter’s chest presses against my back, his breath brushing the curve of my neck. He must’ve dragged himself out of bed while I was spiraling.
His hair sticks up in wild cowlicks, his hands chilled against my bare stomach. He’s always cold in the mornings. He’s wearing one of my sweatshirts, the gray fabric soft with age, the sleeves drooping past his fingertips as he holds me closer.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I murmur.
Hunter hums against my shoulder, the sound low and sleepy. “You didn’t. I could just feel you worrying from the other room.”
I huff out something halfway between a laugh and a sigh, leaning back against him.
“Stop stressing. You’re gonna be fine,” he says, voice still scratchy with sleep.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” He rests his chin on my shoulder and pulls me closer. “You’ve worked your ass off to get here, and I’m proud of you, sunshine. So damn proud.”
I shut my eyes, letting his words sink past the wall of nerves. His presence is steady, grounding. For the first time all morning, I let myself breathe.
“Your first class is International Relations, right? What time does it start?” Hunter asks quietly.
I swallow hard. “Eight thirty, in Thompson Hall.”
“Cool. I’ll walk with you.”
My brows scrunch together. “You don’t have to do that. It’s a short walk, and it’s freezing outside—”
“All the more reason for me to walk with you,” he insists, brushing a quick kiss against my cheek. “Finish getting dressed. I’ll make you some coffee.”
He gives my butt a playful pat before shuffling out of the bathroom, his sock-covered feet soft against the laminate floor.
I change quickly, tugging on jeans and a beige cable-knit sweater. I add a spritz of cologne for good measure, the woodsy scent lingering in the air.
