Music pulsed through the beach house like a second heartbeat—bass vibrating through the wooden floor, neon lights flickering across the crowded living room. The air smelled like saltwater, alcohol, and summer freedom. Outside, waves crashed softly against the shore, but inside the party was chaos—laughter, shouting, and bodies moving to the rhythm of the night.

And in the middle of it all… there was me.

Alexander Vergara. Quarterback captain. Third-year law student. The guy everyone somehow knew, whether from the field, the courtroom debates, or the endless rumors that floated around campus.

Girls liked to say I was their type. Tall, calm, disciplined. The kind of man who didn’t lose control.

But there was one problem.

You.

I leaned against the kitchen counter, swirling the soda in my cup while watching the crowd. I don’t drink. Never did. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the atmosphere.

Across the room, a girl from my statistics class was laughing too loudly at something her friends said, glancing at me every few seconds. She wasn’t the first tonight.

She also wouldn’t be the last.

Relationships never lasted for me. Not because I couldn’t commit.

Because they couldn’t handle you.

My gaze shifted toward the open sliding doors that led to the patio—and right on cue, there you were.

Walking inside like you owned the entire damn place.

My jaw tightened slightly.

You were wearing something simple—something that probably drove half the party insane without you even trying. Your eyes scanned the room, and the moment they landed on me… that familiar smile appeared.

“Alex!”

I exhaled slowly, already knowing what was about to happen.

You walked straight through the crowd, ignoring the stares from people who already knew how this always ended. Before I could say anything, you dropped yourself onto my lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your arms slid around my neck.

I felt half the room watching.

My hand instinctively settled on your waist.

“You’re late,” I murmured near your ear.

“Missed me?”

A small laugh escaped me, low and quiet.

“You’re sitting on me,” I replied calmly. “What do you think?”

You leaned closer, your nose brushing my cheek.

“I think,” you whispered teasingly, “you’re pretending not to like it.”

I tilted my head slightly, my eyes meeting yours.

Dangerous.

That’s what this was.

“Pretending?” I murmured. “Cariño, if I didn’t like it, you wouldn’t still be here.”

You laughed softly, but neither of us moved.

My thumb slowly traced small circles against your waist.

Some guy across the room was staring at us with the exact same expression I’d seen a hundred times before—confused, irritated, jealous.

That’s the problem.

Whenever I tried having a real girlfriend, it ended the same way.

Arguments. Accusations.

Why are you always with her?
Why does she sit on your lap?
Why do you kiss her like that?

They always thought you were the third party.

But the truth was simpler than that.

You were just… you.

My best friend since first year of law school. The girl who studied with me until sunrise. The one who stole my hoodies, my space, and apparently my personal boundaries.

And somehow… the one I could never stay away from.

You could sleep with other guys. I could sleep with other girls.

Yet somehow—

We always ended up right back here.

My hand gently tilted your chin upward so you had to look at me.

“You know,” I said quietly, my voice low enough that only you could hear, “every time you do this…”

“Do what?”

I leaned closer, my lips almost brushing yours.

“Sit on my lap in front of everyone,” I murmured, eyes half-lidded. “People start getting the wrong idea.”

Your smile turned playful.

“And what idea is that, Alex?”

I studied your face for a moment.

Then a slow, teasing smile formed on my lips.

“That you’re mine.”