Chapter 4 Seth
SETH
I woke up with Tanner’s scent on my skin and guilt coiled so tight in my chest I could barely breathe.
We’d fallen asleep tangled together on the couch.
I’d woken sometime before dawn with my arm around his waist and my face pressed between his shoulder blades, feeling each slow rise and fall of his breathing like it was synced to my own heartbeat.
And instead of doing the smart thing—instead of extracting myself immediately and retreating to my own bed like a person with functioning self-preservation instincts—I’d let myself have five more minutes.
Five minutes of memorizing the way he fit against me. Five minutes of his warmth seeping into my bones. Five minutes of pretending this was something I was allowed to want.
Those five minutes had been a mistake.
The kind of mistake that rewrites your entire understanding of what you’re capable of wanting. The kind that leaves fingerprints on your ribs and makes you realize you’ve been lying to yourself about how deep this thing goes.
Now I was standing in the shower trying to convince my body that Tanner McBride was off-limits while my brain replayed the way he’d felt pressed against me. Small and warm and perfect, like he’d been made to fit exactly there.
I turned the water colder.
This was dangerous territory. The kind that led to complications I couldn’t afford.
Tanner was Hunter’s best friend. He was still raw from his father’s death.
He had visible trauma responses to the sport I played.
And we lived together, which meant if I fucked this up, I couldn’t escape.
We’d be stuck sharing space and pretending everything was fine while I died a little every time he walked past me.
But more than that—more than the personal disaster it would create—there was the simple fact that our worlds didn’t fit. Tanner put on noise-canceling headphones every time I left for a game. How the hell was I supposed to date someone who couldn’t even acknowledge that part of my life existed?
I finished my shower, got dressed, and opened my bedroom door to find Tanner already awake and making coffee in the kitchen.
He was wearing sleep shorts and a T-shirt that had holes in both sleeves. His hair stuck up on one side. He looked soft and rumpled and completely unaware that he was destroying me.
“Morning,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than intended.
He glanced up. Something flickered across his face before he hid it. “Morning. Coffee’s almost ready.”
I moved into the kitchen, keeping a careful distance between us. The apartment suddenly felt smaller than it had yesterday. Every inch of space between us felt charged with what had happened last night.
“About yesterday—” Tanner started, his voice careful. “I’m sorry. For breaking down like that. You shouldn’t have had to—”
“Don’t.” I reached for a mug from the cabinet, keeping my back to him. “I don’t ever want you feeling like you’re a burden or whatever. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.”
“I shouldn’t have put that on you.”
The guilt twisted harder in my chest, sharp enough to make me grip the counter.
He thought he’d done something wrong when the truth was, I’d been the one lying there memorizing the feel of him.
The one who had counted his breaths and pressed closer instead of pulling away.
The one who’d wanted so badly to kiss the back of his neck that I’d had to physically force myself out of his orbit this morning.
And now I was standing here lying to both of us—pretending last night was about comfort when really it had been at least partially about want. Pretending I could keep doing this. Pretending there was any version of this story where I got to have him without destroying everything else.
My skin crawled the more I dwelled on the ways I’d been the one to take advantage of Tanner. I should apologize, but damn if I could bring myself to say the words.
One fucked-up issue at a time.
“You didn’t put anything on me,” I said. “It’s fine.”
“Right.” His voice went flat. “Fine.”
The coffee maker beeped. Tanner poured two mugs in silence, added cream to his. When he handed me mine, our fingers brushed, and I felt the contact all the way down my spine.
I pulled my hand back too fast. Coffee sloshed over the rim, burning my knuckles.
“Shit.” I set the mug down hard on the counter.
Tanner grabbed a towel without a word and handed it to me. Our eyes met for half a second before we both looked away.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything from last night. The way we’d fit together on that couch. The way I’d counted his breaths like they mattered more than my own. The way I’d wanted—still wanted—things I had no right to want.
“Seth.” His voice was quiet. Careful. “About last night—”
“I’m sorry.” I wiped my hand with the towel, focusing on the simple task because looking at him right now would undo me completely. “I should have woken you up. Shouldn’t have— I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
The guilt twisted sharper in my chest. He’d been vulnerable, grieving, and I’d held on to him like I had any right to.
