9

Y/N woke up with a headache and a memory she couldn't get rid of.

Rodrick's lips.

Rodrick's hands.

Rodrick whispering things that made her skin burn hotter than the Hawaiian sun.

She sat up slowly, spotting a glass of water and two painkillers on the nightstand. A sticky note beside them read:

"Drink these or die. - R."

She rolled her eyes. Smiled. And then remembered they kissed.

Twice.

And not just kissed.

She touched her lips unconsciously.

Damn it.

Rodrick was nowhere to be found when she got up. Which was good. And annoying. Mostly annoying.

By the time Y/N made it to breakfast, Rodrick was across the lanai with his friends - laughing, smirking, acting completely unaffected.

She sat with Sam, who was watching her like a hawk.

"You did something," he said.

"I didn't."

"You did."

She sipped her juice. "Shut up."

Rodrick caught her eye from across the patio. Raised one eyebrow. Bit into a pineapple wedge with maddening slowness.

Y/N dropped her fork.

Sam leaned in. "Oh my God. You did something."

Before she could answer, Heather walked by their table, shoulder-checking Y/N's arm.

"You're not even his type," she sneered.

Y/N blinked. "You mean desperate and clingy? True."

Heather stopped. "You think he actually likes you? Rodrick likes fun. He likes temporary."

"Then I guess I'm perfect," Y/N snapped back. "Because nothing about this trip is permanent - especially you."

Sam let out a low whistle.

Heather's nostrils flared.

Rodrick saw the whole thing.

And that look in his eyes?

Yeah, that wasn't casual.

~Later That Night~

Everyone was supposed to be in their rooms by 11.

It was past midnight.

Y/N was staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning, heart refusing to settle.

She hated him. She wanted him. She hated how much she wanted him.

And then the door creaked open.

Rodrick stepped in, shirt wrinkled, hair a mess from the ocean wind.

"Can't sleep?" he asked softly.

She sat up, arms crossed. "What do you want?"

He shut the door behind him.

Locked it.

And just stood there, looking at her in the dark like she was something he'd been trying not to touch for days.

"I tried staying away."

Y/N's voice was low. "Didn't try hard enough."

Rodrick moved closer.

Each step louder than it should've been.

He stood at the edge of her bed, looking down at her.

"You kissed me first, remember?"

"You didn't exactly stop it."

He leaned in.

His hand brushed her knee, slid up her thigh.

"You want me to stop now?"

She didn't answer.

Didn't breathe.

Then - quietly, dangerously - she whispered:

"No."

It happened fast and slow all at once.

One second she was pulling him down. The next, his mouth was on hers - hot, hungry, desperate.

Their lips clashed like they hated each other, because maybe part of them still did.

But underneath it was need. Raw and real and messy.

Rodrick pushed her back gently, climbing over her, hands at her hips, his rings cold against her skin.

"Tell me to stop," he breathed.

She wrapped her legs around him. "Shut up and kiss me."

Clothes hit the floor. His shirt. Her tank top. Shorts. Everything.

They didn't care if someone heard.

Didn't care if it was wrong.

All they knew was this:They couldn't stop.

It was wild. It was loud. It was them.

And when it was over, Rodrick collapsed beside her, breathing hard, sweat sticking to his chest.

For a minute, neither of them spoke.

Then he looked over, hair in his face, eyes soft for once.

"You good?"

Y/N turned to him, lips swollen, body still humming.

"No. And I don't think I want to be."

He grinned.

Pulled her close.

And whispered, "Good. Because we're so screwed."