Hell, I am used to it.
I don’t ever want it to end.
Now, as I walk across campus to meet her at the coffee shop, I already know exactly where she’ll be—standing in line, probably scrolling through her phone, bopping along to the never ending jukebox in her head.
I spot her the second I step inside.
She’s got her hair in a braid, her sleeves pushed over her hands, her weight shifted onto one foot, like she’s trying to decide what to order, even though she always gets the same thing.
She doesn’t see me yet.
So, I do what I always do.
I claim her.
Sliding up behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her into my chest, letting her feel all of me against her. She tenses for half a second before sighing, her body melting against mine, knowing it’s me instantly.
I dip my head, my lips brushing just near her ear, my voice low and easy. "Morning, beautiful."
Madison leans into me, her body relaxing like she’s done it a hundred times before. And maybe she has—maybe we’ve always been this close, always been skirting around each other, waiting for something to snap into place.
Only now? Now, it finally has.
She tilts her head up slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Morning, hotshot.”
I smirk, not letting go of her waist. “No new name for me yet?”
She shrugs, but I catch the way her cheeks flush just slightly.
The line moves forward, and I unwrap my arms from around her just long enough to let her order.
“Medium peppermint mocha please with an extra shot,” shetells the barista, barely looking up from her phone as she pulls up her student discount.
“And a large black coffee,” I add, handing over my card before she can even think about paying.
She glares at me, crossing her arms. “Jax?—”
I smirk, taking my receipt and ignoring her protest. “What kind of man lets his girl pay for her own coffee?”
Her lips part slightly, like she wasn’t expecting that word, but she doesn’t argue. She just shakes her head, lips curling into something soft, something fond.
We step off to the side, waiting for our drinks, and I reach for her hand, linking my fingers with hers.
“So, Thanksgiving is next week,” I say, keeping my tone easy. “You got plans?”
She hesitates, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth. “I don’t know… Probably just a quiet day at the apartment.”
I frown. “Not going with Lyla to family dinner?”
She shakes her head. “Her and her dad are using the long weekend to go drive up to see her grandma. It’s no big deal. I’ll just relax.”
I tighten my grip on her fingers, my chest tightening slightly at the idea of her spending Thanksgiving alone.
“Come home with me.”
Her brows lift. “Jax?—”
“Mads, come on.” I tilt my head, studying her. “You know my mom is already expecting you. She probably set a place at the table before I even mentioned it.”
