35. Colton
THIRTY-FIVE
COLTON
The rest of the week flies by in a blur of football practice, teasing grins, stolen touches, and nights tangled in Micah’s sheets. Everything is Micah . He’s in my head, under my skin, filling every space I didn’t realize was empty.
We haven’t told the team we’re together, not officially. But I’m pretty sure they know. It’s in the way we look at each other. The way we don’t bother scrambling apart when one of us tackles the other during drills. Like we want the contact. Like we need it.
I know Caleb’s noticed I haven’t been around. He even told me to give him a heads-up if I planned to be at the dorm. He’s enjoying the extra privacy just as much as I’m enjoying waking up in Micah’s bed.
And that’s where I am now—Sunday morning, sunlight sliding across his ceiling, warm and familiar. He’s draped over me, snoring softly, one leg tossed over mine, claiming territory even in sleep.
I run my fingers slowly through his hair and press a kiss to his forehead .
I love the quiet moments almost as much as I love his filthy mouth.
“Hey,” I whisper into his hair, my voice barely a breath. “Sun’s up.”
Micah makes a low sound and shifts, his face nuzzling deeper into my chest, trying to burrow inside me. His leg tightens around my waist, keeping me anchored to the bed—not that I was going anywhere.
I smile against his hair and let my fingers trail gently down his spine, tracing the dip between his shoulder blades.
“Baby,” I murmur, softer now. “Time to wake up.”
He groans and slurs something that might be five more minutes or fuck off, I’m not sure which. Probably both.
“You gotta get up if we’re gonna make it to dinner,” I tease, kissing the corner of his jaw. “Unless you want my mom to show up here and drag you out of bed herself.”
He huffs a sleepy laugh, but doesn’t move.
So I press another kiss to his cheek. Then his temple. Then the spot just beneath his ear that always makes him shiver. “C’mon, beautiful,” I whisper. “I wanna see those eyes.”
Finally, he stirs—really stirs—blinking up at me as though he’s still trying to remember where he is. His hair is messy, his mouth soft, and for a second, he just looks at me like I’m the only thing that exists.
And then he exhales, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “You’re obnoxious in the morning,” he rasps.
I grin. “You love it.”
His eyes flick to mine, and whatever he sees there—whatever I’m too much of a coward to say out loud yet—makes his smile widen, slow and sure.
“Yeah,” he whispers, voice thick with sleep. “I really do. ”
He stretches like a cat, all long limbs and sleepy grumbling, before rolling half on top of me, his arm slung across my chest. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbles, lips brushing my collarbone.
“I’m more than cute,” I murmur, pretending offense. “I’m hot. And charming. And I wake you up with kisses instead of blasting music like some kind of monster.”
Micah’s smile curves against my skin. “Mm. Arguable.”
“Ar—” I make a dramatic sound of betrayal. “That’s how you’re gonna play this?”
He lifts his head, eyes still heavy with sleep but sparkling now. “I’m not above biting you, Taylor.”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “Is that a promise or a threat?”
He groans and drops his face back to my chest, laughing. “Why do I like you?”
I let my fingers thread through his hair again, grinning. “Because I’m irresistible. Also, because I bring you coffee, I put up with your attitude, and I look amazing shirtless.”
Micah hums. “You forgot the part where you make me come so hard I forget my name.”
I pretend to think. “Right. That too.”
He snorts, finally pushing himself up, hair sticking out at wild angles and cheeks still flushed. “Okay, okay. I’m up.” He leans over to press a lazy kiss to my jaw. “But you better make it worth it. Because dinner time is hours away.”
“Oh, I will,” I say, watching him pad toward the bathroom in just his boxers. “Starting with shower privileges. You’ve earned access to the good shampoo.”
He glances back over his shoulder with a smirk. “I already use it when you’re asleep.”
I gasp. “You little?—”
The door shuts before I can finish, and I swear I hear him laughing from the other side. I flop back on the pillow, grinning up at the ceiling like an idiot.
Yeah. I’m in deep.
And I don’t want out.
I am loving every second of this.
The shower cuts off, and a few minutes later, the door swings open in a puff of steam.
Micah steps out, hair damp and curling at the ends, water still beading down his neck. My black hoodie hangs loose on him, the hem brushing the tops of his thighs, and he’s rubbing a towel over his hair as he pads barefoot across the room.
My brain short-circuits for a second, caught between the cling of his curls to his forehead and the fact that my hoodie looks criminally good on him.
“What?” he asks, catching me staring.
“Nothing,” I say, though my grin probably gives me away. “Just wondering how early we can get breakfast before I do something irresponsible to make us miss it.”
That earns me the faintest smirk as he tosses the towel onto his desk chair. “Breakfast, huh?” He crosses the room, all casual swagger, and plants a knee on the bed beside me. “You mean in public?”
“Yeah.” I prop myself up on my elbows. “Why not?”
Micah’s eyes narrow—not suspicious, exactly, but measuring. “Colt, that’s a big step. You sure you’re ready for that? For people seeing us together and knowing what it means?”
I hold his gaze, letting him see I’m not wavering. “Micah, I want the whole world to know. I’m done pretending, we don’t need to hide in your dorm room every day, all day.”
He leans in, teeth catching lightly on my bottom lip before giving me a slow, deliberate kiss. “Mm. I like hiding in my dorm room with you,” he murmurs against my mouth, the words low enough to make my pulse jump. “Could think of a few more ways to make it worth our time.”
I huff a laugh, because of course he’d make it suggestive. “Later,” I promise.
Micah smirks, pulling back just enough to meet my eyes. “Alright, Taylor. Let’s go shock the world.”
Micah rummages through his dresser, still smirking as he pulls on jeans and a pair of socks and shoes. I finish getting dressed before I grab my sweatshirt, tug it over my head, and meet him at the door.
