Chapter 6: A Dangerous Proximity**

Chapter 6: A Dangerous Proximity

The party swelled around me, a chaotic sea of laughter, booming bass from a portable speaker, and the clinking of bottles. I leaned against the porch railing, nursing the same beer for the better part of an hour, forcing a smile as Liam recounted a story about a failed chemistry experiment. I was nodding, laughing at the right moments, playing my part. But my focus was a tight beam, cutting through the noise to find Nadia.

She was by the fire pit, her face illuminated by the dancing flames, deep in conversation with Chloe. She looked so natural, so at ease, effortlessly weaving herself back into the fabric of our friend group. No one would ever suspect that just a few hours ago, she had been a wild, desperate thing in my arms in the back of my SUV. No one but me.

Our pact was a heavy cloak I wore over my skin. Every time she laughed, I wondered if she was thinking about it. Every time her eyes scanned the crowd, I held my breath, waiting for them to meet mine. But she was disciplined, sticking to Rule Number One: Act Normal. It was maddening. It was thrilling. The shared glance we’d had earlier was a potent memory, a secret I kept replaying in my mind. We were co-conspirators in plain sight.

“Alright, listen up, you degenerates!” Marco’s voice boomed from the porch steps, cutting through the music. He was holding a half-empty bottle of tequila like a scepter. “Time to claim your beds before you pass out on my floor. You know the drill. Chloe and Sarah, you get the loft. Liam, you’re on the pull-out couch again, sucks to be you.”

A chorus of groans and cheers went up. This was it. The moment that would define the rest of the weekend. My heart started a low, heavy thud against my ribs.

Marco continued, pointing with the bottle. “Nadia, you get your old room, the one at the end of the hall. And Nick…” He turned his grin on me, a grin full of brotherly affection and staggering obliviousness. “You get the guest room right next to her. So if she tries to sneak in any boys, you can sound the alarm.”

He winked. The crowd laughed. I felt the blood drain from my face.

It was a cruel joke. A cosmic punchline delivered by the one person we were trying to deceive. Our rooms were right next to each other. Separated by nothing more than a few inches of drywall. The thought was both a death sentence and a fantasy come true. Every rule we had just established was about to be pushed to its absolute breaking point.

I forced a laugh, clapping Marco on the back as he passed. “Yeah, man. I’ll be on guard duty.” The words felt like acid.

Nadia, from across the yard, shot me a look. It was quick, almost imperceptible, but I saw it all. The flash of shock, followed by a spark of pure, unadulterated mischief. A silent message flew between us: This changes things.

The party began to wind down an hour later. People dispersed in a slow, drunken migration toward their assigned sleeping spots. I said my goodnights, my movements stiff, my mind already focused on the hallway upstairs. I saw Nadia slip inside, and a few minutes later, I followed, my bag slung over my shoulder.

The upstairs hallway was quiet, a stark contrast to the lingering party downstairs. Her door was at the far end, closed. Mine was right beside it. I paused, my hand on the doorknob, listening. I could hear faint sounds from within her room—a drawer opening, the soft thud of a bag hitting the floor. She was just feet away.

I went into my room and shut the door, the click of the latch sounding like a cannon blast in the quiet. The room was simple: a bed, a dresser, a small window looking out over the dark, whispering lake. But the most prominent feature, the only one that mattered, was the wall. The thin, unassuming wall that separated me from her.

I pressed my ear against the cool paint, feeling like a degenerate. I could hear her moving around, the creak of floorboards, the faint rustle of clothing. My imagination went into overdrive. Was she undressing? Was she changing into pajamas? Was she thinking about me, about the rest stop, about the fact that I was right here, listening? This proximity was a unique and exquisite form of torture.

I stripped down to my boxers and slid into the bed, the sheets cool against my skin. I stared at the ceiling, my body wired, sleep an impossible fantasy. Every nerve was alight with a maddening awareness. The war I’d declared in the car had changed battlefields. It was no longer a game of touches and words, but a silent siege.

After what felt like an eternity, the noises from her room stopped. Silence. Was she asleep? Had the exhaustion of the day, of the performance, finally claimed her? Disappointment, sharp and sour, pricked at me.

I rolled over, my back to the wall, trying to force my mind to shut down. Just get through the night. Reset tomorrow.

Buzz-buzz.

The vibration of my phone on the nightstand sent a jolt through my entire system. I snatched it up so fast I almost dropped it. The screen lit up the dark room, displaying a new message. From her.

My thumb trembled as I swiped it open.

Nadia: That wall is way too thin.

My breath hitched. I read the words again. It wasn't an accusation. It was an invitation. A clear violation of Rule Number Three, but we both knew the rules had been rewritten the moment Marco assigned these rooms.

My fingers flew across the screen, my mind racing.

Me: I can hear you breathing.

The lie felt true. In my mind, I could. The three dots appeared immediately, then vanished, then appeared again. She was thinking, choosing her next words carefully. This was our new arena. A game of textual seduction, played out from opposite sides of a wall.

Buzz-buzz.

Nadia: I’m not wearing much.

A low groan escaped my lips. I squeezed my eyes shut, an image of her—in the back of my car, in the lace bra, in nothing at all—flashing behind my eyelids. I was losing my mind. This was more intimate, more agonizingly tempting than her hand on my thigh in the car. The denial, the proximity, the secrecy—it was a potent combination.

Me: You’re trying to kill me, Lopez.

Her reply was instantaneous.

Nadia: You said the war wasn’t over. I’m just fighting back.

She was right. And she was winning. I stared at the wall, at the plain, white paint that was now a screen for my most forbidden fantasies. I could almost feel the heat of her body through it.

My phone buzzed one last time. I looked down, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, a prelude to the chaos I knew was coming.

Nadia: Meet me at the lake. Midnight. Don’t get caught.

The game was far from over. It had just been escalated to a whole new level of risk. Staring at the message, at the explicit instruction to break every rule we’d made, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.

There was no way in hell I wasn't going.