“Well,” Bryce said, dazed. “That’s one way to spend Valentine’s.”
Sage stared at him, a mix of amusement and disbelief flickering across his face. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Probably.” Bryce fell back onto the couch, stretching his legs out. “Still better company than Layla.”
“That’s a low bar.”
“Yeah, but you clear it.”
Sage shook his head and grabbed another beer. “You’re going to hate yourself in the morning.”
“Doubt it.”
They drifted back into half-hearted conversation, voices lower now. Bryce’s eyelids grew heavy, the room soft around the edges. At some point, Sage took the empty bottle from his hand and muttered something about him passing out. Bryce managed a slurred “shut up” before sliding sideways onto the couch.
Sage’s footsteps padded away, then returned with a blanket. Bryce felt it drop over him, then heard the soft clink of bottles being gathered, followed by the sound of cartons being moved.
“You’re lucky you’re too drunk to move,” Sage muttered somewhere above him.
Bryce smiled without opening his eyes. “Love you too.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sleep, idiot.”
The last thing Bryce remembered was Sage’s low laugh and the faint warmth of the blanket as the room faded into darkness.
Chapter Two
Bryce’s snore started as a low buzz and built into something that sounded like a freight train. Sage stood over the couch and picked up the blanket that had fallen off Bryce during the night.
Shaking his head, Sage murmured, “Drunken idiot.” His voice came out more fond than annoyed as he smiled down at Bryce.
Bryce didn’t move. His head was turned to the side, with one arm dangling off the cushion, black hair a mess, long body taking up the whole couch with his feet hanging off the end.
“Hey, Jones.” He nudged Bryce’s calf with a knee. “You’re not sleeping here. Get to bed.”
A muffled noise emerged from Bryce. Something about noodles. Then Bryce’s mouth curved, and he mumbled, too soft to be funny, “Love you too.”
Sage froze. His breath caught. Heat walked up his neck. For a second he stared at Bryce’s mouth, the lazy smile still caught there and remembered the kiss. Quick and clumsy and warm, beer on his tongue, the soft bump of teeth. He hadn’t meant to laugh into it. It had just surprised him. Surprised him morewas that his chest had tightened afterward and not from disgust or even discomfort. Something else. Something he didn’t have a label for.
He rubbed a thumb on the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to make this weird, aren’t you?”
Bryce didn’t respond. All he did was snore again.
Placing the blanket over Bryce, Sage wandered into the kitchen and ran the tap until the water turned cold, then filled a glass. He drank straight from the glass, trying to rinse the taste of beer and Thai food from his mouth and failing. The apartment sounded loud at that moment. The fridge humming, the pipes cranking, low street noise through the window. The lamp by the couch threw a narrow pool of light that made the rest of the place look dim and safe, but it was still too bright for Sage.
His lips tingled. Stupid. Sage touched them with two fingers and rubbed his lips like he was trying to rub the memory away. He could still see the kiss in his mind. The way Bryce leaned in with that lopsided grin, half challenge, half dare, the push of his mouth on his, warm and not hard, the surprised breath Sage let out that Bryce turned into a laugh when they bumped noses. Not a big moment. No fireworks or anything. Just…nice. Which made zero sense to Sage.
“You’re straight,” he muttered to himself. “He’s straight. This is just beer and a bad week.”
Still, the feeling sat there anyway, stubborn and refusing to move.
Placing the glass in the sink, Sage walked back into the living room. Bryce had shifted onto his back with an arm over his eyes. The blanket had crawled down to his waist. His T-shirt had ridden up a few inches, showing a line of stomach and the dip of muscle that ran to his hip.
“Come on,” Sage said, bracing a hand behind Bryce’s shoulders. “Get up and get into your own bed.”
Bryce made some grunting sound, then fell silent again and didn’t move. Sage shoved him, and he didn’t move. He was now a deadweight, and Sage was not a big guy. Lean, sure. Strong enough to lug toolboxes and lab kits across campus. But Bryce had two inches on his five feet ten and a lot of lazy bone density when he slept.
“You’re killing me.” Sage got an arm around his ribs and heaved. They managed a half-sit. Bryce’s head lolled against Sage’s shoulder. Warm breath brushed Sage’s neck.
