“Good,” Bryce said, simple as that, and the knot that had been in Sage’s chest loosened slightly.
They didn’t move for another minute, then the bed creaked when Bryce shifted onto his back. Sage stared up at the ceiling and waited for Bryce to settle.
“What day is it?” Bryce asked.
Sage reached for his phone on the nightstand, thumbed the screen, and winced at the brightness. “Sunday,” he said. “Fourteenth.”
Bryce exhaled. “Valentine’s.”
“Yeah.”
Bryce lifted an arm and covered his eyes. “We should do something if we’re…doing this.”
Sage turned his head and stared at Bryce. “Doing what?”
“This,” Bryce said, moving his hand to point between them and then shoving it back over his eyes like he regretted showing that much. “Whatever this is.”
Sage’s mouth tugged. “Breakfast first.”
“Coffee or I die,” Bryce grunted
They got up, and as Bryce found his sneakers and toed them on, Sage pushed the blanket back and winced when cold air hit the strip of skin where his shirt had ridden up. He stood, joints stiff from sleeping in jeans, and scrubbed a hand over his face. He wanted a shower, but he needed coffee more.
In the kitchen, he filled the kettle and put two mugs on the counter. The window over the sink showed a winter sky, gray and filled with dark clouds. Sage flicked his gaze to the calendar hanging on the wall. February. Red circle around the 14th because Lizzie had thought it was funny to do that last week when she’d dropped off notes.
Bryce leaned in the doorway, his hazel eyes watching, his black hair a mess, and his T-shirt wrinkled. He looked better than anyone had a right to after a party. He watched Sage as he moved around the kitchen.
“Takeout or a meal out?” Sage asked.
“Meal out feels too much right now,” Bryce said. “But I can do it.”
Sage stopped moving and watched Bryce. “You sure?”
“No,” Bryce admitted. “But I want to try.” He moved to the cupboard, grabbed the coffee, and put it down by Sage’s hand. “Unless you want to keep it quiet.”
Sage shook his head. “I don’t want to hide from this, but I just don’t want to rush into this either.”
“Slow,” Bryce murmured.
“Slow,” Sage agreed.
They made coffee in the comfortable quiet like they always had, with the change from the previous night settling around them. Bryce slid a mug toward Sage. Their fingers brushed, but neither of them pulled back like they would have done before. They sat on the couch with their mugs on the table, their knees not quite touching.
“Okay,” Bryce said. “Honest moment.”
Taking a deep breath, Sage nodded. “Okay.”
“I was drunk when I kissed you first,” Bryce said. “But last night wasn’t that.”
“I know,” Sage agreed.
“It felt…” Bryce searched for the word and then whispered, “Right.”
Sage’s chest did a slow shift as he blew out. “Yeah.”
“That freaks me out,” Bryce added.
“Me too,” Sage agreed again. “But I’m not running from this.”
