Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
TODD
I swear the sun is shining brighter than usual.
None of it matters.
Because my lips are still tingling from his kisses. My chest is still warm from waking up wrapped in his arms. And because Logan Brooks is my secret lover—and right now, I feel like I could float straight into the damn sky.
A breeze stirs the air, brushing along my hoodie and tugging at the collar, and it smells like October.
Like leaves and rain and the beginnings of winter.
I breathe it in deep, letting it fill my lungs as I cut across the quad, my boots crunching on golden-red leaves that litter the sidewalk like confetti.
Everything is so damn pretty this morning.
The sky’s painted in a perfect smear of blue, streaked with pink like someone took a highlighter to the clouds.
A girl near the fountain is laughing on FaceTime with someone, and I grin like an idiot just because I can.
A black squirrel darts across the walkway like it’s late for midterms, and I don’t even flinch.
I just keep walking, heart light, smile stretched stupidly wide across my face.
God, I feel good.
Like I just scored a hat trick. Like I’m high-fiving the universe. Like nothing can touch me.
I’m not thinking about the fact that this whole thing is still a secret and it needs to stay that way. I’m not thinking about what’ll happen if people find out. I’m not even thinking about how risky it all is.
I’m just thinking about Logan’s laugh. The way he called me baby and pressed a kiss to the back of my neck before we left his apartment, and whispered, “Text me when you get to class.”
Yeah. I’m a goner.
And I’m not even mad about it.
I don’t even realize I’m humming until I catch myself doing it out loud.
Jesus. I’m humming.
I’m turning into one of those guys. The ones who wake up all starry-eyed and happy and start thinking about their hookup’s laugh in the middle of Chem lab.
Except it wasn’t a hookup.
Not to me. And I’m pretty sure not to him either.
I tuck my hands in my hoodie pockets and slow my pace, chewing the inside of my cheek.
Because yeah, we said no strings last week. And yeah, I’ve been the one dodging any kind of feelings since…well, ever.
But last night didn’t feel like nothing. And this morning felt like everything.
God, he’s perfect. That shit means something. Doesn’t it?
Or am I just imagining it because I want to?
My brain short-circuits on that thought for half a second—just long enough for me to miss the flash of movement heading straight toward me.
“Whoa,” Daniel says, sidestepping me like I’m the world’s most distracted linebacker. “Dude, you okay?”
I blink at him. “Yeah. Great. Fine.”
He raises an eyebrow, looking way too suspicious for this early in the morning. “You sure? You’ve got that…look.”
“What look?”
“The ‘I just got laid and can’t stop smiling like a dumbass’ look.”
I roll my eyes and try to walk past him, but Daniel moves with me, spinning so we’re walking side by side.
“I mean, I figured you bailed after the club last night to get some finally, but damn, Shaw. That’s a whole new glow.”
“I don’t glow,” I mutter.
Daniel snorts—and then his gaze drops. Right to my neck.
Shit.
“Is that a hickey?” he crows, grabbing my arm and turning me slightly. “Oh my god, it is. What the hell, man? Who is she?”
I slap his hand away. “None of your business.”
He grins like he just solved a murder. “So it’s not a she.”
I freeze.
He doesn’t.
Daniel just keeps walking like he didn’t just throw a grenade into my carefully guarded little secret life.
And now my heart is jackhammering in my chest again, but not for a good reason this time. Because I don’t want to lie. Not anymore. But I also don’t want to blow this up before Logan and I even figure out what the hell we are.
“Seriously, though,” Daniel says, slinging his arm across my shoulders, “you gonna tell me who’s got you all moon-eyed, or am I gonna have to start guessing?”
I shake my head, trying to will the heat out of my face. “Drop it, Dan.”
He holds up both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off.”
He gives me a sideways glance, smirking.
“For now.”
By the time we’re halfway to the building, I think Daniel might actually let it drop. Which is wishful thinking, obviously. Because I spot them coming around the corner before he even says it.
“Here we go,” he mutters under his breath like a man preparing for war.
