He shook his head like I’d said the most ridiculous thing. “Reese, it’s the Finals.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He glanced at the ceiling, then back at me. “Ask any of the guys. Ask Cass or Josie. This is how it goes.”
“I don’t give a shit about anyone else, Theo,” I said, rounding on him. “I care about you.”
The elevator arrived, and we stepped inside. The doors closed with a soft sigh.
“I’m not asking for everything,” I went on as if there was no pause in our conversation. “I just don’t like this feeling.”
He angled his head. “What feeling?”
I tried to make sense of it so I could tell him, but the words in my head scattered before I could catch them. It made me feel useless, and I just stood there.
He stepped closer. Close enough that I could feel heat through his hoodie.
“Let me give you another feeling then,” he said.
His hand cupped my jaw and he kissed me. Hard. Familiar. His mouth moved against mine with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how to derail me. My suitcase bumped the wall. His knuckles pressed at my hip as he pressed himself against me.
For a few seconds, I let it happen. Let the kiss do what it was meant to do. Distract. Replace.
The elevator dinged.
He pulled back, thumb wiping at his mouth as he gave me a look that sent shivers through me.
“See you on the bus,” he said, stepping out.
I stood there a beat longer, fingers curled around the handle of my suitcase. My lips tingled, and my chest felt too full.
His kiss lingered, but that gnawing feeling from before… that was still there.
*
The apartment door clicked shut behind me, and the weight of the day slid off with it. Theo was already sprawled on his bed, heavy limbs tangled in the sheets. He didn’t even look awake enough to open an eye.
I dropped my bag on the floor, got undressed, and slid in beside him. The mattress dipped under both of us. My hand found his chest, his skin warm. His shoulder pressed lightly into mine.
“This is good,” I murmured, letting the tension leak out of my voice.
A low hum of agreement vibrated through him. Half asleep, he shifted closer. His lips brushed the curve of my shoulder. His arms settled over me, familiar and comforting.
I let my head fall against his chest. Silence stretched, punctuated only by his steady breathing as I traced lazy circles on his forearm.
“I can taste the cup,” he mumbled. “We’re right there…”
I lifted my head. “Oh, you’re psychic now?”
A soft laugh. “Something like that.”
I tucked closer, breathing even and shallow, letting the bed rock slightly under us. Sleep crept in, promising nothing complicated, just presence. This was what I’d been missing. Just being close to him.
Then he shifted, pulling me against him more deliberately, and a grunt cut through the quiet.
I startled. “Theo?”
He winced, hand brushing over his shoulder as he sat upright. “It’s nothing. Just a spasm.”
