Page 11 of Campus Fake

She exhaled with me.

“Again. In.”

The engines roared as the plane began to accelerate, pressing us back into our seats. Sam’s fingers flew up and wrapped around my wrists, holding on like I was the only solid thing in her universe.

God, she had no idea what I’d give to be the man she clung to during life’s storms.

Her grip was strong—stronger than I would have expected—and I welcomed it. I’d be whatever she needed to hold on to. An anchor. A lifeline. Anything.

“Out,” I said, exhaling. “Slow. You’re okay.”

“I’m not—” Her voice broke. “Harry, I can’t⁠—”

“You can.” I brushed my thumb across her cheekbone, wiping away moisture that made my heart clench painfully in my chest. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

The plane lifted off the ground and Sam squeezed her eyes shut. A small sound escaped her throat—not quite a whimper, but close.

“Look at me,” I urged.

She opened her eyes again, her gaze locking on mine. I kept breathing with her. In. Out. Steady and slow. My hands stayed on her face, anchoring her, and gradually the tension in her shoulders began to ease. Her grip on my wrists loosened from desperate to simply holding. Her breaths started to match mine.

The seatbelt sign dinged off.

But I didn’t move. Neither did she.

We stayed like that as the plane steadied at altitude, the flight attendants began moving through the cabin, and the world below became a patchwork of clouds and distant earth. I didn’t care if anyone was watching.

All I cared about was the color slowly returning to Sam’s cheeks. The way her breathing had steadied and her gaze on mine had filled with longing instead of panic.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

I let my hands fall from her face but didn’t pull away entirely. I held her hand on the armrest, maintaining contact as much for her as for me. She needed to know I wasn’t going anywhere. And I needed to know she wasn’t going to shut me out.

“You don’t have to thank me every time I show up for you.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “It’s called being polite, Harry.”

“It’s called deflecting.” I held her gaze. “Trust me, I want to be here.”

A weighted beat passed between us, and the air practically sizzled with tension before I broke our gaze.

“Now…” I glanced toward the aisle, then back at her. “Is this about the plane or your family?”

I already suspected the answer, but I wanted to see if she’d tell me the truth.

Something shuttered behind her eyes. That wall again, slamming back into place. But slower this time, like she was tired of holding it up.

She turned her head slightly, looking back toward where Jordan sat. I followed her gaze. Her brother had his eyes closed, head tipped back against the seat, earbuds firmly in place. He was either sleeping or pretending to.

“There are things you don’t know,” Sam said quietly. She turned back to face me, and for once, she didn’t try to smile or deflect. “Things about my family. About why I haven’t been home. And I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it, even though…” She swallowed. “Even though I know you deserve to know what you’re walking into.”

I thought about all the questions I’d stored up over the past year. I’d been patient this long. I could be patient a little longer.

“I’ll handle whatever it is,” I said. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. But I’m here when you are.”

She stared at me for a moment. Like she was searching for a catch or some hidden agenda. I let her look. I had nothing to hide. Not from her.

Whatever she found must have satisfied her, because her expression relaxed and the tension she’d carried in her shoulders dropped.