When the door finally opened, the smell of takeout preceded him—the rich aroma of lemongrass and coconut, the warm bite of chili and galangal. Seth appeared with bags from the Thai place, his hair still damp from a post-practice shower.
“Figured you wouldn’t have eaten,” he said, setting the food on the counter. He crossed to kiss me, brief and warm. “You mentioned being in the lab, so I grabbed your usual so you could reheat it.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. I wanted to.” He set the bags down and crossed to where I stood, his hands finding my hips as he leaned in to kiss me. It was easy, unhurried—the kind of greeting that had become routine over the past few months, his lips warm and familiar against mine. When he pulled back, his thumb traced my jaw. “Missed you today.”
Before I could respond, he was steering me toward the couch, pressing a beer into my hand. “Sit. Relax. You look like you’ve been staring at screens for eight hours.”
“Because I have.”
“Then your eyes need a break.” He settled beside me, close enough that our thighs touched. “How’s the capstone coming?”
“Good. Final presentation is next week.”
“You’re going to crush it.”
I took a long drink of my beer and didn’t answer.
Seth’s hand found my knee, squeezed once. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet since this morning.”
This was the moment. The opening. I could ask him about the article, about the scouts, about whether his plans had changed. I could tell him that I’d spent the afternoon spiraling into worst-case scenarios instead of working. I could be honest.
“Just stressed about everything,” I said instead. “It’ll pass.”
He studied my face for a beat too long. I watched him decide whether to push, and saw the moment he chose to let it go.
“Well, food’s ready. And I have news.”
“Yeah?”
“Coach pulled me aside after practice.” His whole face changed—brighter, more animated. “Said I’ve been playing some of the best ball of my career. That people are noticing.”
The stone in my chest grew heavier. “That’s great.”
“He asked if I’d reconsidered my plans. About next year.”
My hand tightened on the beer bottle. “What did you tell him?”
“Same thing I’ve been telling him all season. That I’m done after the bowl game, assuming we make one.” Seth shrugged, reaching for his own drink. “He thinks I’m making a mistake. Says I could at least try out, see what happens.”
“But you’re not going to.”
“No.” He met my eyes, something careful in his expression. “I told you, Tanner. Grad school. Athletic training. That’s the plan.”
“Right.” I made myself nod. “The plan.”
I sat there with my beer going warm in my hand, Seth’s words still hanging in the air between us.That’s the plan.I tried to quiet the voice in my head that kept whispering:Plans change. People change. You thought Dad would be around forever too.
We ate at the coffee table because my notes were in neat stacks on the dining table so I could work more tonight. Seth talked about practice, about the upcoming game, about some freshman who kept messing up his routes. I listened and nodded in the right places and didn’t taste anything I put in my mouth.
The food was good. I could tell it was good because Seth always picked the best dishes from this place—the green curry with just enough heat, the perfectly crispy spring rolls, the pad Thai that managed to be both rich and fresh. The kind of order that saidI know what you likeandI wanted to do something nice for you.And here I was, pushing it around my plate like a child.
“The freshman’s got potential,” Seth was saying. “Just needs to trust his routes instead of second-guessing every cut. Reminds me of how I was sophomore year.”
“Before you figured it out.”
“Before I stopped overthinking.” He grinned. “Some of us learn that lesson eventually.”
