“Hi,” said Quinn. His shoulders were rising and falling in a quick rhythm that gave away how breathless he was. “I won’t lie, getting that call from you—”
August’s knees buckled, and he flung his arms out, gripping the sides of the doorframe to keep himself standing. The wood was cool under his fingers, and he could feel the ache in his head pounding like a drum again, but this was a dream, right?
Or was this not a dream? How did it feel so real?
Quinn’s expression pinched, and he stepped aside, gesturing for August to enter. “Your nose is bleeding. Come sit down and put your head back while I find some tissues.”
August stumbled inside, finding the nearest chair next to the small dining table and falling into it. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, trying to comprehend what he was doing and where he was.
This had to be a dream. Quinn wouldn’t be in New York, not unless he followed Callahan to his away games, which—
Fuck, he might not be dreaming.
Reality hit the moment Quinn returned and shoved a tissue against his nose. The touch grounded him, and Augustfellinto his body with such blinding clarity that his fingers began to tingle.
“You’re a mess,” said Quinn, pinching August’s nose with the tissue until he got the hint and took over.
Their fingers brushed, and the faint tingling ignited into wildfire. Heat raced up August’s arm, spreading through his chest until his breath caught.
“Sorry,” Quinn muttered. “I forgot to tell you the cloth’s cold.”
August blinked, just now realizing that Quinn was dabbing at his face and throat with something.
“When I gave you my number, I thought you would text me random hockey crap,” said Quinn. “I wasn’t expecting a call mid-afternoon asking for help because you couldn’t remember if you were bi or not.”
Had hedone that?!
“Fuck, I am so sorry.” August took the cloth from Quinn so he could press it to his burning cheeks. “I was having a dream, so coming here may have involved a bit of sleepwalking.”
“Abitof sleepwalking?” Quinn came closer, and August opened his eyes to look up into angry, bright green orbs. “If you’re being serious, that’s impressive because you sounded pretty coherent to me.”
August couldn’t remember, but what else was new?
Quinn offered him more tissues, but the bleeding had stopped, leaving August snuffling and feeling congested.
“At least you didn’t get much on your shirt,” Quinn muttered. “People are going to think I’m abusing you because you’re always covered in blood when we’re together.”
Quinn wasn’t making it any easier for him to calm the heat crawling up his neck. August couldn’t tell if he was still dreaming or if this was actually happening, but he knew Quinn’s touch felt real. Solid. Grounding. It rooted him in his bones, in the here and now, like his body had chosen Quinn as his source of gravity.
But the moment Quinn stepped back, the world tilted, the air went cold, and that fleeting sense of being anchored slipped away.
Terrified, August grabbed onto the sleeve of Quinn’s shirt, stopping him from putting more distance between them. “Wait—stay.”
Gross. He sounded so needy.
Quinn looked from August to the bloody tissues he was holding in his hand. “Can I at least—”
Augusttook them from Quinn and tossed them onto the table, keeping his hand firmly on Quinn’s delicate wrist. He straightened in his chair and brought him closer, breathing deeply through his nose as he pressed Quinn’s hand to his brow.
Yeah, he was awake. And yeah, he was sitting on a chair in Quinn’s room.
“That dream shook you up pretty bad, huh?”
August let out a strained laugh. “I suppose you could say that.”
“And here I thought you were propositioning me. I’m sad.”
A sharp pinch to his ear made August jump, and he raised his head to glare at the man standing in front of him.
