Page 26 of No Going Back

“Baby,” I say, voice low enough for just us, “it’s too hot for me to care about some desperate college girls looking at me.”

Remy freezes, eyes wide, not moving.

I frown and laugh at the same time. “What?”

He’s staring like I just grew a second head. I grab another water bottle from the cooler, twist the cap, and dump it straight over his head.

He yelps. “Oh my… what the fuck, Cole?!”

Water’s streaming down his face, soaking his jersey, hair plastered flat.

I laugh so hard I have to hold my stomach. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel better.”

Tyler jogs over, soaked too, jersey off now, bare chest gleaming, because of course he took it off; the guy will flirt with anything that moves. “Coach says we can leave early today. Too hot to carry on.”

“Oh good. I’m gonna have the fan on all night.”

“Anyway,” Tyler says, clapping my shoulder, “see you two tomorrow at Jeb’s!”

I pat his back as he runs off with a couple others.

Remy’s still staring, eyes locked on me, wide and stunned.

I frown again. “I think you need to cool off. Come on.”

He follows quietly, obedient, like a dog doing exactly what it’s told. Not talking.

We get back to the dorm; thank fuck Hannah isn’t back from her classes yet. She’s actually been going again; she likely won’t be let out early like us. The room’s quiet, cool and safe. I peel my soaked jersey off, toss it into the laundry hamper near the hallway, and push my wet hair back with both hands.

I turn to Remy. “Arms up.”

He doesn’t move. I shake my head at whatever’s got him frozen like this, hoping it’s not heat stroke or some shit.

I tug at the hem of his jersey. “Baby, come on, arms up. You’re soaked.”

His eyes flick around my face, bright red creeping up his neck. But he finally lifts his arms. I pull the jersey off him, wet fabric sticking, peeling away slowly. His chest is flushed, nipples hard from the sudden cold air. I toss it in the hamper too. Then I drag him to the couch, flick the big standing fan on high, the cool breeze hits like mercy. I slump down and he drops beside me. I groan at the relief. Remy clears his throat and holds his palm out. I don’t hesitate to intertwine our fingers and squeeze once.

He squeezes back. “You…”

I turn my head, waiting for him to finish. The fan blows through my hair, drying it in messy strands.

“You called me baby,” he says quietly. “Twice.”

Heat creeps up my neck. “Do I apologise or…?”

He shakes his head fast. “No. I just… wasn’t prepared.”

I grin. “It just slipped out.”

He huffs a laugh, blushing harder. “You’re obsessed with me.”

I roll my eyes. “If you say so.”

But I don’t let go of his hand.

9

Remy