I might've stopped questioning Tara's love for pillows after the tenth night I spent sleeping in her bed. They sure don't irritate me this morning as I wake next to her.

She's wrapped in the white comforter with only her nose and a foot sticking out from beneath the fabric. The alarm will go off in a few minutes, so I opt for risking my life and run my fingers across Tara's cheek.

She scrunches her nose and groans, rolling over so her back is facing me. I slip a hand under the covers and cup her ass, squeezing.

"Bast," Tara mumbles.

I go on exploring. Her skin is so fucking smooth I could spend all morning touching her. Who needs a degree? The world is fucked, we're all doomed, and maybe there's nothing good waiting for us tomorrow. And Tara's body is fucking perfection. The more time we spend in bed, the more addicted I become. The more I crave her.

I run my finger between her cheeks, and she looks at me over her shoulder, arching her brow.

I remove my hand. "Uncomfortable?"

She turns around and edges closer while I continue my lazy caresses, skimming my fingers over her lower back.

"Just new," she says. "Took me by surprise."

I kiss the tip of her nose and rest my forehead against hers. "A good kind of surprise?"

Tara's fingertips dance along my jaw. She peers up at me, biting her lip. "You'd have to do more than touch me for a second to find out."

More...Did she say more? I curl an arm around her waist and yank her toward me so she'd be flush against my body.

"Bast." Tara squirms, laughing. "Let me go."

I bite her neck. "No. We're staying in."

She sighs. "I have a quiz later. And I need to pee."

I release her with a frustrated groan and grab a pink pillow, pressing it to my chest.

Tara stops by the bathroom door and blows me a kiss. "Don't sulk. We can go to campus in your car."

***

Tara is ready in less than twenty minutes. Impressive, considering she showered, twisted her hair in something like a bun, and put at least five products on her face. I have no clue what they are. My bathroom shelf only has my face wash and aftershave. Leaning against her desk, I watch her pull out a shoe box from the closet.

When she removes the lid, and I see the shoes, I groan. "Really? How the hell will you walk in those?"

"You're driving, right? These lift my ass nicely, Basti. Judging by your wandering hand, you like it."

"You don't need to lift something that's already perfect." I huff. "Seriously, do you want me to worry about you breaking your neck all day?"

Tara grabs her bag from the chair and bats her lashes at me. "You're such a grump sometimes. It's cute that you worry, though. Unnecessary, but cute. It's a shame you don't like my shoes."

As we exit the room and head to the foyer, I slide my hand in the back pocket of Tara's jeans. "Did I say anything about not liking them?"

She stops. The corners of her mouth lift in a mischievous smile, and Tara throws her arms around my neck. "There's another advantage of walking in four-inch heels."

I can't think of any. Before I can tell her that, her soft lips mold against mine for a brief kiss.

"Makes kissing you easier," she whispers.

***

When I park on campus, gray clouds smear the sky, but despite the gloomy weather, the quad is swarming with people.

"Don't you have Bio now?" Tara asks as I bypass the Science Building.

I shrug. "I want to walk you to class if that's okay."

A barely-there smile materializes on her face. She looks at her feet as if she's scared I noticed, and my hand moves on its own accord, clasping Tara's.

Her delicate fingers are cool. I grip them tighter, stroking the back of her hand with my thumb as we stroll to the Humanities Building past several guys and girls from my class.

Does Tara want to put a label on whatever we have going on? I can't ask her now although I'm aware that what I'm doing is a declaration of intentions.

When the stately construction comes into view, my steps slow.

"See you later, okay?" I say once we're next to the entrance.

Tara clears her throat. "Sure."

Her hand is still in mine, and before she has a chance to remove it, I lean in and capture her lips in a kiss that lasts way longer than a goodbye peck on the lips should.

Our breaths are ragged when we break apart. The wind blows, and a strand of Tara's hair gets in front of her eyes. I tuck it behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her face.

"I should go," she whispers.

I wait for her to disappear inside the building and sprint to class.

***

Bio with Elena goes as smoothly as it can - she gives me knifing looks and snaps at me, which would be annoying if I gave a damn.