“What?” Tanner’s voice went tight with something I couldn’t read. “Seth, no—”
“You were hurting,” I continued, still not looking at him. “And I just… I’m sorry. I know now that it’s morning, you’re probably—”
“Stop.” His hand closed around my wrist, gentle but firm enough to make me meet his eyes. “You think I’m upset about last night?”
I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t do anything but stand there with his fingers wrapped around my wrist, feeling my pulse hammer against his touch.
“I’m not.” His voice dropped lower, careful. “It felt…nice. To be held like that.”
Something in my chest cracked open at the admission. The vulnerability in his voice, the way he couldn’t quite meet my eyes when he said it.
“You don’t have to—” I started.
“I’m not just saying it.” His grip tightened slightly. “I mean it. I haven’t—” He stopped, jaw working. “It’s been a long time since anyone just…held me. Without wanting something else. Without it being complicated.”
The irony of that statement would have been funny if it didn’t hurt so much. Because it was complicated. So fucking complicated I could barely breathe through it.
But looking at his face, at the honesty written there, the need he was trying so hard to hide, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth. Couldn’t admit that every second I’d held him had been about wanting as much as comfort.
“Okay,” I said quietly. “I just… I needed to make sure you weren’t upset with me.”
“You’re good.” He let go of my wrist, and I felt the loss of contact like a physical ache. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Seth. I promise.
“I have class at nine,” he continued, not quite meeting my eyes. It felt as if both of us had been stripped raw, and he had the good sense to change the subject. “Then lab work until probably six.”
“Coach wants us in the weight room at two. Game prep after that.”
“Oh.” He stared into his coffee mug. “Right. Big day Saturday.”
The way he said it—like the word tasted bad in his mouth—reminded me exactly why this couldn’t work. Saturday meant game day. Game day meant football. And football meant everything Tanner couldn’t handle.
We stood there in the kitchen, morning light slanting through the window, not saying any of the things we were both thinking. Finally, Tanner nodded once and retreated to his room with his coffee.
I stayed in the kitchen and made myself a promise: I wouldn’t do this. Wouldn’t let myself want someone I couldn’t have. Tanner deserved better than a closeted teammate who’d fuck up his life. And I deserved better than watching someone I cared about flinch every time I mentioned my schedule.
I just had to convince my body to cooperate.
Practice was brutal.
Coach ran us through conditioning drills that had nothing to do with football and everything to do with punishment for our sloppy work last week. We’d won, but it hadn’t been pretty. By the time we hit the weight room, I was already exhausted, ribs still protesting every movement.
“You good?” Marcus asked, spotting me on the bench press. “You’re moving like shit today.”
“Still sore from Saturday.”
“That hit was nasty. Surprised you popped back up.”
I focused on the bar, pushing through the burn. “Had to. Can’t let the defense think they got to me.”
“Even when they did?”
“Especially then.”
We finished the set and switched. Marcus settled on the bench while I moved into position to spot him.
“You coming to Miller’s party Friday?” he asked.
“Probably not.”
“Come on, Landry. You’ve turned down the last three. People are starting to think you don’t like us.”
“I like you fine. Just not interested in standing around watching everyone get drunk.”
Marcus pumped through his reps, then sat up and looked at me. “Dude, I’m gonna ask you something, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want.”
My hands went still on the bar. “What?”
“Your roommate. Hunter’s friend.” He kept his voice low, glancing around the weight room. “Something going on there?”
The question landed like a hit I hadn’t braced for. “We’re roommates. That’s it.”
“Okay.” He held up his hands. “Look, man, I don’t give a shit either way. You know that, right? But not everyone on this team is gonna be cool about it if there is something. And people are starting to notice…”
My throat went tight. “Notice what?”
“That you’re different lately. Distracted. Turning down parties to go home. It’s not hard to put together.” He wiped sweat from his face with his shirt. “I’m just saying— Be careful, Landry. You know how it is.”
Yeah. I knew exactly how it was.