"Allie."

Allie.

The way he said my name, typically from an irritated rumble deep in his chest or an annoyed quip from the tip of his tongue, had always made my skin jump and core roil.

But having his lips pressed against mine when he said it. When my name was coming from that rumble deep in his chest while the tip of his tongue slid inside my mouth. It had me quivering with unruly desire.

My thoughts were everywhere and nowhere when he kissed me. I was constantly wondering how. How had I been with so many guys, yet not one of them made me feel like this.

It didn't make sense. Was I just being delusional right now? Was I making this out to be more than it was? Was I so far gone that Tyler was just a fairytale that I was indulging in?

But then there were moments where my mind felt placid and free and...nothing. All I could process was the feeling of his hands gripping my waist, like I was the steering wheel of his favorite car. Or his lips grazing the spot below my ear, like his breath was the ocean and my skin was the sand.

Or his fingers brushing against the underwire of my bra, teasing me. Because he's an asshole.

Just not like this, he had said. He was playing dirty. It was fucking rude.

It only made me kiss him harder.

"Allie," he repeated, this time with more conviction. Frustration.

I let out a grumble of curse words but continued tasting him, sucking and biting at his taut neck.

In response to my choice words and continued onslaught of kisses, he let out a familiar grumble that held warning, "You're going to have to put your shirt back on, otherwise I don't know if I can stay here much longer."

My lips, pursed while sucking on his neck, stopped. I couldn't help but let out a haughty laugh, even though my lower half was protesting with a throbbing desire. I let my head drop back and my arms retreat from around his neck with a conceding huff.

In one swift movement, he rolled off my body to lie beside me. Though one of his hands never left my shoulder, beginning to trace small designs on my skin.

I turned my head to look at him, to meet a hazel gaze that had already been transfixed on me. He was clearly struggling with where to look—my eyes, my shoulder, or my chest.

"You know," I started, my voice lazy with pleasure and drunk from his kisses. "I've never heard of a guy asking a girl to put her clothes back on."

Tyler's eyes closed, although I saw them roll into the back of his head as he removed his hand from my shoulder and turned on his back to refocus his gaze on the ceiling. "Yeah. Pretty sure I was dropped on the head as a child."

His sarcasm made my cheeks instantly ache from the smile that reigned over my lips. The corners of my eyes strained. I felt a wrinkle forming above my brow. A happy wrinkle. Right above my recently birthed stress wrinkle. I sat up, but turned to give him a quick wink before hopping off my bed to find a shirt to sleep in. "I think you turned out alright."

Now at my dresser, I remembered I was also still in jeans. I grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts before whipping around to look at Tyler, about to make a joke if he wanted to borrow my clothes to sleep in.

But my mouth fell agape and remained empty of words—just a hollow cave of stagnant air. He wasn't doing anything crazy. In fact, he hadn't moved from his spot on the bed, other than the fact that he was sitting up now.

But his eyes—his eyes... they were that rare color of grey, brown, and green perfectly melded together like a metal that held so much energy, it should be included on the periodic table.

And those pupils—those powerful, compelling, dynamic marbles of black—were staring at me with awe. Like I was the rare element. Like I was the last ingredient to a chemical reaction that made even the most uninspired smile with delight.

"What?" I asked breathlessly, pressing the t-shirt to my chest to cover myself. I didn't feel exposed—just, suddenly, unsure.

The small smile that had been etched onto Tyler's lips as he examined me wavered. He spoke in a rushed voice, barely finishing the sentence before his face tinted pink. "It still just blows my mind that you like me."

His words stunned me and warmed me all at the same time. I sucked my cheeks in to resist a smile, although I probably looked like a child imitating a fish with how hard I had to pull in. The rosy sheen that caressed his skin only made me want to tease him more. "I never said I like you."

Tyler gave me a pointed look and I threw my favorite sleep shirt over my head—a t-shirt that went to my mid-thigh, with the words LAKE TAHOE written across the bust, that I got from the last family vacation we went on. Two years ago, after Aaron graduated high school. We spent the a week that summer enjoying everything that lake had to offer. Hours spent on the dock outside the house we rented—fishing, boating, swimming, kayaking, jet skiing, sunbathing. We were happy then.

