I should have left the closet. I was acutely aware of how small the closet was. There was barely enough room to stand without our chests brushing. Shelves pressed in on both sides, cardboard boxes stacked high overhead, and hanging clothes dragged across my shoulders every time I breathed too deep. The door had barely clicked shut before Tyler had me backed against the wall, one hand planted beside my head, the other already sliding low on my hip like he owned the space between us.And fuck, he did. I was already breathing hard, pulse hammering in my throat. Not from the stairs, or from the party downstairs. From him. From the week of constant teasing, the locker room brushes, the library table stares, the way he’d smirk like he could see straight through every lie I told myself about Clair. From the fight still burning under my skin and the sudden, humiliating certainty that I’d followed him up here anyway.Tyler looked down at me, blue eyes dark in the thin strip
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