By the time winter break hit, Landon practically lived at the loft.
And, if we were being honest, I practically did too.
We studied there.
Ate there.
Fell asleep there more than once while pretending we were “just taking a break.”
He started keeping my favorite snacks in the kitchen.
I started leaving spare clothes in his dresser.
He’d pull me into his lap while I was trying to read case law summaries and then act wounded when I told him he was distracting me.
“You’re literally the one sitting on me,” he’d say.
“And yet somehow this is still your fault.”
“Seems unfair.”
“Life is unfair.”
“You sound like Mr. Jackson.”
“Take that back.”
He’d grin and kiss my shoulder.
And somehow, no matter how stressed I was, no matter how much work I had, no matter how terrified I was of the