...were we? I thought we were, at the time. Now, I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure what was real or fake. What was good or bad.

Were we actually a happy family on that trip? Or was I just too involved in myself to see what was right in front of me?

Tyler's eyes tightened on me, shaking me from my mind's tipsy ramblings. I slipped out of my jeans, knowing my shirt was long enough to shroud anything that might arouse Tyler. I had to stop my own eyes from rolling at the thought. A guy that wanted me to. Cover. Up.

I don't know if I'd ever get over that.

Just as I slipped on my pajama shorts, Tyler's voice brought my eyes back to him.

"No offense," he started, smirking. My eyes slanted at him. It was my smirk. And I wanted to wipe it off of his lips. With mine. "But you don't have to. It's been pretty obvious for a while now."

I scoffed, letting my t-shirt fall back down to hang around my thighs so only the very bottom hem of my shorts poked out. "No, it has not."

His eyebrows raised and he placed his palms behind him on my duvet, leaning back confidently. His scanned me, his eyes pulling me apart limb by limb, and his silence might as well have been a scream.

"Oh really?" I spat, somewhat playfully, somewhat embarrassed. I moved towards him with a slight stomp in my heels. "Fine then. Since you're oh so smart, when did you realize I, apparently, liked you?"

I was standing in front of him now. Our positions switched from earlier. Now it was him, lying on the bed supported by his elbows. Meanwhile I stood, glaring at him.

His smile remained unfazed. His entire body did, in fact—despite my words and movement. The only change was the slight shift in his eyes, from green to grey. From lust and curiosity to mischief and authority.

"Easy. The day you got a 98 on your Spanish test."

"What?" The word slipped out of my mouth too quickly. Of all the things I was expecting him to say, nowhere did I think 'Spanish test' was involved. I tried to mask my face with indifference, although Tyler's was the visual definition of entertained. It was maybe the longest amount of time I'd ever seen him smile—even if it was a cocky one. I insisted, "Why?"

I could feel the air tense around him as his pupils dilated, focusing on me with intent that made my feet shuffle beneath me. His voice came out low—a familiar tone that made the strings of my heart tangle with each other in my chest. "You had this look in your eye that I'd never seen from you before. When you showed me your test, that 98, it was like I was the only person in your world. And all that mattered was how I felt or what I thought."

My chest constricted and my throat felt like a long, dark, terrifying hallway that my words had to weather just I could speak. They were raspy, but I was okay with that, because at least I was able to form a sentence at all. "That seems a bit dramatic."

Tyler's rolled his bottom lip into his mouth like he was holding back a laugh. I almost groaned. I wanted that lip. My fidgeting feet were now rooted to the floor, my legs cleched together, as he said in a sugary voice, "Well, it was also a dead giveaway that you clearly didn't actually need my help when you got a nearly perfect grade after only two study sessions."

I winced, thinking back on how the events unfolded. Claiming I was failing, then turning around and making one of the best grades I'd ever gotten in my high school career. "Mm, yeah. I didn't think that one through."

I'd never seen this boy so amused extended period of time. Amused by me. He stared at me like he was in the midst of an electrifying concert watching his favorite band perform.

Me. He was watching me.

"What was your grade in the class when you asked for my help?" he pried curiously, although he seemed more excited than inquisitive.

I stared down at my feet, feeling maybe a little too exposed. His digs were beginning to wear on me. "Like, a B+."

Any doubt or discomfort washed out of me by the sound of his laugh. It wasn't his usual chuckle or snicker. It was sourced by the purest happiness, uncontainable and erupting from somewhere deep inside him. Somewhere I hadn't yet seen. A new part of him I had yet to discover. As if there weren't already so many hidden corners to him that I had yet to explore.

I knew immediately this was the one though. This was a corner within him that I was going to prioritize finding. Then exploring. Then enjoying.

"You suck," he said on a hasty breath as his laugh dwindled out like a dying flame.

I was suddenly agitated. I didn't want it to die. Where was the fire poker? Where was the wood? Fuck it, where was the goddamn gasoline?

