Chapter Six
Bryce’s mouth was warm. Beer on his breath. He paused like he was asking a question without words. Sage answered by leaning in.
Coats pressed against his back. The bass outside dropped to a dull thud.
Someone tried to do a countdown but lost track.
Sage ignored it all. He focused on the smaller things.
The light drag of Bryce’s bottom lip, the bump of noses when they both shifted, the way Bryce sighed like he’d been holding it for too long.
This was supposed to be simple. A kiss and done. Enough for the noisy room outside, then Bryce’s hand slid along the side seam of Sage’s T-shirt and gripped it. Sage opened a little, and Bryce met him. There was no rush or push. Just intent and then the kiss changed, becoming deeper.
Heat built faster than Sage anticipated.
His fingers went to Bryce’s shoulder and then slid into his hair.
It was softer than it looked. When he tightened his grip a little, Bryce made a low sound that hit Sage hard.
Bryce shifted them closer without crowding.
Shoulder to knee, Sage felt all of him. Felt his arousal.
“Okay?” Bryce whispered.
“Yeah,” Sage groaned. His voice came out lower than he meant.
Bryce’s fingers pressed into Sage’s side, and Sage’s body lit up to it.
His thumb ran along the hinge of Bryce’s jaw and caught on the stubble.
Bryce’s palm covered the small of Sage’s back and held him there.
Every time Sage’s hand tightened in Bryce’s hair, Bryce answered with that same low sound.
Their tongues touched, slid together, Bryce’s stubble scratched Sage’s skin.
The door rattled once, voices shushed, and time stretched.
Sage didn’t know how long they had. He knew one thing, though.
Stopping felt wrong, but going faster felt risky.
Bryce edged a foot forward and their legs lined up.
Heat jumped along Sage’s thigh. His breath caught.
Bryce kissed him through it, slow and deep.
Sage kept his grip on Bryce’s hair and tugged once.
The small pull sent a shiver through Bryce that Sage felt everywhere they touched.
“Time!” someone yelled.
They didn’t break immediately. Bryce gave him one more slow kiss like he wanted more, and Sage let him.
A fist hit the door, and that ended their kiss.
They pulled apart slowly, breathing hard.
Sage let the coats take his weight and looked.
Bryce’s mouth was pink, lips puffy and wet.
His hair was a mess where Sage’s hand had been.
His eyes were darker than gray. Open. A little shocked, showing the same emotion Sage felt.
“Guess the experiment’s done,” Sage murmured. His voice wasn’t steady.
“Results inconclusive,” Bryce whispered.
The door cracked. Noise poured in. Lizzie whooped. Dan yelled about extra credit or some shit. Tara told everyone to shut up. Bryce pushed the door and stepped out with a smirk that kept people from looking too close, which Sage appreciated.
“Satisfied?” Bryce called, arms flung wide.
More noise followed Bryce’s statement as Sage stepped out behind him.
The room felt cooler after being in the closet.
He put on a half-smile and let the jokes bounce off him.
Someone asked how dark the closet was. “Dark enough,” he said.
Someone suggested a camera, and Tara threw a napkin. Fine. Sage could handle the noise.
Bryce dropped onto the couch, grabbed a beer, and drank like it could wash the night off. He didn’t look over at Sage. He took the chair by the wall and let his chest settle. The beer in his hand was warm, but he drank it anyway. He needed it after that kiss and the way it had affected him.
The game stuttered through two more spins and eventually died. One by one, people left, and the apartment fell into silence.
Sage stood. “Trash first,” he said, more to himself than to Bryce, just to have a task.
He moved through the room. Bottles clinked.
Cups stacked. The table got wiped. His brain kept trying to replay the closet.
He pushed back and scrubbed harder. He found Lizzie’s bent plastic fork under the couch and put it on the counter.
Bryce stayed on the couch. Stayed still.
Sage tied off the last bag and turned. Bryce had his arm along the back cushion and his head tipped against it. At a glance, he looked bored. The tight mouth and white knuckles on the fabric said otherwise.
Sage drew a breath. “We need to talk.”
Bryce didn’t move. “About what?”
“The closet.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Bryce,” Sage murmured.
Bryce looked at him, his eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I felt you.”
Bryce sat up fast. “Yeah? I felt you too. We’re men. We’re easily pleased.”
“Is that what you want to call it?”
“What else is it?” Bryce stood. “It was a game. Two minutes. Do you want a paper or something?”
“You’d fail the format,” Sage snapped.
Bryce glared at him. “Funny.”
“Not trying to be.”
They stood with the coffee table between them.
“I’m not—” Bryce stopped, then dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m not doing this. I don’t know what it makes me. I don’t know what it makes us. I don’t want to ruin the one good thing I have.”
“You won’t,” Sage whispered.
Bryce glanced at him. “You don’t know that.”
“I know you.” Sage straightened. “And I know me. We don’t break easily.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No,” Sage agreed. “It isn’t.”
Bryce’s jaw hardened, and he looked at the floor.
“Do you regret it?” Sage asked.
Bryce didn’t answer.
Sage tried again. “It’s not a trap. I need to know where your head is.”
“My head says it was nothing,” Bryce told him. The edge had gone from his voice. “Can we go with that?”
“If you want to lie.”
Bryce’s eyes snapped to his. “That isn’t fair.”
“No, but it’s honest.”
Bryce laughed once. “Fine. It didn’t feel like a joke, and that freaks me out. Happy?”
“No.”
“There.” Bryce spread his hands. “Now you know why I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You wanted to kiss me again,” Sage said. Not a challenge. A fact.
Bryce fired back before he could stop it. “So did you.” He grimaced like he wanted to take the words back and ran his hand through his hair.
“Yeah,” Sage said. “I did.”
Silence fell between them, the air heavy with tension.
“I’m not built for this,” Bryce said quietly.
“For what?”
“This.” He gestured between them. “Whatever this is. I don’t have a label for it.”
“You don’t need one tonight.”
Bryce paced in front of him. “Can we not do this now?”
“We can wait,” Sage agreed. “But we’re not pretending it didn’t happen.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It isn’t,” Sage argued, then shook his head. He nodded toward the hall. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Bryce stood another second, then he spun on his heel, walked down the hall, and shut his door. Quiet settled again, and Sage stood there until the tightness in his chest eased. It didn’t go away, but it did ease.
He checked the windows, put some of the bottles they’d used by the sink, and straightened things that were already straight.
His head didn’t clear. The details got sharper instead.
Bryce’s hand steadying the bottle earlier, the small crease he got when he focused, the way he looked right at people when they talked.
None of that was new. The new part was what it felt like now. How it made Sage feel inside.
He filled a glass and drank water he didn’t want. The cold did nothing to help. His hand shook once when he put the glass down. He made a fist and pressed his knuckles to the counter until it stopped. Closing his eyes, he counted to ten and then opened them.
A door somewhere down the hall rattled. Not Bryce’s.
A neighbor. Sage realized he’d been listening for Bryce and didn’t love that about himself.
He took the trash out to the stairwell and stood in the cold for a minute.
When he went back inside, he left the hall lamp on and turned the living room one off.
He stood at the edge of it and told himself the only things he knew for sure: he’d wanted more in the closet; Bryce had too, but neither of them was ready to name it.
Fine. He could live with that for a night.
He went to Bryce’s room. His hand paused on the knob, but he didn’t open the door. Instead, he knocked and waited. “You good?”
There were a few seconds of silence before Bryce answered. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” Sage said.
He went to bed and lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Finding no answers, Sage stood and went back into the kitchen. Leaning on the counter, he closed his eyes and felt Bryce’s lips on his. “Shit.”