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It started like every forced team night did: too much beer, Angela’s unstoppable willpower, and Tim’s annoyed grumbling that didn’t fool anyone.
Lucy’s living room was packed — Angela and Wesley tangled together on the loveseat, Nolan and Bailey sharing a blanket on the floor, Nyla curled up in the armchair with James’ legs over hers. Tim sat stiffly at the end of the couch, arms crossed, clearly regretting letting Angela talk him into this. Lucy sat next to him, knees brushing his thigh every time she shifted. He hadn’t moved away once.
A pizza box sat open on the coffee table, half-empty tequila bottle beside it. Nolan, of course, brought out the dreaded Truth or Dare once the drinks flowed enough.
“I can’t believe grown adults are doing this,” Tim muttered under his breath.
Lucy nudged him with her shoulder. “Relax, Sarge. What’s the worst that could happen?”
He shot her a look. “You don’t want an answer to that.”
“Shut up, Bradford!” Angela called. “Okay, Wesley — truth or dare?”
It started light — embarrassing high school stories, someone texting an ex “I miss you,” Bailey doing a terrible cartwheel in Lucy’s hallway. Everyone roared with laughter until Nolan’s stupid beer bottle spun and pointed straight at Lucy.
“Ohhh, rookie’s up!” Nolan cackled. “Truth or dare, Chen?”
Lucy crossed her arms, matching Tim’s posture just to annoy him. “Dare.”
Angela clapped her hands dramatically. “Perfect. I dare you… to sit in Tim’s lap for the next two rounds.”
Lucy’s jaw dropped. “Angela!”
“Don’t ‘Angela’ me! It’s called team bonding.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Unless you’re chicken.”
Lucy flicked a glance at Tim. His expression was unreadable except for the muscle ticking in his jaw. She could back out — say no, make a joke — but her heart thudded at the idea. She’d wanted to cross this line for months.
She stood up, turned, and sank into his lap before she could think too hard. Tim’s hands instinctively settled at her hips to steady her. Warm, firm, too gentle.
The whole room went feral.
“Oh my God, finally!” Nolan crowed.
“Get a room!” Wesley called, grinning as Angela shushed him.
Nyla just sipped her wine with an amused, “About damn time.”
Lucy could feel Tim’s heartbeat through his chest. She forced herself to play it cool. “You comfy, Bradford?”
“Real cozy, Chen,” he rasped in her ear. His breath hit her neck, and her pulse spiked.
The game rolled on, barely — no one cared about Nolan licking salt off Bailey’s neck when this was happening in front of them. Lucy tried to focus but every shift of Tim’s thigh under her made her brain misfire. She could feel his fingertips digging into her side like he was holding himself back.
When her two rounds were up, Angela didn’t even bother spinning the bottle. “Okay, Lucy. Truth or dare — again.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Truth.”
Angela grinned like a shark. “Have you ever thought about Tim while—”
“ANGELA!” Lucy squeaked, face flaming. Tim’s grip on her hips tightened.
“Oh my God, you have!” Nolan howled, clutching his chest dramatically.
Lucy buried her burning face in Tim’s shoulder. “This is harassment!”
“Answer the question, Chen,” Nyla teased.
Tim’s voice was low, dangerous. “You don’t have to answer that.”
Lucy lifted her head, met his eyes — saw that flicker of something raw and terrified in his usually steady gaze. Enough. If they were going to crash and burn tonight, so be it.
She swallowed. “Yes.”
The room went silent. A single beer bottle toppled over.
Tim’s breath hitched. “Lucy—”
Angela shrieked, “Oh my God, I KNEW IT! I knew it, I knew it—”
Lucy turned in his lap, facing him fully, knees bracketing his thighs. She was shaking. “Tim— say something.”
He stared at her like she was a ghost he’d been trying not to believe in. “You think I don’t?” he rasped. “You think I don’t lie awake at night—? God, Lucy, I’ve been trying not to—”
She cut him off. “Trying not to what?”
He swallowed. “Not to ruin this. Not to ruin you.”
“You wouldn’t,” she whispered.
