Lily POV

Morning light slipped through the curtains, painting golden lines across the tangled sheets and dusting the room in quiet warmth. I lay there, wide awake, with Finn's arm draped over my waist like he had no intention of letting go—even in sleep. His scent clung to my skin, all cedarwood and something unmistakably him, like the night had branded me in silence.

My body felt heavy, sated. My heart felt the opposite—fractured and restless.

I stared at the ceiling as everything from the night before played on loop, both too vivid and too distant. Not just the way he touched me, the way he whispered my name like a confession—but the way my chest didn't ache for Nate afterward. The way it never really had.

I shifted carefully, trying not to wake him, though I knew the second I moved that I wasn't fooling anyone. Still, I slipped out from beneath the sheets, letting the cool air kiss my skin as I crossed the room. The window greeted me with birdsong and early sun, the kind of perfect morning that made my guilt all the more suffocating.

I leaned against the frame, arms crossed tight, heart caught between too many truths.

I didn't regret last night. I regretted the lie I'd been living up until it happened.

Because the hardest part wasn't that I'd slept with Finn while still technically Nate's girlfriend—it was realizing that I hadn't really been Nate's in a long time. If ever.

The door clicked softly behind me, and I felt him before I heard him. The familiar warmth of Finn's body pressed gently to my back, his arms winding around my waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. His lips brushed the curve of my shoulder, lingering longer than necessary.

"Morning," he murmured, voice still low and rough with sleep.

I swallowed the knot in my throat. "Morning."

He didn't press. Just stood there with me in silence for a moment, like he knew my mind was somewhere else but wasn't ready to chase it yet.

Then: "You're thinking about Nate."

It wasn't a question. Just a quiet observation that sliced straight through the air between us.

I turned to face him, and God, he looked unreal—messy curls, pillow creases on his cheek, golden skin glowing under the morning light. It wasn't fair how beautiful he was. How easy it felt to fall into him. That was always the problem.

"I shouldn't have let it happen like this," I said softly.

He didn't flinch. Just gave me that lazy half-smile that always made it harder to breathe. "I know. We were reckless."

"But honest," I added, and his gaze sharpened.

Finn tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "One rule, okay?" His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, and I leaned into it despite myself. "We don't do this again until you end it with him. You need a clean break. I won't be the guy on the side."

My chest tightened, but I nodded.

His voice lowered. "That said... I don't regret a damn thing about last night." He stepped closer, all heat and certainty. "But next time I fuck you, Lily, it's not going to be like this. No blurred lines. No middle ground. You'll be mine."

I should've winced. Should've rolled my eyes or pushed him away.

But instead, I blushed. Stupidly. Helplessly. Because somehow, when it came from him, it didn't sound crude. It sounded like a promise.

"God, you're cocky," I muttered.

He grinned. "You like it."

I let out a shaky breath. "Fine. But if we're doing this... you need to sort out Rachel."

His smile faded just slightly, replaced by something harder. "I will. She won't be a problem."

"Good," I said, already grabbing my clothes. "I should get back before my mum comes home."

I stepped toward the door, but his hand caught mine, spinning me gently around. He leaned in and kissed me—not the way he had last night, full of heat and ache—but slow, soft, with the kind of intention that made my heart ache.

When he pulled back, he whispered against my lips, "Don't make me wait too long, Gorgeous."

I didn't trust myself to speak. So I just nodded, biting back a smile as I turned and slipped out the door—heart pounding, soul torn, body still burning from a night I'd never forget.

I stepped into my room and closed the door behind me with a soft click. For a long moment, I didn't move. I just stood there, forehead pressed against the wood, breathing in shallow, uneven pulls like maybe I could hold off the guilt a little longer if I stayed still enough.

But it caught up to me anyway.

I turned slowly, the room too quiet, too still—too honest now that I'd stepped back into it.

My phone lit up from the nightstand, screen glowing with a single name I didn't want to face.

Nate.

I stared at it for a few seconds, willing it to be something else. A random notification. A group chat. Anything but him.

But I already knew. Because part of me had been waiting for this the second I slipped out of Finn's bed.

I padded across the room on bare feet, heart lodged somewhere behind my ribs and picked up the phone. I hesitated—just for a second—before unlocking it.

Nate: Lily, I'm sorry if I made you feel pressured. That wasn't my intention. But I want you to know that I truly love you. Being with you brings me so much joy, and sometimes, you just know when something feels right. I don't need an immediate response from you, but I want you to know that my feelings are sincere. Our connection means everything to me.

