26. Alex

ALEX

NOW – SOPHOMORE YEAR – APRIL

“ M mm, Tara bakes the best cookies,” Freddie moans so loud it makes my cheeks flush.

“The woman is a wizard,” I agree, trying to ignore the way my stomach flips at the sound of his appreciation. It’s just Freddie being Freddie, I remind myself. He’d probably make the same noise over a well-prepared lab sample.

We’re holed up in the lab, surrounded by stacks of data printouts and empty coffee cups. The clock on the wall reads 5:45 pm, but I barely register it. Time seems to lose all meaning when we’re working like this. Freddie met me here right after his shift at the gym so we could work together.

I reach for another cookie, my fingers brushing against Freddie’s as he does the same. We both pull back, laughing awkwardly. Freddie hasn’t brought up the mind-blowing sex we had last month, and neither have I. We’ve been working well on the project together and kept things mildly flirty at best. It seems we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Sorry,” he says, gesturing for me to go ahead. “Ladies first.”

I roll my eyes but take the cookie anyway. “Such a gentleman,” I tease, biting into the chocolatey goodness. The lab hums around us, a weird mix of stressed-out whispers and the click-clack of laptops.

“Fuck,” I mutter, scrolling through Professor Bam’s email again. “Two weeks till the big presentation. I’m starting to freak out.”

Freddie glances up from his laptop. “About what? The rehab plan is solid.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t even started on the slides yet, and this is worth what, 70% of our grade?”

“Hey, PowerPoint is my superpower. Give me a night with a Red Bull, I’ll make us something beautiful.” He grins, then sobers when he sees my face. “What’s really bothering you?”

I chew my lip. “The GSRI internship. Getting into the summer program depends on this grade.”

“Ah.” He leans back. “Of course, the internship thing.”

“Yeah, the internship thing. And then we’ve got that poster session a week after for the other 30%.” I start tapping my pen against my notebook. “I just... I can’t screw this up, Freddie.”

“Hey.” He reaches over to still my tapping hand. “We’ve got this, okay? The whole phased rehabilitation approach? It’s good. Really good.”

I pull my hand away, pretending to reach for my coffee. “Says the guy who wanted to title our presentation ‘A Special Shaft.’“

“That was comedy gold, and you know it.” He flicks a piece of paper at me. “Come on, let’s nail down this data, then we can work on an outline and make our presentation beautiful. With a super boring title.”

“Fine,” I mutter.

“Alex, you deserve the internship. If they don’t see that, it’s their loss. You’re the smartest and most passionate person I know.”

I swallow a thick lump in my throat and nod.

We fall back into comfortable silence, the only sounds the clacking of keyboards and the occasional rustle of paper. I try to focus on the data in front of me, but my mind keeps drifting.

What if once I’m there, I fail?

I’ve been so focused on getting there, I haven’t thought about the possibility of failing once I’m in.

I’m squinting at the data on the screen, my eyes burning from staring at numbers for hours, when Freddie suddenly lets out a whoop that nearly makes me jump out of my skin.

“Alex! Look at this!” He’s practically vibrating with excitement, pointing at his laptop screen.

I lean over, my shoulder brushing against his as I peer at the numbers. For a moment, I’m distracted by his proximity, the scent of leather making my head swim. Focus, Alex .

Then I see it. The data. The beautiful, impossible data that confirms our theory.

“Oh my god,” I breathe. “Freddie, we did it!”

Before I know what’s happening, we’re hugging. It’s spontaneous, born of pure joy and months of hard work finally paying off. But as Freddie’s arms wrap around me, as I feel the solid warmth of his chest against mine, something shifts.

We pull back slightly, our faces inches apart. Freddie’s eyes drop to my lips, and my heart starts racing like I’ve just run a marathon.

Don’t do it, a voice in my head warns. You know he doesn’t want anything serious. You know you’re already in too deep.

But then Freddie’s lips are on mine, and all rational thought flies out the window.

The kiss is electric, sending sparks through my entire body. It’s everything I’ve been dreaming of for months, everything I’ve been trying to convince myself I don’t want.

When we break apart, we’re both breathing heavily. Freddie’s looking at me with a mix of desire and confusion that I’m sure is mirrored on my own face.

“Alex,” he starts, his voice husky. “I?—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off. “Don’t say anything.”

Because I know what he’ll say. That this is a mistake, that we should just be friends, that he’s not looking for anything serious. And right now, with my body humming from his touch and my heart threatening to beat out of my chest, I can’t bear to hear it.

Instead, I grab his hand and pull him to the supply closet. It’s cramped and dark and smells faintly of cleaning products, but I don’t care. All I care about is Freddie’s hands on my waist, his lips on my neck.

As he presses me against the wall, as his hands roam my body with a desperation that matches my own, I know I’m playing with fire. I know that tomorrow, when the heat of the moment has passed, I’ll have to face the reality of my feelings for a man who doesn’t want to be tied down.

Freddie’s lips trail down my neck, and I bite back a moan, acutely aware of how thin the closet walls are. His hands slip under my shirt, calloused fingers tracing patterns on my skin that make me shiver.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispers against my collarbone.

Am I sure? No. I’m not sure about anything when it comes to Freddie. But I’m sure about how I feel right now, how much I want this.

“Yes, I liked it when you told me what to do before,” I breathe, pulling him closer.