Luke spots us immediately, his black-painted nails glinting as he waves, a red flannel wrapped around his waist and a pair of black skinny jeans clinging to his legs like a second skin. His eyeliner today is navy blue with silver shimmer—and somehow matches the streak of color in his hair.
Ty and Will follow behind him, both in football hoodies, both looking like walking protein shakes.
“Well, well, well,” Luke sing-songs as he closes the distance. “If it isn’t my two of my favorite hockey heathens.”
“Morning, Luke,” Daniel grins. “You’re looking very…sparkly.”
“It’s called having style, Daniel. You wouldn’t know anything about it.” Luke flashes him a grin before his eyes snap straight to me. “But you.”
“Me?” I ask warily.
He circles me like a hawk, one painted nail tapping against his chin.
“Something’s different,” he says. “You’re walking like you just got railed by God himself.”
Ty chokes on a laugh.
Will snorts. “Luke, Jesus.”
“What?” Luke shrugs. “It’s true. Look at him. Hair all damp and curling at his neck. Hoodie wrinkled like it was on someone's floor all night. That’s not a man who made it back to his dorm before sunrise.”
“I did,” I say quickly.
Luke ignores me and lifts a finger. “Turn your head.”
“Luke—”
“I said turn.”
I groan and tip my head slightly to the side, instantly regretting it.
“Bingo.” He gasps, clutching his chest. “Is that a hickey on our precious ice prince? Scandalous!”
Ty whistles low. “Damn, Shaw. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“I—okay, chill, it’s not—” I rub the back of my neck. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” Luke gasps. “Not a big deal? That looks like someone tried to brand you. Who is it? Do we know them? Are they hot? Did they leave teeth marks anywhere else?”
“Stop talking,” I mutter, walking faster.
Daniel’s wheezing beside me. “Dude, this is the best walk to class I’ve had all semester.”
Will just grins. “You know he’s not gonna let this go, right?”
“Not ever,” Luke confirms cheerfully. “I’m emotionally invested now.”
“Cool,” I mutter. “Love that for me.”
“Blink twice if it was someone on the team,” Luke stage-whispers. “Blink three times if it was someone hotter than the team.”
I shoot him a death glare. “I’m not into guys,” I lie.
He just laughs.
The worst part of it all is I’m still grinning.
My cheeks hurt, my stomach’s doing that annoying flippy thing, and my chest feels warm and full, like it’s brimming with a secret too good to tell.
Because I do have one.
And even if I can’t say it…It feels really damn good to have something worth protecting.
Daniel and I push through the science building doors with two minutes to spare, both of us still half-laughing from whatever joke Luke shouted after us across the quad as he left.
"Bet you five bucks you hum through the whole lab," Daniel says as we head down the hall toward Chem. "You’ve got that dazed, post-orgasm, Disney prince energy happening right now."
"I do not," I grumble, tugging the hood of my hoodie up over my head, even though I know the hickey is already a lost cause.
"You do," he says, bumping his shoulder into mine. "Seriously, dude, I’ve never seen you this…floaty. It’s unnerving."
"Sorry my good mood’s an existential crisis for you," I shoot back.
He just grins, clearly enjoying every second of this.
Inside the lab, we grab our usual spot near the middle bench, as the TA starts their monotone lecture on today’s experiment. Something about titrations and reaction rates. I’m not listening. Not really.
Because I promised I’d text Logan when I got to class.
I drop my bag beside me, tug out my notebook, and pull out my phone.
And then I realize…we never exchanged numbers.
Jesus.
I gave him everything else, but not my number? I unlock my phone and open Prism.
Me: So uh… do I get your number now or do I have to blow you in the locker room again?
I stare at it. Debate deleting it. Hit send anyway.
Logan’s reply comes back less than thirty seconds later.
SlowBurn69: Tempting offer. But I’m trying to behave. I’ve got a secret to keep.
I bite back a laugh and shift in my seat.
Me: I did say I’d text you when I got to class. It would have been easier if I had your phone number.
I bite back a laugh and shift in my seat, elbowing Daniel as he tries to lean over and peek at my screen.
