“I’ll be inside,” he said. “Text me if you want backup.”
Tommy gave him a quick smile and slipped toward the back door before anyone else could stop him.
Cold night air hit his face immediately.
The patio lights glowed softer than the house behind him, string bulbs swaying slightly in the February breeze. From outside, the party noise dulled into muffled laughter and music humming through the glass.
Tommy walked to the railing and braced his hands against the wood.
He exhaled slowly.
His pulse was still a little too fast.
Not from the crowd.
From the moment across the room.
From the way Chase had looked at him.
Tommy closed his eyes briefly.
He thought about the hotel.
About the moment their eyes had met.
About the way his body had reacted before his brain could decide how to feel about it.
The sliding door opened behind him.
Tommy didn’t turn.
He already knew.
“You always used to come out here when the house got loud.”
Chase’s voice was quieter outside.
Less polished.
Tommy huffed a breath.
“I didn’t hide,” he said. “I strategically retreated.”
Chase stepped beside him, forearms resting on the railing like he’d done it a hundred times before.
“Still hate parties?” Chase asked.
Tommy shrugged.
“I don’t hate them. I just… don’t breathe well in them.”
Chase nodded faintly.
“Yeah,” he said. “I get that.”
Tommy glanced sideways at him.
“You?” he asked. “You always thrived at these.”