The words blurred before I even finished reading them, my eyes stinging with tears I didn't deserve to cry.

Because he meant every word.

And I didn't.

I'd never been all in with Nate. Not really. I think part of me always knew that. I tried to talk myself into it—into the comfort of safety, of routine, of someone who never made me question where I stood. But the truth was... I'd been emotionally absent from the start. Going through the motions, trying to create something that didn't exist.

And the most brutal part? He still thought I was his. He still thought we were real.

But I'd never belonged to him.

Not the way he wanted. Not the way he deserved.

And certainly not in the way I belonged to Finn.

The guilt wasn't about betraying a love story.

It was about pretending there was one in the first place.

I sank down onto the edge of the bed, phone clutched tight in my hands as silent tears slipped down my cheeks.

I never chose Nate. I chose the idea of Nate.

And I hurt him by pretending that was enough.

*******

Finn left in the afternoon, just before my mum returned, leaving me with a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. His words echoed in my mind, he wants this to work but needs me to end things with Nate first.

Before we knew it, the Christmas break ended, and the New Year arrived swiftly. Which signalled the start of the new semester.

Jennie, Kam, and I spoke with campus accommodation last year to get out of our tenancies, so we can get a rent a place just us three. Initially, they were reluctant but with a lot of persuasion, they finally agreed.

"Alright, seems like that's the last of my stuff" Kam says bringing in her boxes and setting them into our apartment.

Jennie chimed in, "I can't wait to start decorating and make this place feel like home." She had already started unpacking her favourite books and arranging them neatly on the shelves.

I nodded in agreement, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

As we settled comfortably in the living room, immersed in lively discussions about our Christmas break, my phone rang, and I eagerly picked it up to see Finn's name flashing on the screen, eliciting a smile from me.

"Hey," he greeted warmly over the phone, his voice filled with affection. "Just wanted to hear your voice," he chuckled.

"Finn," I whine, catching the attention of Kam and Jen who turned their heads toward me, unaware of the recent developments from the break that I hadn't shared with them yet.

"I know I set the rule, but I miss being with you," he confessed softly.

Feeling the need to create some distance from the girls before discussing further, I rose from the couch and made my way to the kitchen.

"I'll talk to Nate soon and resolve this, okay," I assured him and myself aloud, "Miss you too" I whisper before ending the call.

I ended the call with a soft smile, but when I returned to the living room, Kam and Jennie were already staring me down.

"What was that about?" Kam asked, eyebrow arched.

I hesitated. "It was Finn."

Jen blinked. "Finn?"

Kam crossed her arms. "So, what happened over break?"

I let out a breath. "Everything."

They listened as I told them everything—from the night he stayed over, to the kiss, to the sex, to the guilt. Jen looked shocked. Kam just looked tired.

"Babe," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I told you not to go there until you were sure."

"I am sure now," I said quietly. "I just handled it all wrong."

"When are you telling Nate?" Jen asked gently.

"When he gets back in March."

Kam groaned. "Why wait?"

"Because I want to do it face-to-face," I said. "It's the least I owe him."

Kam nodded slowly. "Just make sure you don't string him along in the meantime. Be kind, but don't lie."

"I know," I said. "I'm going to make it right."

Jen tilted her head. "So... are you and Finn a thing now?"

A slow, bittersweet smile curved my lips. "We will be. I want to be with him. I think... I always have."

Kam softened then. "Then just be honest. With him. With Nate. And with yourself."

And for the first time in a long time, I knew I could.

*********

Finn POV

"Miss you too," she whispered, and the call ended with a soft click that echoed a little too loudly in the empty space around me.

I stared at the black screen of my phone, her voice still ringing in my ears. My chest felt lighter, but the ache hadn't disappeared—it had only shifted. Deeper now. Tighter.

She was going to break up with him. Not now. But soon.

I held onto that.

"FINN!"

Coach Fritz's bark snapped me back into reality like a slap. I startled, shoving my phone into my hoodie pocket.

"This isn't a goddamn slumber party! Drop the phone and move!"

I muttered a curse under my breath and jogged onto the field, lungs tightening with every step.

Laps. So many fucking laps.

"You wanna make it to the league or waste it chasing girls?" Coach called out as I passed him again. "Figure it out before someone else decides for you."

I didn't answer. Just ran harder. Let the air burn my throat, let the silence drown out everything except the image of her curled in bed, whispering that she missed me.