They say smart people learn from the mistakes of others. Unfortunately, I'm forced to learn from mine. Not that I can blame Elena for being pissed at me-I did a lot of stuff no decent guy would do. Sleeping with her when I didn't like her one bit was perhaps the shittiest thing of all.

I stay behind after class to make sure she leaves first and go to the canteen. Brian and I agreed to meet there, and Evans promised to tag along.

I scan the rows of tables, and my gaze homes in on Brian sitting in the far left corner. He's texting someone, his forehead creased in a frown.

I cut across the room and stop by his table. "Hi. How's it going?"

He drives out a harsh sigh. "Could be better. If you order, grab a sandwich for me. I need to text Leah real quick."

By the time I've got our food, Evans and Connor are at our table, too. I put a tray in the center of it and plop on a chair beside Drew.

"So, she might lose the baby?" Evans asks. "Man, that sucks."

Brian looks toward the window, pursing his lips. As if learning you're going to be a father at twenty-one wasn't enough, he's now worried because Leah might miscarry. They had to rush to the ER on the same day Leah told him the news, and now she's on bed rest at home. I'd bet all my money Brian would rather be with her, but my busy schedule is nothing compared to how swamped he is with his BS/MD program.

I slide the tray toward him. "You need to eat, man. What does the doctor say?"

Brian picks up his sandwich. "That we need to wait. I know they can't promise anything. I just hate this situation. Leah throws up all the time and can't eat. She also worries about the internship she will now lose."

"It'll be okay," I say. "The baby will pull through; you'll see."

Evans crosses his arms behind his head. "If Hutches says it's gonna be okay you'd better believe it. Mister Pessimism doesn't dish out optimistic predictions often."

I flip him the bird, and Connor laughs. "Drew has a point, though. It's almost as if you were getting laid on the regular."

Fuck. How did this convo turn into a podcast named Sebastian's Sex Life?

"Yup," Connor forges on. "Who's she?"

"Sssssss."

Brian, Connor, and I look at Drew, whose focus shifted to someone else.

"Sssssssss," he repeats. "Slither on."

Elena darts past our table, her cheeks flaming. Was she trying to listen in?

Snickers erupt around me. "Man, I feel sorry for her," Connor says, shaking his head as he glances in the direction Elena had gone.

Thankfully, the interruption makes the guys abandon the convo revolving around my relationships. We finish eating and split up to go to our classes.

The next three lectures are uneventful. As I strut out of the lecture hall after Calc, my phone vibrates in my pocket, and my mouth goes dry.

It's been days since Dad told me about Tara's father. I did my best to push the info to the back of my mind, but as I see Dad's name on the screen, my pulse skyrockets, and breathing becomes a challenging task.

I accept the call. "Hi."

"Sebastian. Are you busy?"

"Not right now," I say. "What's going on?"

"I'm home early, and I can't find my tools. Where did you put them?"

I blow out a breath. "Ah, that. On the shelf in the attic."

"Thanks. Talk to you later."

"Wait," I say, advancing along the crowded hallway. "Do you have news about...you know?"

"Nothing new yet. It takes time, Son. I'll tell you when things change. Try not to worry."

Easier said than done. I mutter a goodbye and hang up, but a mix of fear and guilt storms throughout my veins. I wish I could just tell Tara. Warn her. Hold her hand through all this shit. She's living her life without having a clue everything will shatter to pieces soon.

I lift my eyes off the floor and stop in my tracks when I see Tara by the window a few feet away. It's as if the fucking universe wanted to remind me of how big of a jerk I am.

"Tara."

Her head snaps up. "You jinxed me, Basti."

I approach her and roam her face with my eyes. "Why?"

"I twisted my ankle a little," she says.

"Fuck, and what are you doing on your feet?"

"I was going to..." Tara gestures at the windowsill.

I hug her and hoist her up so she'd sit while I inspect her foot. I remove her shoe and run my fingertips over her ankle. It's starting to swell, and I gently massage it with my thumbs, gauging Tara's reaction.

"Does it hurt?" I ask.

She bites her lip, wincing. "Yeah."

