We ate on the couch, plates balanced on our knees because the table was still covered in textbooks. Seth told me about the film review—Coach had spent thirty minutes breaking down one play where the defensive line had collapsed, and apparently, everyone was going to be running extra drills tomorrow as punishment.
I listened and ate and tried not to stare at the way his hair was still damp at the edges from his post-practice shower, curling slightly against his neck in a way that made my fingers itch to touch. Something had shifted between us today—some wall I’d built had cracked, and now I couldn’t stop noticing things I’d trained myself to ignore. The way his laugh rumbled low in his chest. The way he gestured with his fork when he got animated. The way he kept glancing at me like he was checking to make sure I was still here, still okay.
Oddly enough, Seth talking about football didn’t hurt the way it usually did. Maybe because when he talked about the game, it wasn’t about glory or legacy—it was about his teammates, about the work, about something that felt survivable. And when I managed to separate him from my emotions about the sport, I knew hewastrying to stay safe.
“How are you feeling?” he asked between bites. “Better?”
“Yeah. Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to freak out on you.”
“Stop apologizing.” He nudged my knee with his. “I mean it, Tanner. You don’t have to apologize for having feelings.”
“Most people find my feelings inconvenient.”
“Most people are idiots.” He set his empty plate aside and turned to face me more fully. “You know you can talk to me, right? When stuff gets bad. You don’t have to handle it alone.”
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to think I could lean on someone without dragging them down with me. But the weight of everything I carried felt too heavy to share.
“I know,” I said instead.
Seth’s eyes searched my face, and I had the uncomfortable feeling he could see straight through the lie. But he didn’t push. Just reached out and squeezed my shoulder once, then stood to clear our plates.
I watched him move around the kitchen, putting away leftovers, loading the dishwasher. The domestic familiarity of it settled something in my chest that had been restless all day.
This was good. This was safe. Seth wasn’t asking me to be anything other than what I was.
He came back to the couch with two beers, handed me one, and settled into his usual corner. “Want to watch something?”
“Sure.”
We ended up with some action movie neither of us cared about. I wasn’t watching anyway. I was too aware of Seth beside me, the way he’d stretched one arm along the back of the couch, the way his knee brushed mine every time he shifted.
Halfway through the movie, I felt exhaustion crash over me. The emotional hangover from earlier, probably, combined with the fact that I’d barely slept last night. My eyes kept drifting shut, my head getting heavier.
“Come here,” Seth said.
I blinked at him. “What?”
“You’re falling asleep sitting up. Lie down.”
I should say no. Should maintain some kind of boundary. Instead, I found myself stretching out along the couch, my head landing on Seth’s thigh.
His hand came to my hair immediately, fingers carding through it in slow, steady strokes.
I should move. This was too much, too intimate, too everything we weren’t supposed to be.
Instead, I closed my eyes and let myself drift.
I wokeup to darkness and warmth.
The TV was off. The apartment was quiet except for the sound of breathing that wasn’t mine. There was weight across my waist, heat along my back, and when I tried to move, the weight tightened.
My brain caught up slowly. We’d fallen asleep on the couch. Somehow I’d ended up on my side, and Seth had ended up wrapped around me from behind, one arm slung over my waist, his face pressed into the space between my shoulder blades.
I should move. Should extract myself carefully and go to my own bed. Instead, I stayed perfectly still and tried to convince my body not to react to the way Seth’s chest rose and fell against my back, to the way his breath ghosted across my neck.
His arm tightened in his sleep, pulling me closer, and I felt every inch of him pressed against me. Including the hardness against my lower back, which meant he was having some kind of dream.
My own body responded immediately, pulse spiking, skin going hot. This was bad. This was exactly the situation I’d been trying to avoid.
