You weren’t officially with Aaron James.

It was a situationship—messy, addicting, and way too perfect. He treated you better than any guy ever had. Open doors. Soft hands. Obsessive stares that burned through rooms.

Everyone in the friend group teased him for how into you he was. He didn’t deny it. Ever.

Today, it was a beach road trip.

Seven of you. One car. One problem.

“We’re full,” someone said. “She can sit on Aaron’s lap,” another joked.

You laughed nervously—until Aaron pulled you gently down onto him.

“Come on, you’re the smallest,” he said, voice low, lips at your ear.

The ride was long. Winding. Bumpy. You shifted every few seconds, trying not to think about how close you were.

Then you really felt it.

Aaron’s hands suddenly gripped your hips—firm, controlling. He let out a low breath and leaned in.

“You gotta stop moving like that,” he whispered, voice rough.

You froze, face heating up.

But he just smiled against your neck.

“Unless you’re doing it on purpose.”