Their food arrived, interrupting the moment. Bennett was grateful for it. The conversation had gotten too close to something he wasn’t ready to examine.
But as they ate, trading comments about the mediocre food and the surreal situation, Bennett found himself relaxing again. Jasper had a way of pushing without pushing, of creating space for honesty without demanding it.
It was unsettling.
It was also kind of nice.
The conversation stayed light. Bennett even laughed once, surprised at the sound of it. Jasper’s grin in response was immediate, like he had been waiting to see that crack of realness.
When they returned upstairs,the hallway was dim, lit by emergency lights that made everything feel cinematic in a way Bennett despised.
Jasper unlocked the door. “After you.”
Bennett stepped inside and stopped short.
The bed was turned down. Two extra blankets had been delivered. It looked welcoming, like the room had decided to be complicit.
Bennett stared at it. “We cannot keep doing this.”
Jasper set his keys down. “Sleeping.”
“Sharing,” Bennett snapped, then immediately regretted the edge in his voice.
Jasper looked at him. “Do you want me to sleep somewhere else?”
Bennett’s mind short circuited. The obvious answer was yes. The responsible answer was yes. The answer his body wanted was something else entirely, and that was unacceptable.
He swallowed. “No.”
Jasper’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “No?”
Bennett crossed to the desk and set his phone down with too much care. “It is fine. We are adults. It’s a bed.”
Jasper’s voice was soft, almost amused. “It is a bed.”
Bennett turned to face him. Jasper was standing near the foot of it, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. The light from the window painted his profile in pale edges.
Bennett’s stomach flipped.
Jasper took a small step closer. “Bennett.”
Bennett held still. “What?”
Jasper’s gaze dropped to Bennett’s mouth again. He did not hide it this time. He did not pretend it was accidental.
Bennett’s breath caught.
The air between them felt electric.
Jasper spoke quietly, clearly. “If I kiss you, will you regret it?”
Bennett’s brain screamed to say yes. His body refused to cooperate.
He stared at Jasper, at the patience and the question and the impossible kindness of being asked instead of pushed.
“I don’t know,” Bennett admitted, voice rougher than he intended.
Jasper nodded, like that was an answer he could work with. He stepped closer anyway, slow, giving Bennett every chance to move away.