You could hear the turmoil in my voice as I said, "Well, I got to you, didn't I?"

He could sense it. He could sense my unrest immediately, that I was now frustrated—as if my boiling sexual frustration wasn't enough. How could he see through me so clearly?

His smile softened and he leaned forward. I inhaled hard enough for the room to practically echo when his fingers latched onto mine, pulling me toward him until we were both laying down beside each other. If I wasn't so unnerved by his deliberate actions, his confident control, I would be fuming that I was beside him, not on top of him.

I was surprised though when my anger calmed as he pulled me into his chest, one arm slipping behind my head almost like a pillow, while the other softly ran up and down my arm, like a slow see-saw, lingering at each end for a moment.

I swallowed hard and pushed my nose a little further into his shirt, taking in its scent. It didn't smell like anything in particular. It just smelled like him. "When did you realize that you liked me?"

Tyler's rhythmic movements along my arm stopped for a brief moment. I wasn't sure if he was startled or just thinking. But he soon resumed his steady movements and answered me. "Your holiday party."

"What?!" I let out a loud gasp, my voice traveling across the room as I slightly moved away from him so we could look into each other's eyes. They were perfectly hazel. Content. I pushed my tongue against the back of my teeth to stop it from darting into his mouth. "Damn. I was hoping I got you sooner than that."

Tyler chuckled and his eyes closed—like he was surprised, yet not surprised at all. His arm underneath my head shifted slightly so I had no choice but to coil back into him. "It's not a competition, princess."

A nickname I always hated so much. Yet now, oddly, I liked the sound of it coming from him.

"What about you?" he murmured. "When did you realize it?"

My cheeks immediately flushed. By the way my body heat jumped what had to be no less than one hundreds of degrees, I'm sure they were crimson. I shook my head, ducking my chin to my chest like maybe I could just disappear for this moment.

"Al."

His voice was practically a whisper—soft and caring. The vulnerability of his tone gave me the courage to at least confess, "It's embarrassing."

His hand was suddenly curled around my chin, careful yet demanding as he maneuvered my face to the perfect position to meet his gaze. His eyes were like a child's on Christmas morning—light and anticipatory and indignant. "Tell me."

"No, it's—"

I swore the bed fell out from under me because I was flying. Every time he kissed me, I felt like the butterflies in my stomach roared to a strength that surpassed gravitational pull. He unlocked our lips sooner than I would have liked and I felt myself lean in as he moved away, chasing after the feeling of pure ecstasy his touch gave me.

Who wouldn't?

"Tell me," He repeated, this time his voice lower, taunting. I gathered what little strength I had to meet his gaze and I almost regretted it. He looked drunk, but not off alcohol. He looked drunk off me. I only regretted it because it made me want to rip his clothes off. But he wanted me to cover up.

I'd come to the conclusion that the only reasonable explanation for it was that he was a psychopath. That had to be it.

Tyler recaptured my focus when his tongue darted across his lips. I naturally mirrored the gesture, but he was quick. His mouth captured it in between his lips, sucking and pulling at it with tenacity until I moaned. I tried to move on top of him but his hand splayed across my collarbone—sending a shiver through me that had my muscles limp for a few seconds—to keep me against the bed beside him.

I don't think I'd ever kissed a guy this many times before in such a short amount of time with my clothes on. And while I'd imagined how Tyler would act in this situation, not once did I consider that he could be such a fucking tease.

His hand stayed heavy against my collarbone, holding me down against the duvet, as his lips, then his face, moved away. His eyes were a carnal green staring down at me. He made the unusual sound of a growl and a plea when he insisted with finality, "Tell me."

I felt weak beneath him—under his hand, his stare. And while I didn't necessarily like it, I, surprisingly, didn't hate it either. "Don't laugh."

His lips twitched with amusement and his fingers softened against my skin as he took a deep breath. It was clearly needed by the way his body shook from the cool air hitting his lungs. His mouth remained closed, but his eyes were practically yelling at me.

I took in my own shuddered breath and clasped my hands together against my stomach as I tucked my chin, my eyes anywhere but him. "That day, when I climbed into your car..."

