"Get used to it." He yawns. "I plan on making you happy for a very long time."
I hold him tighter and let myself believe it.
***
The Daily Grind is packed when we arrive, but our usual corner booth is miraculously empty. Probably because Wes is standing guard over it like a very large, very intimidating bouncer.
"There they are!" Braiden spots us first, bouncing out of his seat. He's wearing a sweater that says "SEROTONIN" with a little molecule diagram. "The power couple! The dynamic duo! The—"
"Okay, that's enough," Wes says, pulling Braiden back down with one massive arm. But he's grinning. "Congrats, you two. Seriously."
"Thanks, Wes." Sam slides into the booth, tugging me after him. "Where's everyone else?"
"Toby's getting drinks," Jionni says from across the table. He's sprawled out, arm draped over the back of the booth, looking like he owns the place. "And before you ask—yes, I already told Marcel to put everything on my tab."
"You have a tab here?" I ask.
"It's called an IOU and a smile," Toby corrects, appearing with a tray of drinks. "Marcel tolerates him because he fixed the espresso machine once."
"Fixed is a strong word," Jionni admits. "I hit it. It started working."
Toby distributes the drinks efficiently—coffee for Braiden, something iced for Wes, a complicated-looking espresso thing for Sam. He slides a black coffee in front of me. "Congratulations. Both of you. That took real courage."
Sam takes a sip of his drink and makes a happy sound. "God, I needed this."
"You needed sleep," I point out.
"I'll sleep when I'm dead. Or after the internship. Whichever comes first."
The table dissolves into laughter and conversation. I sit back and watch, something warm expanding in my chest.
A month ago, I didn't have this. I had classes and competition and a silent, obsessive longing for the boy in the yellow hoodie. I had colleagues, not friends. I had goals, not a life.
Now I have... everything.
Wes is telling a story about his latest game, gesturing so enthusiastically he nearly takes out Braiden's drink. Braiden is leaning into him, laughing, totally unafraid of the giant alphawho used to intimidate the entire campus. They fit together, the golden quarterback and the anxious genius. It shouldn't work, but it does.
Jionni is arguing with Toby about something—music, maybe, or whose turn it is to do laundry. But his hand is on Toby's knee under the table, and Toby is fighting a smile. The rebel and the rule-follower. Chaos and order. Another impossible match that somehow makes perfect sense.
And Sam. Sam is in the middle of it all, talking with his hands, stealing sips of everyone else's drinks, making Braiden snort coffee out his nose with some terrible pun. He's bright and loud and alive, and he's mine.
He catches me watching and raises an eyebrow.You okay?
I nod slightly.Better than okay.
He grins and turns back to the conversation, but his hand finds mine under the table.
"So what's the plan?" Wes asks, leaning forward. "You two start the internship in June, right? Where are you gonna live?"
"We're going to look at apartments," Sam says. "Something close to the office. Devan wants a place with good light. I want a place with a bathtub."
"Priorities," Jionni snorts.
"Hey, after the semester we've had, I deserve a bathtub. With jets. And those little bath bomb things."
"You're high-maintenance," I tell him.
"You love it."
