Chapter One
The strap of his bag dug into his shoulder as Bryce Jones crossed the street toward his apartment building. His back ached from another long day in classes and then doing lab work, and he couldn’t decide if it was the endless notetaking or the breakup that had drained him more. Probably both.
The February wind cut through his jacket, sharp enough to make his eyes water, and he pulled it tight, trying to stay warm. Reaching his apartment block, Bryce pushed the door open and stepped into the narrow lobby, the smell of old carpet and cleaning fluid familiar after three years of calling the place home. The warmth made him shiver, and he let go of his jacket as he walked over to the elevator. The elevator was, as usual, out of order, so he climbed the stairs, his mind a jumble of half-formed thoughts. Layla’s last words ending their relationship, the awkward goodbye hug, and the weird emptiness that followed.
Slightly out of breath, Bryce reached the third-floor landing and pushed through the heavy door. Walking along the corridor, he found his apartment and opened the door, calling out, “Sage!”
No answer. Well, that figures.
Shutting the apartment door behind him, Bryce walked over to the couch and dropped his bag beside it. The space was the same mix of tidy and messy it always was. Where Sage was generally neat, Bryce wasn’t. A couple of textbooks lay open on the coffee table next to an abandoned coffee mug. The chair had a shirt thrown over the back.
They still had the dark brown carpet that had come with the apartment, but they’d painted the walls a brighter cream shade, so the place didn’t look too dark.
They’d done what they could to make the place better in their eyes. The couch had been given to them by Sage’s parents, light brown leather that had survived all the parties they’d had since moving in. A bookcase on one wall crammed with textbooks and papers and shit that didn’t have a home. The radiator clanked as the heating came on, and Bryce watched it, waiting to make sure everything was okay. He was certain it would blow up one day and spray them all with hot water.
Bryce toed off his shoes and rubbed his hands over his face. “You alive in there, genius?” he called toward the bedrooms. As he waited for a reply, he took his jacket off and hung it up.
A muffled voice came from one of the bedrooms. “Barely.”
Sage Everest appeared a moment later, barefoot, with a pencil stuck behind one ear and graphite smudged across his fingers. He looked exactly how Bryce had left him that morning with brown hair in chaotic tufts, a gray T-shirt hanging over his slim shoulders, and eyes that couldn’t decide what color they were. Sometimes, they were gunmetal gray, and other times, they caught the light and turned silver. Right now, they were somewhere between tired and amused as he smiled at Bryce.
“You been sketching circuits again?” Bryce asked, grinning at him.
Sage shrugged. “Better than thinking.”
“Yeah, well, thinking’s overrated.” Bryce flopped onto the couch and grabbed the remote, flicking the TV on just for the noise. “Layla dumped me.”
Sage paused halfway to the fridge and looked over his shoulder at Bryce. “Again?”
“This time it’s permanent.”
“Uh-huh.” Sage opened the fridge door and pulled out two beers. He twisted one open and tossed the other across the room to Bryce, who caught it against his chest. “What was it this time?”
Bryce twisted the cap off and took a long drink before answering. “She says I’m not ‘emotionally available.’” He used air quotes. “Which I think is code for ‘you like your textbooks more than me.’”
Sage leaned a hip against the counter and swallowed some beer. “You do.”
Bryce shot him a glare. “You’re supposed to tell me I’m amazing, and she doesn’t deserve me.”
“Oh, right.” Sage raised his bottle. “You’re amazing. She doesn’t deserve you. There, feel better?”
Bryce slumped back on the sofa, a smirk on his face. “Not really, no.”
Sage came over and dropped onto the couch next to Bryce. They sat there for a bit, drinking in a comfortable silence. Outside, the wind rattled the window, and Bryce couldn’t help but look. The TV, which neither of them paid attention to, murmured low in the background.
“You doing anything for Valentine’s?” Bryce asked finally.
Sage snorted. “Like what? Taking my laptop out for dinner?”
Bryce chuckled. “I meant maybe we'd do something. Get takeout, get drunk, forget women exist for a night.”
Sage considered that, bottle halfway to his mouth. “I could be convinced.”
“Good. What do you want to eat tonight?” Bryce picked up his phone. “Chinese or Thai?”
“Thai.”
They ordered from the place down the street so often that they always gave them an extra spring roll. While they waited, Bryce stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes.
