Chapter 66 Chapter 66

Chapter 66 Chapter 66
HAYDEN

The student lounge always carried the faint, familiar stench of cheap pizza and body spray, but you learned to love it after a while because it meant somewhere to crash, somewhere to unload.

Tonight it felt like home in the way only cluttered, loud rooms can be, messy, honest, and full of guys who’d seen you at your worst.

I opened the door with Coleen at my side. She looked small next to the sagging couches, with her fingers tight on the strap of her bag, a careful, curious look on her face.

For a second I had that stupid, protective impulse to steer her away from the boys, to shelter her from the noise, but she didn’t need shelter. She didn’t need me to fix her. She needed me to stand beside her. So I did.

“Hayden!” Jason called from the couch, where he balanced a soda can on his stomach like it was a trophy. “There he is. Mr. Relationship!”

The room filled with the easy, loud laughter we always managed. The guys loved a moment to rally around a new story. Coleen stiffened just a fraction and I squeezed her hand under my jacket hoping that was an anchor.

“This is Coleen,” I said, because introductions felt right. “Coleen, meet Jason, Logan and the boys.”

“Hi.” Her voice was low but steady. Jason leaned forward, grin wide. “So what’s it like dating our golden boy?” he asked, theatrically casual.

“Exhausting,” Coleen replied without skipping a beat.

The answer landed like a thrown glove, it was unexpected, and for a beat the room exploded. Logan laughed until he had to clap both hands to his knees, Jason pretended to keel over. That she could return their humor suddenly changed the tenor of the night, the teasing shifted into something lighter, invitational rather than invasive.

They tossed all the stupid, locker-room questions at her. What was Hayden like at three in the morning, would she tolerate his terrible cereal choices, could she beat Jason at Mario Kart.

It was nonsense and it was exactly what we were, a messy family of guys who used banter to measure each other. Coleen answered, sometimes with a laugh, sometimes with a sharp retort, and I watched the way she found space in the noise.

At one point, Jason threw me a look, the kind that’s half mischief, half appraisal, and mouthed, She’s solid. I felt a weird, warm tightness at my ribs. Solid. I liked that word coming from him. He wasn’t the type to dole out praise, not unless it was warranted.

We set up a battered console and launched into a ridiculous game of Mario Kart.

The screen lit the room with cheap neon as controllers slapped, curses flew, and everyone accused everyone else of cheating.

Coleen surprised us by taking lead after lead, laughing at her own luck and making impish, competitive faces when Jason protested. He tried to play up indignation, but she grinned and kept winning. I almost fell off the couch just watching her ease into the group, the awkward edges softening.

Between rounds, Logan pulled me aside. “Keep her close, man,” he said quietly, hand thumping my shoulder. “She’s good. Don’t blow it.” He didn’t say it like an order. He said it like a fact. Having that from your teammates, guys who tape your skates and stitch your wounds, meant more than any congratulations.

I caught Coleen’s eye from across the room. She caught mine, held on, gave me a look that said thank you without words.

The way her mouth curved, the small crease by her eye when she laughed, those were the things that pushed a quiet, steady pride through me. Not the loud boasting or the silly chants, but the steady fact that she’d weathered this room and come out sharper, confident.

The night moved on and the guys tried their best to beat her, but she parried each blow with a calmness that became its own armor. It made me protective in the nicest way, like wanting to guard a lamp so its light never got knocked out.

At one point she wandered over and sat beside me on the couch, close enough that our knees almost touched.

Jason tried to explain why he was unbeatable at impressions and failed miserably, Logan narrated a fake horror-story about the worst team skins. She listened, smirking, then tossed back a line I won’t forget.

She said, “If your impressions are all that, the world’s in trouble.”

By the time the room thinned, it felt like we’d passed some informal initiation.

The guys clapped each other on the back, exchanged half-meaningful jabs about rematch nights and who owed who a pizza. I watched Coleen laugh, all worry gone from her face for those stretches, and felt something settle that had been jittery for weeks.

Walking out into the cool evening, the campus felt almost sacred, silent paths lit by orange streetlamps, a few clusters of students drifting past. Her fingers threaded through mine easily, without the exaggerated show of being a couple, just a small, private habit.

When we reached the corner by her apartment, she hesitated, thumb rubbing a nervous pattern on my palm. “Thanks for tonight,” she said quietly. “For bringing me. For...” She stopped, searching for the right phrasing. “For letting me in.”

I sucked in a breath, the night wind cutting cleanly across my face. “You didn’t need me to bring you,” I corrected, but my voice was soft. “I wanted you there.”

Her smile was small and honest. “Then I’ll keep coming.”

I wanted to say something big, some grand vow to protect or shield, but everything I wanted to promise felt too loud for the moment. So I said something quiet instead. “I like that you stayed, that you fought through the nerves. It means a lot.”

She leaned up and pressed a quick, warm kiss to my cheek and stepped back with that half-smile that had started to feel familiar, like a new, comforting landmark.

But that wasn't going to cut it for me so I grabbed her face and kissed her until we both needed to let up for air.

The guys texted later. Jason sent a victory GIF and an overblown claim about our rematch and Logan sent a single thumbs-up emoji.

I typed something snarky back, then set the phone down. Inside me, something solidified. These were people who knew me, who accepted what mattered to me. More than acceptance, they offered an odd kind of blessing.

And I was grateful for the team I had. That was why I walked back home with a smile on my face.