Chapter 32

Riley’s POV

We were four days into the Climax when reality finally gate-crashed our non-stop hanky-panky marathon. Our sex drives were still orbiting Pluto, but by day three, the sheer amount of “horizontal cardio” had our brains short-circuiting. On day four, the universe decided we deserved a snack break.

“We’re going to starve,” I moaned as I swung open the fridge, half-hoping it had magically restocked itself. Nope. Just an eight-percent-empty gallon of milk and the sad skeletons of ketchup, mayo, and mustard. “We’ve literally eaten ourselves out of house and home.”

Standing there naked with my hair plastered into a delightful chaos, I felt like a shampoo commercial gone rogue. I’d skipped Friday’s classes, betting the Climax would wrap up by Monday. Honesty? I was low-key terrified of missing a single second of it, even if my GPA was about to take a nosedive.

Noah lounged on the counter—also naked, because logical. Two days ago, I lectured him on