It wasn't about chasing girls.

It was about finally having the guts to stop running from the one I wanted.

*******

By the time practice ended, I was drenched in sweat and half-dead on my feet. Coach had made an example out of me all morning, barking about distractions and wasted potential like it was his personal vendetta.

If only he knew I ran better after hearing Lily's voice.

She didn't say much on the call—she didn't have to. Just a soft "Miss you too" before hanging up, and I've been stuck on it ever since. That quiet confession had me running laps like a man with something to prove.

Because I did.

I showered fast and headed home, pulse still racing—but not from exertion. From her.

Shawn was already on the couch when I walked in, legs kicked up, a protein shake in hand, and the world's most annoying smirk plastered across his face.

"Well, well, look who survived death-by-Fritz," he said, tossing me a water bottle without looking up from the TV.

I caught it one-handed and cracked the cap. "Barely."

"You look like hell."

"Thanks."

"Still grinning like a dumbass though," he added, side-eyeing me. "So I'm guessing you called her."

I dropped onto the opposite end of the couch, wiped my face with my shirt. "Yeah. I did."

"And?"

"She said she'll talk to him soon," I said, trying to keep my tone casual even though my heart was still doing somersaults.

Shawn snorted. "Soon. Right. While she's still Nate's girlfriend and you're just... what? Emotional support dick?"

I shot him a look. "You done?"

"Not even close," Shawn said, scoffing as he sat up straighter. "You didn't just slip, Finn. You had full awareness, full emotional intel, and still went full Hallmark homewrecker. Christmas night. Her mum's gone. Emotions off the charts. And you're in her guest room like it's some tragic slow-burn romance? Come on. That wasn't confusion. That was a conscious, fully-executed decision."

"I know," I muttered, scrubbing a hand down my face.

Shawn didn't let up. "Anyway, putting that beautiful disaster aside...I'm guessing she told you to handle the Rachel situation?"

I froze. "Wait, how did you—"

He burst out laughing, shaking his head like I was helpless. "Please. One—Rachel's had heart eyes for you since first year. Anyone with functioning vision could clock that. Two—that cabin trip? It was like watching a plane crash into a nest of baby ducks."

My jaw dropped. "That's—graphic."

He shrugged, grinning. "Tell me I'm wrong."

I snorted. "Or maybe Kam told you something."

"Tomato, tomahto," he said smugly. "Still doesn't change the fact that you've got a problem, and it's wearing lip gloss and pretending she doesn't want to be your New Year's kiss."

"She doesn't have feelings for me," I said, though even I didn't sound convinced.

Shawn gave me a long, slow blink. "Finn. You are the most oblivious person I know."

I groaned.

"No, I'm serious," he went on. "She flirts. Constantly. She shows up here whenever she feels like it, touches you every chance she gets, and acts like that one night you two hooked up was just the start of something. You really think she's chill about you and Lily?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, jaw tight. "I didn't mean for it to get messy."

Shawn leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Then clean it up. Because Lily already made a choice, even if she hasn't walked away from Nate yet. Don't make her regret choosing you."

Before I could respond, a knock sounded at the door.

Shawn stood to answer it, muttering under his breath. "God's timing is crazy."

He opened it and didn't miss a beat. "Speak of the devil."

Rachel blinked. "What?"

"Nothing," he said with a smile that was way too smug. "I was just leaving. Gonna go call Kam. You two can... catch up."

Then he looked back at me and added under his breath, "Don't fuck this up," before disappearing down the hall.

Rachel stepped inside like she always did—comfortable, casual, a little too at home for someone who didn't live here.

"Hey, Finn," she said softly, her smile tilted just enough to toe the line between friendly and something else. "Hope I'm not interrupting."

I stood slowly, wiping my palms down my sweats. "No, not at all," I said, even though I'd just been lectured about this exact moment fifteen seconds ago. "Actually... can we talk?"

She blinked, surprised by the shift in tone. "Sure," she said, cautious now. "What's with the serious voice? You're not dying or moving to another country, are you?"

I gave her a half-smile, motioning toward the couch. "Just... sit. Please."

She did, her eyes scanning me like she was trying to piece something together.

I sat across from her, elbows on my knees, heart beating faster than it should've. The words were already at the back of my throat, bitter and sharp and overdue.

"Do you have feelings for me?"

Rachel blinked.

Then she laughed—but not the bubbly, breezy kind she usually gave me. This one was short. Tight. Like she hadn't expected the question but maybe also had.

