The snow has picked up and thick snowflakes fall from the sky, making it hard to see anything.

“Why’d you turn it off?” I ask, tucking my hands into my jacket pockets.

“Because my mother kept sending me texts.”

“Apologies, I hope.”

He lets out a hollow laugh as he kicks the tip of his boot at the snow on the ground. “Yeah, right. More like threats.”

I stop under the shelter of a tree and grab his arm, forcing him to look at me. “She’s threatening you?”

He shrugs it off. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard. I can’t ever come home again. Blah, blah, blah.” He rolls his eyes, pretending to be unaffected.

“I’m sorry, but your mother’s a bitch.”

“Oh, that she is.” He pulls the hood of his jacket over his head. “Can we talk about something else, though? I promise I’m not running away from the problem. I just need a break from it.”

“You’re okay, though, right?” I question, knowing I’d be anything but okay had I suffered everything he’s been through.

“Oddly enough, I kind of am. Between telling my mother off and confronting Braiden, I have this strange sense of closure. Like I’ve made peace with what I can’t change and I feel like I’m ready to move on.”

I give his hand a squeeze. “You know I’m here if you ever need to talk, vent, punch something, whatever.”

He chuckles, his eyes lighting up for the first time since I walked into his room. “Punch something?”

“Yeah, as a way to get it out. You’d be surprised how therapeutic it can be.”

“Thanks for the offer, but physically exerting myself doesn’t sound like much fun. I would, however, love to go dancing. I haven’t done that in a while.”

“Okay,” I respond, unsure as to whether he wants me to accompany him since he’s been so hesitant about it in the past.

“I definitely need to get something to eat first.” He pats his stomach. “I’m starving.”

I nod my head toward the parking lot. “Let’s go, then. Like I said, the day is yours.”

We hike across the snow for the car, our shoes crunching against the frostbitten grass. The snowfall is thinning, making it easier to see. When I notice a couple of guys heading up the sidewalk, I’m prepared for Seth to pull his hand out of mine, like he always does when we’re around other people, but as the guys get closer, he only grips tighter. I can feel his anxiety when his palm starts to sweat and his pulse begins hammering against my fingertips, and though his gaze remains locked on his snow-covered car, he keeps glancing at the guys out the corner of his eye.

A few of them look in our direction and openly stare, but, thankfully, no one opens their mouth and we make it to the car without any problems. The last thing Seth needs is for drama to unfold during his first attempt at putting himself out there.

“Where should we eat?” Seth’s fingers tremble as he fumbles to get the keys in the ignition.

“Hey, just breathe.” I settle my hand on his arm to steady him. “You did good.”

When his gaze meets mine, he nods unsteadily, and I can’t help myself. I lean over and kiss him and he kisses me back, almost in desperation, sliding his tongue into my mouth. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and I can feel his stubble under my hand as I rub his cheek and press him closer.

“I missed you,” I say when I pull back, a little breathless.

“I missed you, too,” he admits, backing out of the parking space.

“My mom said you should come to Florida with me for Christmas,” I tell him. “But I have to warn you, you’ll likely spend most of the visit getting your palm read, your cards read, and your dreams interpreted.”

“That sounds fun.”

“So, you’ll come?”

He scratches his forehead then flips the wipers on high speed. “Yeah, that actually sounds nice.” His voice shakes nervously. “I hope they like me, though.”

“Of course they will.” I buckle my seatbelt and relax back in the seat. “In fact, I’m pretty sure my mom already does.”

“How? She’s never even met me.”

“She says I seem happy and gave you the credit for that.”

He smiles at this, looking a little baffled.

We spend the next couple hours eating dinner and searching for a club that’s open on a holiday weekend, which turns out to be an unsuccessful endeavor. Every club worth going to is closed, so we end up heading to my apartment and playing a drinking game. Five or six shots in, my veins are buzzing with just enough alcohol that I decide it’s a good idea to crank up some music and turn my living room into a club.

We start dancing, laughing and grinding our hips, feeling each other’s bodies, and the laughter quickly turns to a heavy make out session. Shirts and jeans get stripped off and somehow we make it into the bedroom. Things start to get extremely hot, and I have no intention of stopping until I spot the fear on Seth’s face.

“Should I stop?” I ask through ragged breaths.

His chest crashes into mine as he fights to breathe. “I just need a moment.”

Nodding, I push back and sit down on the edge of the bed. Gripping onto the mattress, I struggle to get air into my lungs, trying to calm myself the fuck down.

“I’m sorry,” Seth mutters from behind me.

“No, you’re fine.” I suck in another breath before rotating around, and I instantly regret facing him. He’s still wearing only his boxers, his blonde hair is sticking up all over the place, and I instantly get hard.