Tyler's thumb began to swipe at my collarbone.

"Stop," I said with all sincerity. Every muscle in his body froze. With a shaky hand I reached up and clasped my fingers around his large knuckles, sliding his hand off my collarbone to rest against my shoulder instead. In the quietest of murmurs, I disclosed vital information that could easily be used against me, "That's my weak spot."

My eyes snapped shut. I waited with bated breath for his laughter, his teasing, his hand to move back to my collarbone as he tortured me.

He didn't though. Instead, fingers found solace around my shoulder where I'd dropped them off. His voice was coarse when he spoke, but it wasn't dripping with anger. It just sounded like Tyler. Rough like a road paved with gravel. It could be bumpy and rocky, but it served a purpose. It was still a path to follow. He promoted, "The day you climbed into my car..."

My eyes fluttered shut as the pad of his thumb now caressed my shoulder. At least it wasn't my collarbone. The lump in my throat was dry and painful and hardly moved despite my forceful swallow. "It was the first time I...I'd ever heard you say my name. And I just..."

His thumb halted its rhythmic brushes. His body was still and tight, like he was holding his breath underwater.

"I never wanted to stop hearing you say it."

The air went stale around us. My words lay in an embarrassing pile on the floor. Tyler remained completely frozen and I squeezed my eyes shut.

He'd drowned. I was sure of it. I killed him.

Why couldn't I have said something normal? Like, when I realized we had a similar taste in music. Or when he was kind to me when I was crying.

What I said was the truth. But just because it was the truth didn't mean it should be said. Out loud. To him.

Why was I so bad at this?

This is exactly why I took my clothes off.

I felt like I'd been socked in the stomach, but I was determined to use what little core strength I had to sit up and move away from him. Away from this intimate position of lying together. Practically cuddling. Was this considered cuddling?

I inhaled—though shakily—to gather my strength, to sit up, to get away. But Tyler's arm, that had been lying limp underneath my neck this whole time, bowed around my ear until it crushed my entire head into the side of his chest, holding me there like a football tucked underneath his arm. My hands ended up gripping his abdomen and my fingers weren't complaining as they skated across his cotton shirt, relishing in how surprisingly toned he was underneath the fabric.

"Why would I laugh at that?" he chided quietly, his breath fanning across the roots of my blonde hair on the top of my head. Even without seeing him, I could hear how tightly his teeth were clenched just by the tone of his voice.

I had no words. I kept my eyes slammed shut. Maybe I could pretend like I was asleep?

"Allie," he tested and when my muscles tensed, I heard his lips crack into a grin.

That fucking asshole.

"I'm never speaking to you again," I muttered, my body stiff as a 2x4.

Until he laughed. That laugh he laughed earlier. That laugh that came from a place hidden deep within him. Somewhere small and secluded and secretive.

In a single blink, my head tilted up toward him. My eyes were transfixed on him like an art critic analyzes a masterpiece—with appreciation, imagination, and wonder...but also with complexity, searching for the covert nuances buried deep within each stroke of paint. Singular choices made that seemed small, but made the largest impact. They were there, right in front of me. I just had to find them.

For once, I wanted to find them.

His eyes were molten gold as he stared back at me with a crooked smile. "If only I'd known that all it took was saying your name."

I opened my mouth to retort, to push him off the pedestal he'd magically procured recently, but he was faster. He hungrily swallowed my lips into his mouth as his arm around my neck tugged me a few inches closer to his chest.

I hated how easy it was to give in. How satisfying it felt to fight with our tongues instead of our words.

"Tyler," I finally heaved, barely breaking away from a kiss so consuming that I forgot time even existed. His lips refused to leave my skin as they raked across my cheek, inching further down my neck.

A sound escaped from my mouth—a mixture between a pleasurable sigh from the sensations he was providing and a growl for being the biggest hypocrite in the entire world right now.

"Mr. 'Just Not Like This' needs to control himself."

His vexing lips halted, but still he chuckled against my neck, sending a wave of vibrations across my skin. His head pulled away from me, but he continued to surprise me with how smooth he was as he took this opportunity to readjust our bodies against each