Kat and Cole’s story is a rich, slow-burning college-age romance rooted in mutual respect, electric chemistry, and emotional unraveling. From deep conversations over matcha in a city coffee shop to whispered declarations in the rain, every layer of their relationship has been intentional. Friends noticed the shift before either of them admitted it—but once they did, everything intensified.

Their relationship is built on boundaries, deep compatibility, quiet acts of devotion, and primal, possessive love. Kat, once quiet in her affections, now walks with the feline confidence of a woman claimed—and claiming. Through illness, conflict, and late-night vulnerability, they’ve built something mature, loyal, and intimate—too real to be casual, too magnetic to be anything but fate.

The door shut behind Chelsea with a soft click, and the corridor outside the apartment complex was dim and quiet—except for the faint humming of the overhead light and the low echo of distant music from someone’s speaker a floor down.

Chelsea spotted him instantly.

Cole was leaned against the railing just a few paces down, phone in hand, dressed down in sweats and a tee that somehow made him look more like a Greek statue than a guy killing time outside. The moonlight cut a silver line across his cheekbone, and the moment she saw him, her eyes lit up like she’d just been handed dessert.

“Well, look who it is,” she said, stepping toward him in slow, teasing strides. “Kat’s keeper.”

Cole glanced up from his phone, surprised but polite. “Evening,” he said, voice calm, clipped.

Chelsea stopped in front of him, too close, arms crossed beneath her chest so her cleavage was showcased under her low-cut top. “You always this obedient?” she mused. “Waiting out here like a good little boy?”

He gave her a mild look, head tilted. “Just getting some air.”

“Mmm.” Her smile curled like smoke. “You know, you don’t have to play the loyal knight 24/7. Girls like Kat—girls like me—we get bored when our guys are too... tamed.”

His brow rose slightly. “Kat doesn’t seem bored.”

Chelsea laughed softly, then took a step closer, enough that the scent of her perfume drifted up between them—strong and citrusy. “That’s because she doesn’t know what she’s missing. You could wreck someone if you wanted to,” she purred. “And here you are, playing house.”

He pushed off the railing, still composed but wary. “You’re Kat’s friend. Let’s not do this.”

She moved with him, faster. Her hand landed on his chest, nails just grazing the fabric. “Don’t act like you don’t want it. I’ve seen the way you look. You’ve got all that size, all that control. Men like you aren’t meant to be... leashed.”

“Chelsea.” His voice sharpened slightly, fingers wrapping around her wrist—not tight, but firm enough to stop her hand from sliding lower. “I said no.”

She tilted her head, mock-pouting. “Wow. Twice rejected? What are you, a saint? Or is she that good?”

Cole’s jaw flexed. “She’s not a possession. And I’m not interested.”

Chelsea’s smile faltered just a touch, though her eyes still danced with challenge. “Guess I struck a nerve.”

“You crossed a line.”

There was a beat of silence between them. Then she snorted, stepping back with a flick of her hair. “Whatever. She’ll screw it up eventually. Girls like Kat always do.”

Cole didn’t reply.

Chelsea turned on her heel with one last parting glance, sharp and amused. “You’ll come around.”

She walked off, heels clicking against the concrete. Not in defeat—more like a game had just begun.

Cole exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose before heading inside, jaw tight.

He wasn’t going to tell Kat. Not yet. But something told him Chelsea wasn’t done.