The door to Khloei’s dorm room swung open with a groan, revealing a space so small it could barely contain the chaos of her new life. Cardboard boxes were stacked haphazardly against the beige walls of her one-person room at Wichita State University, the faint musty scent of stale dorm air clinging to everything. A rickety desk, a mismatched chair, and a twin bed with a mattress that looked like it had seen better decades completed the sad little tableau. But Khloei didn’t care about the decor—or lack thereof. Her eyes were on Peyton, who stood in the doorway, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a grin that could melt steel.
“Well, damn, Khloei, you sure know how to pick a palace,” Peyton drawled, dropping the bag with a thud and surveying the mess. His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned against the doorframe, all casual confidence in his faded band tee and worn jeans. “I’ve been dreaming of getting you close for a whole year, and this is the romantic hideaway I get? I feel like I’m starring in a low-budget horror flick.”
Khloei smirked, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face as she kicked a box aside with the toe of her combat boot. “Oh, please, drama queen. You’ve been whining about missing me for twelve months straight, and now you’re gonna complain about my five-star accommodations? Should’ve known you’d be all talk and no action.” Her voice was sharp, teasing, but her gaze lingered on him just a second too long, drinking in the way his shoulders filled out that shirt after all those late-night video calls.
Peyton laughed, stepping into the room and nudging a box with his foot. “All talk, huh? Babe, I’ve been saving up a year’s worth of action just for you. Better watch out—I might just sweep you off your feet and into that sad excuse for a bed before we even unpack a single sock.”
Khloei arched a brow, crossing her arms over her chest, her tank top clinging just enough to make Peyton’s eyes flicker downward for a split second. “Sweep me off my feet? Honey, you’ll be lucky if I don’t make you carry every damn box up here just to prove you’ve still got some muscle under all that long-distance laziness. Now grab that one over there and stop staring like a lost puppy.”
Their banter was a familiar dance, honed over countless texts and calls, but being in the same room after so long added a new edge to it—a crackling undercurrent of tension that neither could ignore. Peyton obeyed, hefting a box labeled “Books & Junk” with an exaggerated grunt. “Yes, ma’am. Anything for my queen. But just so you know, I’m only doing this ‘cause I’m hoping for a reward later.”
Khloei snorted, ripping open a box of her own and pulling out a stack of clothes. “A reward? Peyton, the only thing you’re getting is a front-row seat to me bossing you around. You’ve gone soft on me, haven’t you? All those late-night ‘I miss you’ calls must’ve turned your charm rusty.”
“Rusty?” Peyton shot back, setting the box down and stepping closer, his voice dropping a notch. “Babe, my charm’s polished and ready to go. You’re the one who’s been holding out on me. What’s it been, a year? I’m surprised you even remember what to do with a guy in the same zip code.”
She laughed, sharp and bright, and tossed a balled-up shirt at his chest. “Oh, I remember plenty. And trust me, I’m about to remind you who’s in charge here. Don’t think just ‘cause you’re finally in Kansas, you get to call the shots.”
Their hands brushed as they reached for the same box, and the air seemed to thicken. Khloei didn’t pull away, her fingers lingering against his for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Peyton’s smirk faltered, replaced by something softer, hungrier. “Careful, Khloei,” he murmured, his voice low. “Keep looking at me like that, and I might forget we’ve got unpacking to do.”
She tilted her head, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “Who said I’m in a rush to unpack? Maybe I’ve got other priorities.” Her tone was commanding, daring him to make a move, and before he could respond, she stepped closer, her hand brushing against his arm as she “accidentally” bumped into him while reaching for another box.
The tension snapped like a taut wire. Peyton caught her wrist gently, pulling her just close enough that their breaths mingled. “You’re playing a dangerous game, boss lady,” he teased, but his eyes were dark with want.
Khloei didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned in, her voice a husky whisper. “Good thing I always win. Now, are you gonna keep talking, or are you gonna show me what a year of waiting looks like?”
They stumbled toward the creaky twin bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter, the boxes forgotten. Clothes hit the floor with clumsy urgency, and Khloei took the lead, straddling him with a confidence that made Peyton’s breath hitch. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” she taunted, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw as she pinned him beneath her. “Thought you said you had all this action saved up for me.”
Peyton grinned, his hands finding her hips. “Nervous? Nah. Just trying to keep up with you, wildfire. You’re not making this easy.”
“Good,” she shot back, leaning down to kiss him, her lips fierce and demanding. “I don’t do easy.”
Their first time was a mix of fumbling and giggles, the bed squeaking obnoxiously beneath them as they figured each other out in person for the first time. Every awkward moment was punctuated by sharp quips and breathless laughter—Peyton cracking a joke about the mattress sounding like a dying animal, Khloei retorting that he’d better focus on her instead of the furniture. But beneath the humor was a raw, emotional reconnection, a year of longing pouring out in every touch, every whispered word.
When it was over, they lay tangled in the cheap, scratchy sheets, breathless and grinning like idiots. Khloei propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at Peyton with a smug smirk. “Not bad for a rusty charmer. But don’t get too comfortable—I’m already thinking about round two.”
Peyton laughed, pulling her closer. “Damn, woman, give a guy a minute to recover. You’re insatiable.”
She quirked a brow, her tone dripping with challenge. “Better get used to it, babe. We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for, and I’m not waiting another second.”
Their laughter echoed in the tiny dorm room, the mess of boxes and stale air forgotten. They were just getting started.
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