Silas lifts his mug first. His voice is low, rough around the edges. “Fuck scent matches.”
For a second, we all just stare at him. But then, one by one, we raise our mugs too.
“Fuck scent matches,” we echo, clinking our glasses.
I swallow a mouthful of coffee-whiskey that burns all the way down.
For a moment, no one speaks. The fire pops. The storm presses at the windows.
Then Liam clears his throat. “This is going to sound wildly off-theme after that very cathartic toast,” he says, “but… does anyone want to watch a movie?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “Please.”
“Hell yes,” Felix says. “We’ve got like eighty DVDs. I can’t believe I forgot.”
Silas rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t object. They actually fall into an argument about options.
“Home Alone,” Felix insists. “Seasonal. Classic. There’s ice. There’s pain. It’s practically a sports documentary.”
“There’s two seconds of hockey,” Silas counters. “That doesn’t make it a sports movie.”
“Still counts,” Felix says.
While they bicker, I sink deeper into the corner of the couch. Felix shifts without thinking, his thigh pressing along mine. He doesn’t move away. Neither do I.
Liam eventually wins withThe Holiday. Classic. He dims the lights. Felix digs in a basket, comes up with a big knit throw, and tosses it over our laps. His fingers brush the bare skin of my wrist as he tucks the edge in.
My whole body notices.
“Warm enough?” he asks quietly as the opening credits roll.
“Yeah,” I say. My voice comes out softer than I expect. “Thanks.”
We watch in silence for a while. At some point my head leans back into the couch cushion and his knee nudges closer, our legs lined up from hip to knee.
I should probably move.
I don’t.
Somewhere during an especially ridiculous meet-cute, I realize Liam has gone quieter than usual, which I realize means he’s fallen asleep. On the other side of the couch, Silas’s head is tipped back, eyes closed.
It’s just me and Felix awake now. The TV paints the room in soft light.
He leans in to make a comment about the movie at the exact moment I turn to say something.
We end up far too close.
His breath ghosts over my mouth. I catch a faint trace of coffee, whiskey, and something all Felix sneaks past the DuoBlocks for half a second… or maybe my brain is filling in the blanks.
We freeze, and for a moment, we just look at each other.
Then, slowly, he dips his head that last inch.
Chapter fifteen
Silas
I lie still for a minute as I wake up, listening.
