The Valentine Between Us

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.

“Remind me again why you’re studying biology instead of something normal?” Sage asked.

“Because I enjoy torturing myself with lab reports.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Engineering’s no picnic either.”

Sage shrugged, mouth curving into a smile. “At least my disasters only blow fuses.”

The food arrived twenty minutes later, steaming hot and fragrant.

Bryce inhaled the delicious aroma and smiled.

It was just what he needed after the day he’d had.

They spread it across the coffee table with a stack of napkins and cracked open a couple more beers.

They spent the rest of the night listening to music and talking about whatever came to mind.

By the time the clock struck midnight, the cartons were empty, and the bottles had multiplied. Bryce’s head was pleasantly fuzzy, and he laughed at anything, even if it wasn’t that funny.

“You ever think maybe we just haven’t found the right women?” he asked, wiping beer from his chin.

“Probably.” Sage leaned back in his chair, eyes half-closed. “Or they haven’t found us tolerable.”

Bryce snorted. “We’re very tolerable.”

Sage tilted his head, smiling faintly at Bryce. “Sure.”

Bryce studied him for a second. The smile softened the sharp lines of Sage’s face, made his gray eyes look almost silver. “Maybe we’re looking in the wrong direction,” Bryce murmured.

Sage raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“I don’t know.” Bryce leaned forward, putting his elbows on his thigh and grinned at Sage. “We keep dating women who dump us. Maybe we should switch it up. Try men.”

Sage burst out laughing and shook his head. “You’re drunk.”

“Yep.” Bryce pointed his beer at him. “So are you.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m kissing you, Jones.”

Bryce grinned wider. “Why not? You’re not bad looking.”

“Wow, thanks for the compliment.” Sage rolled his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Say I’m wrong.”

“I’m not feeding your ego.”

Bryce smirked. “Come on. Science experiment. Test the theory.”

Sage shook his head. “Pretty sure that’s not how science works.”

“Sure it is. Hypothesis, experiment, conclusion.” He leaned closer. “I hypothesize you’re a good kisser.”

Sage laughed, shaking his head again. “You’re an idiot.”

“Drunk idiot,” Bryce corrected. “I am most definitely a drunk idiot.”

“Same thing.”

Bryce closed the distance, his grin crooked. “Prove it.”

Bryce’s eyes dropped to Sage’s lips, and before Sage could respond, Bryce pressed his lips to Sage’s.

The kiss was quick, clumsy, and full of beer. For a heartbeat, nothing existed but the warmth of Sage’s mouth and the faint taste of hops. Then Sage made a startled sound against him—half laugh, half breath—and Bryce pulled back, blinking like the world had tilted slightly.

“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.