Lincoln and Nixon, Mom and Frank, Hunter and John, a handful of Breakers teammates I half-recognized from games I’d watched on mute. Music and laughter and the pop of champagne corks at midnight, everyone counting down in a ragged chorus while the fireworks lit up the harbor.
Seth found me on the back porch just after the ball dropped, the party noise fading behind us as the door closed.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
“Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year.”
He kissed me then, slow and deep, tasting like champagne and the chocolate cake Nixon had made. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright with anticipation.
“I have a question,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Next year—when you’re here for grad school, and I’m doing my training program—I want us to find our own place. Not just roommates anymore. Something that’s actually ours.”
The wordourshit me somewhere behind the ribs. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He cupped my face in his hands. “I want it to be real. Not just sharing space because it’s convenient. I want to pick out furniture together, argue about what color to paint the walls, build something that’s about us. Not just two guys splitting rent.”
“I want that too.” My voice came out rough. “I want— God, I want everything.”
“Then let’s take it.” His thumb traced my cheekbone. “We made it through the hard part. The rest is just details.”
“Famous last words.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.” I pulled him closer, pressing my forehead to his. “I know you are. And the answer is yes. To all of it. To whatever comes next.”
He kissed me again, harder this time, and the want that had been simmering all week finally caught fire.
We barely made it through the sliding door, his hand warm and insistent on the small of my back as he guided me inside. The party noise swelled around us—laughter and clinking glasses and someone’s terrible karaoke—but Seth was already steering me toward the hallway, his fingers laced through mine.
“Where are we going?” I asked, even though I knew.
“Somewhere quieter.” His voice was low, rough at the edges.
We passed Hunter and John slow-dancing in the kitchen, Nixon refilling champagne flutes, a cluster of Breakers players arguing about something on the TV. No one seemed to notice us slip away.
The guest room was at the end of the hall, far enough from the party that the noise was just a distant hum. Seth locked the door behind us and turned, his eyes dark in the dim light from the window.
“Come here,” he said.
I went.
He kissed me against the door, hands sliding under my shirt to find warm skin. I arched into the touch, chasing more, always more with him. The desperation of the last few weeks had faded, replaced by something steadier—the bone-deep certainty that we had time. That this wasn’t the last chance, just the next one.
“What do you want?” Seth murmured against my throat.
“You.” I tugged at his shirt. “Naked. Now.”
He laughed, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Bossy tonight.”
“It’s a new year. I’m trying new things.”