“Don’t you have a titration to mess up?” I mutter.
Daniel smirks. “I knew you were texting them. Is that Prism?”
“Shut up.”
SlowBurn69: You already have access to all the good parts.
Why ruin it with something as boring as a contact name?
Me: Because it’s hard to think of sexting you under ‘SlowBurn69’ when I’m holding a burette.
SlowBurn69: Sounds like a you problem.
But now I’m picturing you in goggles, blushing, trying not to get hard in front of your lab partner.
Shit.
I absolutely am.
I adjust in my seat and clear my throat, trying to look like I’m focused on the flask in front of me and not the growing heat under my skin.
Me: You’re evil.
SlowBurn69: You like it. And you didn’t deny it.
Before I can reply with something flirty, my phone lights up again.
SlowBurn69: Now be a good boy and pay attention. I’ll see you at practice.
I stare at those words way too long.
Good boy.
They shouldn’t make my mouth go dry or my pulse stutter behind inside my throat. But it does.
Me: Say it again.
A beat. Two.
SlowBurn69: Good. Boy.
Fuck. I grip the edge of the counter so I don’t audibly groan in the middle of Chem Lab.
Daniel gives me a suspicious side-eye. “What did they say now?”
I shake my head, hopeless. “Nothing.”
But my smile’s already giving me away. Because if he keeps calling me that, I’m never surviving practice. Not even close.
After class, I’m still riding the high of Logan’s last message—Good. Boy.—and I barely notice Daniel walking next to me until he elbows my side.
“You gonna float all the way to the rink or…?”
I blink. “Huh?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just keeps walking with me down the steps outside the science building, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket like he’s debating something.
Finally, he says, “You know, I’m not a total idiot.”
I glance over, pulse kicking up. “Okay?”
“I mean…” He shrugs. “I joke around a lot. But I see things, Todd.”
My mouth goes dry. “What things?”
Daniel stops walking. I stop too.
He looks at me—really looks at me—and there’s nothing but quiet certainty in his face.
“You like guys.”
It’s not a question. It’s not an accusation either.
My stomach twists, even though I should’ve seen this coming. “I—”
“You don’t have to explain anything,” he says, voice steady. “Seriously. I get it. You’ve got your reasons. I’m just telling you that…your secret’s safe with me.”
I blink hard.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I saw the way you smiled at your phone in class,” he says simply. “And whatever’s happening there? It’s clearly not something you’ve experienced before. But I figured you should at least know you’re not alone.”
I swallow past the lump rising in my throat.
“I didn’t—”
“I know,” he cuts in, not unkindly. “You didn’t tell me. That’s fine. You don’t owe me that. But I’m still your teammate. And your friend. And if anyone gives you shit, they’ve got to deal with me.”
My throat tightens.
“Family is family,” he adds. “And I’ve got your back. Always.”
I nod, unable to say anything right away. It’s not flowery, it’s not emotional—but it hits me like a punch to the chest anyway.
“Thanks,” I manage, voice low.
He claps me on the shoulder. “But if it isn’t Brooks you’re messaging, it’s gonna break his heart. And if you make my new bestie cry, we will have a problem.”
That pulls a laugh out of me—short, surprised, a little stunned. “What?”
Daniel grins like he didn’t just casually drop a nuke into my chest and keep walking. “You think I haven’t noticed the tension? You two fight like it’s foreplay. The locker room’s practically vibrating with it.”
I blink at him. “Jesus.”
He shrugs. “Not saying I want to see it. But I’m not blind.”
We start walking again, and I can’t help the way my smile tugs wider, even as my pulse still stutters.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “It’s Logan.”
Daniel doesn’t say anything to that. Just nods once and bumps my shoulder as we head toward the rink.
And it feels as though a weight has lifted, and I can breathe.
I didn’t realize telling someone or admitting I’m gay to would feel so freeing.
And I didn’t actually tell him; I just confirmed what he was thinking.
It makes me think that maybe my reasons for staying in the closet might be my fear talking and not reality.