When we step into the hallway, I don’t even think about it—I just reach for his hand. His fingers curl around mine without hesitation, warm and solid, and something in my chest eases like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.
We make it halfway across the quad before I catch movement in my periphery—two guys from the team, Ty and Will, heading toward the dining hall. They both clock our joined hands instantly. Ty’s brows shoot up. Will smirks.
Micah’s grip tightens slightly before loosening, ready for me to drop his hand, but I don’t. I squeeze back, steady, and give the guys a nod.
Ty grins wide. “About damn time,” he calls. Will just gives a lazy salute, no judgment, no surprise—just…pure acceptance.
We keep walking, but before we can hit the dining hall doors, a familiar voice cuts in.
“Colton. ”
Jasmine. She’s standing near the steps, coffee in hand, eyes sharp as they flick to where our hands are still laced. Something flashes across her face—shock, maybe a little hurt—but she schools it fast.
“Didn’t realize you two…” she trails off, gesturing vaguely between us.
Jasmine’s voice hangs in the air, that vague gesture making Micah shift just enough so our arms brush.
“Together,” I say simply. No edge, no apology. Just the truth.
Her lips press together like she’s weighing whether to push it. Then a voice calls from behind us—low, teasing.
“Hey, slowpoke, you ready? I have the best day ever planned for us today.”
A tall guy in a hockey team hoodie jogs up the steps, grinning as he slides an arm easily around her waist. She tips her head back to look at him, her whole face softening in a way I haven’t seen in a long time.
“Colton, Micah—this is Greg,” she says, smiling as she leans into him. “My boyfriend. He’s on the hockey team.”
Micah’s eyebrows go up, just a fraction, but he doesn’t say anything. I catch the flicker of amusement in his eyes before he schools his face into something neutral.
Greg gives us a friendly nod. “Good to meet you.” Then to Jasmine, “Ready?”
She glances between us one more time, but there’s no bite to it now—just something that might even be relief. “Yeah,” she says, and lets him steer her toward the quad.
Micah waits until they’re out of earshot before he murmurs, “Well…that was anticlimactic.”
I squeeze his hand and push open the dining hall door. “Good. I’ve had enough drama for one season. ”
We step inside, and the hum of the dining hall swallows us up—clinking silverware, low conversation, the smell of bacon and coffee. Normally, I’d be scanning for an empty table or keeping my head down to avoid being cornered, but today?
Today I walk in with Micah’s hand still in mine.
A few heads turn—some curious, some clearly trying to connect dots—but no one says anything. And I don’t care if they do. The weight that used to sit in my chest in places like this is gone, replaced by something lighter.
Micah doesn’t make a show of it, but he doesn’t let go, either.
He grabs two mugs, hands me one without even asking how I take my coffee, because he knows.
We move through the line and it feels as if we’ve done it a hundred times, leaning into each other’s space, sharing quiet jokes under our breath.
When we finally slide into a booth by the window, the late-morning sun catches on his hair, still damp from his shower. He steals the corner of my toast without asking, and I just grin, shaking my head.
“This is nice,” I say, and it’s not just about breakfast.
Micah’s eyes lift to mine, warm and sure. “Yeah,” he says softly. “It is.”
He steals another bite of my toast, this time dragging it through my jam like he owns the plate.
“Bold move,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “You know there’s a whole basket of bread right there.”
He smirks, licking a bit of jam from his thumb. “Yours tastes better.”
I snort. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re grinning,” he points out, as if he’s scored some kind of victory .
I lean back, shaking my head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Cute?” he scoffs. “You wake up next to this every morning, and all I get is ‘cute’?”
I’m about to fire back when a familiar voice cuts in.
“Jesus, finally.”
Luke drops into the seat next to me acting as if he’s been waiting for this moment all season. He nods at our still-linked hands on the table. “You two trying to set a record for slowest reveal in history?”
Micah grins. “We like to build suspense.”
Luke grabs a piece of bacon off my plate without hesitation. “Yeah, well, suspense is over. About damn time, Taylor.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the smile pulling at my mouth. “You’re just mad you didn’t get to start a betting pool.”
Luke smirks. “Oh, there was a pool. You owe me twenty bucks, by the way.”
Micah laughs, low and warm, and I swear I’d let the whole world place bets on us if it meant getting to hear that sound every day.
Luke points his slice of bacon at me. “You’ll be coming to play Mario Kart tonight. Ty, Will, Micah, me, and you. No excuses.”
I blink at him. “We’ve got dinner at my mom’s tonight.”
Luke waves a hand. “Fine, after that. I’ll even save you a spot. Team bonding, Taylor. Don’t make me pull rank as unofficial social captain.”
Micah leans his elbow on the table, smirking at Luke as if he’s already won something. “We’ll be there. And we’re gonna wipe the floor with you. ”
Ty, from two tables over, calls, “Bold talk for someone who got smoked last time.”
Micah’s grin sharpens. “That was strategy. I was lulling you into a false sense of security.”
Will lifts his head just enough to deadpan, “Sure, Blackman. And I let you take my red shell.”
“Exactly,” Micah says, like that proves his point.
Luke groans. “God, you two are already insufferable.”
I take a slow sip of my coffee. “Get used to it.”
Micah’s knee bumps mine under the table. “Yeah. We’re only getting worse.”
Luke shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Fine. But if you bring that gross couple energy to Mario Kart night, I’m separating you.”
“Try it,” Micah says, teeth flashing in a way that tells me he’s already planning exactly how to make Luke regret the threat.
I can’t stop grinning. Even with all the chirping and threats of video game violence, the reality’s humming in the back of my mind—we’re walking into my mom’s house tonight. Together. No hiding. No excuses.