He laughed, raw and broken. “You don’t know that.”
“Then prove it.” She leaned in until their foreheads touched. “Dare.”
Tim huffed a shaky breath. “What?”
“I dare you,” she said, voice trembling but steady, “to stop pretending you don’t want this.”
The room held its breath.
Tim’s eyes flicked to hers, then to her lips. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He surged forward and kissed her — not careful, not restrained, but hungry. A gasp broke from her throat as his hand tangled in her hair, the other holding her flush against him like he’d die if he let go.
The team erupted in shouts and wolf-whistles — but Lucy didn’t hear any of it. There was only Tim, warm and real, the line they’d tiptoed around for years finally obliterated.
When they broke apart, breathless, foreheads still pressed together, Lucy laughed through her tears. “Truth or dare, Bradford?”
Tim smirked, eyes soft. “Truth.”
She smiled. “Do you love me?”
He kissed her again, slow this time — a promise, an answer. When he pulled back, he whispered, “Always have, Luce.”
When they break apart, the room is still roaring — Nolan’s practically doing cartwheels on Lucy’s rug, Angela is shrieking at Wesley, and Nyla’s rolling her eyes with a smug, Finally smirk. But for Lucy and Tim, none of it sticks.
Lucy stays where she is, straddling his lap, her hands on either side of his face. She can feel him — solid muscle under her palms, every tense breath rattling through his chest.
Tim doesn’t look away. He studies her like he’s searching for an exit wound. Am I too late? Am I too much? — all in that look.
“Say something,” Lucy breathes, her forehead brushing his.
Tim lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. His voice is low, raw, private — not for the team, not for the tequila haze. Just for her. “I’ve wanted this for so long I don’t even know how to say it right.”
“You don’t have to say it right,” Lucy says. Her fingers slide into his hair, thumbs brushing his jaw. “Just say it real.”
He exhales, like he’s been holding this in his lungs for years. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t think about you all damn day. I’m tired of trying to keep my hands to myself when you look at me like that.” He lifts a hand, lets his knuckles graze her jaw, her throat — reverent, careful. “I’m tired of pretending you don’t make me want things I shouldn’t want.”
Lucy’s pulse thrums against his fingers. “Like what?”
His eyes flick down to her mouth, then lower, then back up. He’s silent for a beat — the longest second of her life. Then he says it, low enough only she can hear:
“Like you. In every possible way.”
Her breath catches. For a second, the noise around them fades to static. All she sees is him — the man who’s always had her back, always pulled her back from the edge, always kept his line perfectly drawn until tonight.
She leans in, her lips brushing his ear. “Then let’s stop pretending.”
His hand slides to her waist, warm and heavy, pulling her closer until there’s no air left between them. His voice is rough against her skin. “Lucy—”
She cuts him off, not with a kiss but a confession. “I don’t want to be careful tonight, Tim. I don’t want to wait for permission or a hundred more almosts. Take me home. Or don’t even wait that long.”
Tim’s laugh is quiet, disbelieving — dark around the edges. He shifts under her, her thighs tightening instinctively around him, and when he looks up, the heat in his eyes says every polite pretense is gone.
“Team’s still here,” he rasps, teasing but tense.
Lucy smiles, wicked and warm. “I know where my bedroom is.”
Tim huffs a low curse, presses his forehead to hers, then turns to the room, voice louder but steady. “Truth or dare, Nolan?”
Nolan, mid-beer sip, blinks. “Huh? Me?”
Tim’s eyes flick back to Lucy, smirking now. “Dare. I dare you to clean this mess up. And lock the door on your way out.”
The team explodes — whoops, laughter, Angela cackling like she’s just won a bet. But Tim only looks at Lucy, one brow lifted like he’s asking, Are you sure?
She answers by sliding off his lap, grabbing his hand, and tugging him to stand.
And when they disappear down the hallway, the noise fades behind them. It’s just them — no lines left to hold, no pretending to do. Just Lucy and Tim, about to learn what crossing that line really means when it’s just the two of them, the door closed, and the truth finally, finally free.