"I t-"

"Shh." She touches my mouth with the pad of her index finger. "I've worn these a hundred times. They're comfy. I'll just ice it at home."

"I'll do it."

Tara cups my jaw. "I'm okay. You're meeting Kenny, remember? You guys have to decide on the sketches for the new collection. He won't have enough time otherwise."

"I'll drop you off at home, get you some ice, and go. Don't argue with me."

Tara's blue eyes look into mine, and I slide a hand into her hair, pulling her toward me. "Come here."

It feels as natural as breathing. Her arms wind around my neck. My lips seek hers, and the moment they touch, tension leaves me. I feel weightless as we kiss. Nothing matters, not even the fact that we're in a hallway where anyone can see us.

I caress Tara's hip and slip my tongue into her mouth. Before things escalate to the point of one of us losing our clothes, I stop.

She tucks her head in the crook of my neck, and I hold her as we both wait for our breaths to slow.

What makes me open my eyes is the thump of someone's feet. I register dark hair in my peripheral vision and clench my jaw.

Of course, it had to be Elena. How much did she see? For some reason, I suspect it was way more than what I'm comfortable with.

***

I leave Tara at home and drive to her friend's store. As I enter the boutique, a guy my age glances up from a table with a pile of clothes on it and smiles at me. "Welcome to Fashion Victim."

"Hi. I'm here to see Kenny."

"He's waiting for you in his office," the guy says. "In the back of the store. Second door on your right."

"Thanks," I say. He keeps folding shirts, and I march past several mannequins clad in casual clothes. The store gives off a relaxed vibe. The furniture is in beige tones, and the layout is neat. Fashion Victim is written in a graffiti font on the faux brick wall behind the checkout counter. There's no clutter, only a few shelves, tables, and racks. Everything I see is what I'd usually wear - hoodies, tees, jeans.

I knock on the white door the store employee had indicated, and a male voice says, "Come in."

I step into the epitome of a creative mess. All kinds of art supplies imaginable cover the huge white desk, and another table has fabric samples on it.

Tara's friend gives me a brief smile and shakes my hand. "Thanks for stopping by."

"Thanks for inviting me," I say. "I like your store. It's cool."

Kenny winks. "Thanks. Tara helped me a ton as you already know. She's way better at decor."

Is there anyone Tara hasn't helped in a way? Evans, my mom, me, and now this diamond studs-wearing guy. And she never asks for anything in return.

"Well, let's sit," Tara's friend says. "Sorry for the mess. I can't bother with cleaning while I'm in the zone."

I'm the exact opposite - the mess bugs me so much I can't draw until my desk is tidy, but I don't tell Kenny that. After being called Mr. Pessimism today, I don’t want to earn another nickname before the day is over.

We settle at the table, and Kenny accepts the sketches I give him. He's interested in the sea-related ones, so that's what I selected for my portfolio.

As he studies each drawing, I examine the objects littering his creative space. Markers, brushes, pencils, and fashion magazines mix in an eclectic pattern on his wooden desk.

"Did you see our catalogue of T-shirts?" Kenny asks. "If not, it's on the shelf against the wall."

I lift myself off the chair and cross the office, coming to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling shelf. I spot the catalogue right away, but another thing catches my eye.

Two framed pictures. In one of them, a younger-looking Kenny has his arm around another guy's shoulders. They smile at the camera against the backdrop of the ocean.

In the second photo, Kenny's with Tara and a group of other people. A ball of sawdust forms in my throat. I recognize the place, and him.

Fuck.

"That's my dead fiance." Kenny stands beside me and snatches the photo from the shelf. "But you already know that. I'm glad you're doing okay."

A lump of air catches in my chest. I try to draw a lungful and fail.

Kenny leaves the picture on the table behind him, and our gazes join in a lock.

"Unless you're not. Are you okay, Seb?"

Hi guys!
Well, more secrets it seems... Tell me what you think, what you like or don't.
I'm happy so many of you read this book! How did you discover it? I'm trying to see if doing promo on my social media helps.

That being said, I'd love to see you on my Instagram and TikTok where I post teasers and other book and life-related stuff. alwynk_author for both platforms.

Love you❤