“You like that?” His eyes gleam, and I nod. His hand cups my cheek, and his thumb rubs over my lower lip.

Our clothes come off in a frantic rush, hands fumbling with buttons and zippers in the dim light.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoes through the closet. We freeze, hearts pounding.

“What was that?” I whisper, panic rising in my chest.

Freddie reaches behind him, fumbling in the dark. “I think I knocked over a mop bucket,” he says, stifling a laugh.

I can’t help it—I start giggling. The absurdity of the situation hits me all at once. Here we are, half-naked in a supply closet, scared by a mop bucket.

My giggle is cut short as Freddie’s hand wraps around the nape of my neck, gentle but firm. His eyes meet mine in the dim light, dark with intent.

“Quiet,” he whispers against my ear. “Unless you want the whole building to hear what I’m about to do to you.”

Heat pools low in my stomach at his words. His other hand slides down my body, claiming every inch. When he presses me against the wall, I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively.

“Good girl, Lexie,” he murmurs, nipping at my neck. The praise sends shivers through me.

His large cock enters me slowly, deliberately, making me feel every inch. My head falls back against the wall as he fills me completely. The angle is perfect, deep, almost too much. He holds me up easily with one arm under my ass and the other on my back.

“Look at me,” he commands softly. When I meet his eyes, he starts to move. Each thrust is controlled, purposeful, like he’s trying to ruin me for anyone else.

I bite my lip to keep quiet, but Freddie’s hand covers my mouth anyway. “Can’t have you screaming my name,” he breathes against my ear. “No matter how badly I want to hear it.”

The small space makes everything more intense—the heat of his skin, the sound of our breathing, the way he feels inside me. When his free hand finds the wetness between my legs, I whimper against his palm.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his movements becoming more urgent. “You’re so wet for me, Lexie. You’ve gotta come quick, okay? Before we get caught.”

The urgency of our situation only heightens everything. He presses me harder against the wall, going deeper, and I clutch his shoulders as pleasure builds. His mouth finds my neck, kissing, claiming.

His movements become more urgent, more intense. My body is wound up so tight, ready to explode. When his thumb circles just right, stars explode behind my eyes.

When I come, it’s with Freddie’s hand over my mouth, muffling my cries of pleasure. He follows right after, burying his face in my neck to stifle his groan.

For a moment, we stay just like that, wrapped up in each other, his arms keeping me steady as our hearts slow. His lips find mine in a surprisingly tender kiss.

When he sets me down, my legs are shaking so badly that I have to hold onto his shoulders. His answering smirk is insufferable.

“Not a word,” I warn, but I can’t help smiling.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He steadies me with a hand on my waist. “Though I am pretty proud of myself right now.”

I roll my eyes but lean into him for a moment longer before reality starts creeping back in. We dress quickly, stealing glances at each other in the dim light. I try not to think about how many university regulations we just violated. What’s the penalty for having mind-blowing sex in your lab’s cleaning supply closet? Probably not great.

The sound of Freddie’s blaring ringtone makes us both jump. He checks it, then gives me an apologetic look. “It’s Troy. I should probably...”

“Yeah, of course.” I wave him off, trying to sound casual while hunting for my bra. “Go ahead.”

As he steps out, I’m left alone with my thoroughly disheveled thoughts and a mop bucket that’s definitely judging me. I gather my clothes, wondering how I went from dedicated scientist to supply closet temptress in the span of an afternoon.

That’s when I hear it—Freddie’s voice seeping through the crack under the door. And it definitely doesn’t sound like he’s talking to Troy. There isn’t any laughter or “bro”-ing.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I inch closer to the door, straining to hear.

“…understand the offer, sir.” Freddie’s voice is low, serious.

My brow furrows. Sir?

“…need to consider carefully.” Another pause. “Yes, I know the implications.”

A cold feeling settles in my stomach. This doesn’t sound like a chat with a friend. And sir? The only person Freddie calls that is…

Dr. Reeves.

But why would Freddie be talking to Dr. Reeves at this hour? And what offer?

“I appreciate the opportunity,” Freddie continues.

I press closer to the door, feeling like a character in a bad spy movie. “I’ll have an answer for you soon.”

Oh shit. They’re wrapping the call up.

I scramble back to my bag, trying to look innocent as Freddie re-enters the room. “Everything okay?” I ask, hoping my voice doesn’t betray my suspicion.

“Yeah, fine,” Freddie says, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Troy just wanted to confirm plans for tomorrow.”

Oh, Freddie. Sweet, adorable, terrible liar, Freddie. If that was Troy, then I’m the Queen of England.

“Oh, right—the road widening discussion?” I try to keep my voice casual. “You coming? The environmental impact report is a joke.”

He runs a hand through his hair, not meeting my eyes. “Can’t. Got a few clients booked at the gym.”

As we finish packing up in awkward silence, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. We just shared this incredible moment—both professionally and personally. We’re on the verge of a major breakthrough with our project. This should be a high point.

Instead, I feel a creeping sense of unease. What is Freddie hiding? And how does Dr. Reeves factor into all this?

“Yeah,” I reply, shouldering my bag. “You sure you can’t make it tomorrow? Even for a little while?”

“Definitely can’t,” he says quickly. “Protein shakes won’t blend themselves. Ready to go?” Freddie asks, flashing that smile that usually makes my knees weak, but now just makes me suspicious.

“Yeah,” I reply, shouldering my bag. “Let’s go.”