Chapter Sixteen
It took only a minute for Bryce to respond. I’m in. I’ll grab seats.
Cutting across the quad, Sage held on to the hood of his hoodie as the wind rushed around him. Students moved fast with their heads down. Sage kept going. He wanted a shower and twenty minutes without thinking about coursework or what people were saying.
The apartment was warm by the time Sage stepped inside. He hung his jacket, turned the shower on hot, and stood under it until he felt warm. Once he was finished, he dressed quickly in a clean T-shirt, hoodie, and jeans. He grabbed a beanie and texted Bryce. Leaving now.
Second row from the back. Right side. Popcorn secured.
The student union lobby was busy but not too loud by the time he got there.
Posters for a blood drive and a poetry night were pinned to a board.
The auditorium doors stood open, and inside, the screen was a rectangle of blue with the media player menu up.
People filtered in, talking in low voices.
Someone dropped a cup. Someone else laughed too loud and got shushed.
Bryce had found a row near the back, close enough to the aisle that they could bail if it got boring.
Popcorn on the seat, soda next to it, jacket folded and set on the empty chair next to him.
He looked over when Sage stepped in, and his mouth went soft at the corners in a way he didn’t show anyone else.
“So you beat me,” Sage said, dropping into the seat.
“I left the lab on time,” Bryce said. “Franklin threatened to lock the doors.”
“Threats work.”
“Sometimes.”
Sage took the popcorn and stole a handful, moaning at the taste. Salty and buttery. Perfect. He leaned back and let his shoulders drop an inch, sighing as he slowly relaxed.
The lights dimmed in a slow slide, and a lobby volunteer did the phone spiel and pointed to the exit points. The room went darker once they’d finished, and the opening credits rolled.
For the first twenty minutes, Sage didn’t move. He watched the screen and tracked the plot out of habit. Two actors, he recognized. Snow, cabins, some kind of survival thing. He kept his breathing even and his hands still. He felt eyes on him, then nothing. Good. He wasn’t here for a scene.
Bryce didn’t crowd him. He sat back with his legs stretched, ankles crossed. He ate three pieces of popcorn at a time until the sound got annoying, and then he stopped. Small things like that were why Sage didn’t have to think so hard around him.
Half an hour in, Bryce lifted his hand off his own armrest and set it palm up in the space between them. Sage looked down at it, then at the screen, then back at the hand. He put his fingers in Bryce’s and felt Bryce curl his around them like it wasn’t a big deal.
“Okay?” Bryce whispered, his breath near his ear so it wouldn’t carry.
“Yeah,” Sage murmured back.
They stayed like that. At some point, Dan and Tara slid in four seats down and waved. Tara raised her eyebrows when she saw their hands and then looked at the screen. Dan gave a small thumbs-up and didn’t say anything. Sage appreciated that more than he’d admit.
The movie moved along: a broken truck, a bad decision in a snowstorm, too much shouting. Sage let it play. He could feel the buzz that lab days left behind start to fade. Every time the on-screen tension spiked, Bryce’s thumb did a slow pass across Sage’s knuckles.
Near the end, a group of guys two rows down started whispering in a way that wasn’t quiet.
A word drifted back—closet—and one of them snickered.
Sage’s stomach tightened out of habit. He didn’t look, but he didn’t let go, and Bryce didn’t either.
Five minutes later, those guys left early, their phones lighting the aisle as they went. The aisle usher hissed at them for it.
The credits rolled, and the lights slowly came on. People stood, stretched, complained about the last ten minutes where nothing made sense. Sage didn’t drop Bryce’s hand until they were in the aisle. He let go to put his jacket on. Bryce held the door to the lobby.
“Hungry?” Bryce asked.
“Not really,” Sage said. “We’ve got noodles at home.”
They stepped out into a cold that slapped all the warmed air away at once. Sage shoved his free hand into his hoodie pocket, and Bryce did the same.
Two people from Sage’s statistics class came out behind them. One walked past without looking. The other slowed, glanced at their hands, opened her mouth like she had something to say, then thought better of it and kept moving.
They cut right at the library. The wind died along the wall. A bench sat in the corner under a dead vine. They stopped there for a minute just to be out of the stream of bodies.
“Thanks,” Bryce said.
“For what?” Sage asked.
“Not hiding.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Sage said.
“Me either.”
A laugh pealed from the walkway. Someone said something about “closet boys” in a joking tone that carried anyway. Sage’s shoulders went tight and then he relaxed them. He decided not to give it any attention. He met Bryce’s eyes instead.
“You okay?” Bryce asked.
“I’m good,” Sage said. “Let them talk. It’ll stop eventually.”
Bryce nodded. “Let’s go home.”
They crossed the quad. Snow that had been a dirty crust yesterday was hard ice now and slick. They avoided the worst patches, so they wouldn’t skid or fall.
Inside the apartment, the heat hit, and his shoulders dropped another inch. He hung his coat and went to the kitchen. The soup pot was where they’d left it. He filled it with water, set it on the back burner, and reached for the noodles.
“You’re on bowls,” he said.
Bryce washed two and put them on the counter with a fork. He leaned a hip against the cabinet and watched Sage as he cooked.
“How’s your hand?” Bryce asked, nodding at the bandage Sage still wore.
“Fine,” Sage said. “Band-Aid didn’t make me smarter.”
“Still attached, though.”
“Barely.” They both grinned.
They ate at the table. “What’s tomorrow?” Bryce asked around a mouthful of noodles.
“Workshop at noon,” Sage said. “Then notes. You?”
“Gym early. Group study at two. I’ll text.”
“Okay.”
After washing the dishes, Bryce said, “Couch?”
“Yeah,” Sage said.
Bryce flipped the throw down and reached for the remote. He found an old cooking show rerun with bad lighting and soft clatter in the background.
When Sage sat, Bryce leaned in, and Sage met him halfway. The first kiss was soft and light. The second one was longer and deeper. Sage put his hand on Bryce’s side, pulling him closer. Bryce moaned and slid his hand over Sage’s chest.
Sage gasped into their kiss when Bryce’s fingers rubbed over his nipple. “Bryce.”
“They’re so sensitive,” Bruce murmured as he pushed Sage’s T-shirt up and licked over Sage’s nipple.
“I never knew they were until you.”
Bryce lifted his head and grinned. “I like being the first one to figure it out.”
Sage chuckled as he rolled his eyes. “Of course you do.”
“Let’s go to bed, Sage.”
Sage looked into Bryce’s eyes, seeing the heated look he gave him. “Yes.”
Bryce stood and pulled Sage up, then kissed him again. “Let’s go.” Sage laughed and followed Bryce into the bedroom. Not long after, the only sounds in the apartment were their moans and soft cries of pleasure.