"What?" she asked, tilting her head. "Where's this coming from?"

I didn't move. "Just answer."

She stared at me for a beat, then shrugged lightly. "We've been friends for a long time, Finn. Of course I care about you. But not like that."

There was something too smooth about her response. Too quick.

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you sure?"

She smiled again, and this time it reached her eyes, just barely. "If this is about that one night years ago—it was what it was. We were both bored and a little drunk. We moved past it."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Okay. That's a relief."

She stood, moving toward the kitchen like the conversation had been about picking a Netflix show.

"So why ask now?" she asked over her shoulder, opening the fridge and grabbing a glass. "You worried I'm in love with you or something?"

"No," I said, following her. "But I wanted to be clear. I don't want to lead you on or pretend things are what they're not."

She glanced at me, glass halfway to her mouth. "This is about Lily, isn't it?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I want to be with her. And I just... needed to clear the air."

There was a pause. A beat of silence too long to be comfortable.

Then the glass slipped from her hand.

It hit the floor, sharp and loud, and shattered into pieces that skittered across the tile like broken tension.

"Shit—" I rushed over. "Don't move."

I crouched down, grabbing a napkin and picking up the shards carefully.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, crouching too. "God, I'm such a klutz."

But her hands were trembling.

And her voice? Not fine.

I glanced up at her, catching the brief flicker in her eyes—something tight, something raw—but it vanished just as fast.

"It's alright," I said gently, trying to keep my voice steady. "Accidents happen."

She gave me a smile that didn't match her eyes.

And just like that, I knew.

"Actually... um.. I forgot," she said, voice too high, smile too tight. "I'm supposed to call my aunt about... something. Flights. Yeah."

I raised an eyebrow but nodded anyway. "Okay."

She moved to the door quickly, grabbing her keys like they might vanish if she didn't get out fast enough. "Thanks for the talk, Finn."

"Yeah. Anytime."

The door clicked shut behind her, and I exhaled, dragging a hand through my hair. That... could've gone worse. But it also couldn't have been more uncomfortable if I'd tried.

A beat later, Shawn wandered back in, chewing on an energy bar like he hadn't been shamelessly eavesdropping from the hallway.

"Well," he said, plopping onto the couch like he was reporting for duty. "That was an utter disaster."

I gave him a look. "You think?"

"She left like you just told her you ran over her cat," he deadpanned. "And then lied about calling her aunt about flights? Bro, her aunt lives in Manchester. I met her."

I groaned, sinking into the cushions.

Shawn patted my shoulder, mock-gentle. "Look on the bright side. You were honest. Brutally. Awkwardly. Painfully. But honest."

"Thanks," I muttered. "Really helpful analysis."

"You're welcome. I'm like a therapist, but without the qualifications or empathy."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed on the coffee table. I glanced down, and the caller ID drained whatever ease I'd managed to fake.

Dad.

"Shit," I muttered, and picked up before I could talk myself out of it. "What?"

There was a pause on the other end. Then, "Nice to hear your voice too, son."

I sighed. "What do you want?"

"You didn't come home for Christmas," he said. His tone was even, but something in it tried too hard to sound casual. "I just... I was hoping we could spend some time together."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Right. Just me, you, and your girlfriend playing pretend over turkey and boxed wine?"

Another pause. Longer this time.

"It's been years, Finn," he said, quieter now. "You can't keep avoiding it forever. She's gone. We need to move forward."

"You moved forward," I snapped. "You didn't even look for her. You just shrugged, poured yourself a drink, and brought home the first woman who'd play house."

His voice cracked, just slightly. "I'm happy now. I wish you could be too."

I didn't respond. I just hung up.

He never talked about my mum unless it was to remind me, she left. He never once asked how it felt to wake up every morning hoping she'd come back—and going to bed knowing she wouldn't.

I tossed the phone onto the coffee table, sat back, and stared at the ceiling like maybe it had answers.

Shawn looked over at me, the sarcasm dialled down now.

"Your dad?" he asked.

I nodded once, jaw tight.

He let out a breath. "Still on his Greatest Hits tour?"

"Still speaking about his damn girlfriend like she's God's gift to stepmothers," I muttered, propping my feet up on the couch. "Like he didn't forget to be a parent the moment she walked in."

Shawn gave a low whistle. "You know, one of these days, you're actually gonna have to talk to him. Like really talk."

I leaned back and closed my eyes. "Yeah? Well, I hope the day never comes."

And for now—silence was still easier than forgiveness.