It only took about three minutes for them to realize that the screen was too small to be as far away as it was. Jordan moved so Cree could sit up, pulling the phone from the glass with a velcro-like sound that made them both giggle.
When he laid back down, he placed the phone in his right hand, letting it rest on his flat stomach, seemingly content to hold it there for the entirety of the movie. When he looked at him expectantly, Jordan laid back down, only now he had to curl into Cree’s side to see the screen.
The adjustment felt intimate in a way Jordan wasn’t prepared for, like the room itself was quietly insisting they be closer.
He maneuvered himself onto his side, trying to figure out a way to lay without being presumptive. Every possibleposition felt like too much. Or not enough.
“You can lay on me. That’s why I put my arm out,” Cree said gently. “Get as close as you’re comfortable being. I don’t mind.”
“Oh,” Jordan said, cheeks growing hot.
Why was he being so awkward?
He shook it off, doing what he wanted, curling his body into Cree’s, letting his leg settle over his, resting his head on his chest. His heart was beating embarrassingly fast now, every nerve ending awake, a sharp contrast to the slow, heavy thud of Cree’s heartbeat beneath his ear.
How was he so calm?
Cause you’re just watching a movie, idiot.
Unless Cree expected more. Jordan had said he’d make out with him. Oh, God. He’d said he’d make out with him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to make out with him. He did. He so did. But he had maybe embellished a little when he said he had experience with things outside of sex.
Fuck.
Should he move?
Before he had a chance to worry himself into an aneurysm, Cree’s hand landed on the back of his head, fingers threading through his curls.
Not gripping. Not guiding. Just there.
Jordan stilled, breath hitching despite himself.
Cree didn’t say anything.
He just stayed like that—fingers warm in Jordan’s hair, thumb brushing once, absently, like he wasn’t even thinking about it. Like touching Jordan was instinct, like he didn’tfind just lying there with him boring.
Jordan exhaled slowly, his body giving in despite his racing thoughts. The noise of the storm against the glass faded. The house disappeared. The movie played on, forgotten almost immediately.
Could he hear how hard Jordan’s heart was pounding? Could he feel how tense he was, how hot he felt? Did Jordan smell okay? He’d showered and everything before they got there but now he was hyper-aware of everything—his own breath, the way his chest rose too fast, the faint drag of fabric where his hoodie twisted under him. Cree’s body heat soaked into his, his fingers playing at the nape of his neck, the way the side of his thigh was pressed right against Jordan’s zipper.
Every point of contact felt loud.
“Relax,” Cree said softly. “We’re just watching a movie. I promise I won’t try anything.”
“What if I wanted you to?” Jordan said, then snapped his mouth shut, squeezing his eyes shut. “Forget I said that.”
The words hung between them, fragile and dangerous.
Cree’s fingers tightened in Jordan’s hair—not in a painful way or even a sexual way, but more in a way that anchored him, the hard tug soothing all of the frayed edges. Like Cree was physically holding him in place. Keeping him here.
“I won’t forget it,” Cree said. “But I also won’t act on it. Not tonight.”
“Oh,” Jordan said, feeling both relieved and disappointed. Both emotions landed heavy, tangled together in his chest.
“Don’t overthink it,” Cree said. “I haven’t earned theright to any part of you yet.”
“Earned?” Jordan echoed.
“Mm.”
