Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother novel Chapter 249

Chapter 249: Penny

Apie

School hallways always smell the same like cheap sanitizer and pencil shavings and whatever someone spilled in their locker three months ago that no one’s been brave enough to clean.

It’s not exactly comforting, but it’s familiar.

And after the chaos that was winter break, familiar feels like a gift.

I tug my hoodie sleeves down over my wrists as I move through the crowd, dodging a group of freshman huddled around someone’s phone and stepping over a dropped protein bar wrapper like it’s an Olympic sport. Everyone’s talking over each other – slamming lockers, shuffling binders, laughing like they’ve already forgotten that yesterday was Monday.

Day two back. First full week of the new semester.

Rehearsals started again the moment break ended. Nine hours at school, four hours in the studio, then Asher waiting outside with food and that look on his face the one that says he’s trying not to hover but failing miserably.

I kind of love it.

He never lets me skip dinner, no matter how late it is.

Some nights it’s pho. Sometimes sushi. Last Friday it was tacos so overloaded they fell apart in my lap and he just handed me a stack of napkins like he’d been prepared for the disaster.

He watches me eat like it’s his job. Like I’m going to vanish if he blinks.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so seen. Or so steady!

I shift my backpack higher on my shoulder and sidestep someone who’s walking too slow. I’m already halfway to my locker when I check my phone and see his reply to the message I sent earlier.

Thanks for the good luck text. Already made someone nervous with just a look. I think I’m thriving.

I grin down at the screen, typing back:

Try not to make anyone cry before lunch.

He reads it immediately but doesn’t reply. Probably mid–briefing or already scaring someone into submission with his resting murder face.

I round the corner, mind already halfway into my rehearsal schedule, when something warm and solid loops around my shoulders and steers me sideways with zero warning.

“Relax,” a voice says close to my ear. “It’s not a kidnapping. Unless it gets me out of Calc.”

1/4

Chapter 249: Penny

I don’t even have to look. I know that voice.

Max.

“You’re touchy before noon,” I say, adjusting my bag.

“Don’t act like you’re not thrilled to see me.”

–

I tilt my head up, and yep there’s the smug grin. He’s got a hoodie layered under a denim jacket, scuffed- up sneakers, hair a little messy like he either just woke up or actively rebelled against brushing it. Knowing Max, it’s both.

“You’re walking me to class now?” I ask. “This is new.”

“Just securing my image,” he says, steering us past a cluster of theater kids practicing choreography with way too much enthusiasm. “Friend of a celebrity and all.”

I snort. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot,” he says, casual and loud enough to make someone nearby glance over. “Don’t ruin the

moment.”

I shake my head, smiling despite myself.

It’s been a week since I saw him – since the night outside the restaurant, when he showed up with Piper and she tackled me like I was her long–lost fairy godmother. I still think about that moment. Her little voice asking if I’d still be dancing at the gala. Her hug. The way Max looked at her like she hung the damn

moon.

“How’s she doing?” I ask now, softening my voice just a little.

“Piper?” Max nods. “Still spinning through the house like every floor is a stage. Nearly broke the coffee table yesterday doing what she called a ‘flying twirl of elegance.“”

“She okay?”

“She’s great. She’s been stressed about school and making friends…” He trails off, then glances at me. “I think seeing you helped.”

I look down for a second, throat tight. “She helped me too.”

We walk in silence for a moment, weaving through the crowd as the noise around us rises and falls. The hallway bends toward the upper class wing. I don’t really care where we’re going. Neither does he.

He nudges me with his shoulder. “So. New semester. You surviving?”

“Barely.”

2/4

Chapter 249: Penny

“You still doing those four–hour rehearsals?”

“Try five. Gala’s in five weeks.”

He winces. “And you love that?”

“I don’t know if I love it,” I say honestly. “But it helps.”

“Helps how?”

I shrug. “Helps me feel like I’m in control of something. Like I’m still me.”

He nods like he gets it. Because he does.

Max has always been like that — no digging, no pushing, just quiet understanding.

We pass a wall lined with art projects from last semester. One of them is a charcoal portrait of a wolf that looks like it was drawn by someone mid–breakdown. I point at it.

“That’s what I looked like after my first cold brew this morning.”

Max chuckles. “That’s generous. You looked worse.”

“I hate you.”

He grins. “You missed me.”

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