He swallowed hard, leaned against the counter, and stared at the wall until the feeling passed.
If it were just a chemical glitch,he thought,why does it keep replaying?
Chapter Four
Sage pulled the cushions off the couch and shook out the blanket like he could scatter last night’s weirdness with the crumbs. A bottle cap pinged across the floor and skittered under the TV stand. He crouched, fished it out, and added it to the small pile on the coffee table. The apartment smelled of leftover pad Thai and stale beer. He cracked the kitchen window and let the cold come in.
Cleaning helped. It always had. Visible progress, tasks he could tick off without thinking too hard. He stacked cartons, tied a trash bag, and wiped down the counter. Every time his mind drifted to the kiss, he shoved it back with the rhythm of work. Spray, wipe, rinse, repeat.
“You were drunk,” he told the faucet, which didn’t disagree. “He was drunk. It was nothing.”
Sage’s lips still felt…aware. Not sore. Not bruised. Just aware. Tingly. He pressed them together once, shook his head, and kept moving. He swapped out the kitchen towel, ran hot water over the sink, then filled a bowl with soapy suds for the last of theplates. The soap smelled clean, citrusy, and he liked that. He liked things in their place.
He remembered how Bryce did not stay anywhere. He sprawled and took up space. Laughed like the room was his. Smiled with half his mouth first, something that Sage hadn’t noticed until then. Said stupid things and made Sage laugh.
Sage shoved the thought aside and leaned a hip against the counter. Tonight was Saturday. They’d planned a small party. Friends, music, food, and beer. Nothing wild. Well, a little loud probably. That would be fine. Noise pushed feelings away where Sage could manage them.
His phone buzzed with texts in the group chat. Unlocking it, Sage saw the first one from Lizzie.8 still good? I’m bringing brownies.
Dan had responded.Got the playlist. You’re welcome.
Gage had responded.Beer run is handled.
Tara had text,Do not let Dan touch the aux cable again.
Sage replied.All good. See you at 8.
Putting the phone down, Sage grabbed the vacuum and did a slow pass over the rug. He could still picture the exact place he’d sat the night before, back against the couch, Bryce’s arm loose over his shoulder. It would be easy to read into that, and he refused to. He wasn’t seventeen. He didn’t need drama. He needed his head clear and his homework done and the kitchen stocked with food and drink for later.
When everything looked right, he took a quick shower, hot enough to steam up the mirror, and stood under the water until the ghost of beer in the air rinsed away. He tried not to think while he did it. Didn’t work. The kiss kept appearing like some stupid song you couldn’t stop remembering. Not fireworks. Not even electricity. Just a steady heat that had landed low and surprised him because there hadn’t been a jolt ofwrongbehind it.
Stepping out of the shower, Sage toweled off, dragged a comb through his hair, then pulled on a fresh T-shirt and jeans. Gray shirt, the one that felt soft from years of washes. He didn’t pick it for any particular reason. He just liked it, and it had nothing to do with Bryce saying that he looked good in it.
By late afternoon, Sage had the living room ready. Furniture nudged back to make space, the fold-up table out of the hall closet, bowls ready for chips, a stack of red cups lined up. The window was still cracked, letting in a thin ribbon of cold that kept the room from smelling like the previous night.
The front door clicked at six-thirty. Bryce shouldered in with two grocery bags, a case of beer balanced on his hip, and a thin film of cold on his cheeks. His black hair had been flattened by a beanie, then liberated, sticking up all over the place.
“Hey,” he said, dropping the bags onto the table. “I have chips, salsa, hummus that looked fancy, and something labeled ‘party mix’ that I already regret.”
Sage lifted an eyebrow. “You got vegetables?”
“I grabbed celery. Don’t judge me.”
Sage snorted. “I will absolutely judge you for the celery.”
Bryce smirked, then sobered a fraction as his gaze slid over the room. “Looks good.”
“Easy job.”
They worked without talking much at first. Bryce broke down the plastic on the cup pack. Sage set out napkins, slid bowls into place. The familiar quiet between them tried to settle back, even with the thin thread of tension humming under it.
Bryce nudged him with an elbow. “Playlist ready? Or are we risking Dan again?”
“Dan claims he curated a vibe.”
“Dan’s vibe is ‘2010 frat basement.’”
Sage’s mouth twitched. “We have a veto button. It’s called my phone.”
