LOGIN“Don’t start with that ‘Nate and I both’ thing,” he says. “I don’t even think it’s correct. Just say ‘Nate and I think.’”
I blink.
Then answer anyway.
“It is correct. We’re both thinking about it together, that’s why I said it.”
Except nothing about him ever looks effortless. Not really. Not when it’s him.Silence stretches between us.Heavy. Charged. Wrong in a way I don’t know how to fix.I should wait. Let him lead. Let him decide what this is.Yes. That’s the plan.Calm. Controlled. Normal.“I douched,” I say suddenly.The words land like a grenade in a quiet room.Theo freezes.His eyes widen.His mouth follows.For a split second, he looks genuinely shocked.For a longer second, so do I.“Oo ” I start.Nope. That wasn’t English.I try again. It comes out worse.Theo drops his bag. It hits the floor with a dull thud that snaps me back into my body.And that’s when I notice it.The object in my hand.Cold. Smooth. Cylindrical.Lube.Of course it’s lube.My soul tries to leave my body.I
I lay there for hours, staring into nothing, replaying everything like a curse I couldn’t shut off. Even now, at breakfast, the echo of last night still burns on my lips. Tingling. Persistent. Unfair.Coffee. Fruit. Silence.And still my body hasn’t gotten the message.Across from me sits Theo.Not eating. Not speaking. Not even doing his usual restless nonsense no chair rocking, no shoulder rolls, no amused little distractions he usually hides behind.Just… watching.Like I’m the only thing in the room worth looking at.Elbow on the table. Chin resting on his hand. Completely still.Then I glance up.And he smiles.Slow.Intentional.His teeth drag lightly over his bottom lip unhurried, almost absentminded but it lands like a strike anyway. A quiet, deliberate provocation.His eyes don’t look away.Not once.Lockie keeps flicking between us like he
He closes the distance in a few steps, but it feels like time breaks apart while he does it. Like the hallway stretches just to trap me inside this moment.When he’s close enough to touch, he turns slightly away.And lifts a hand.Slowly.Like he’s remembering something.He reaches behind his head.Ties his hair.Except he doesn’t put it in.He pulls the band free instead.Black. Simple. Familiar.Then he looks back at me.And offers it.Just like that.My brain short-circuits.I take it without thinking. Fingers numb. Heart hammering so hard I swear it’s audible.“What… is this?” I manage.Theo doesn’t answer right away.Instead, he steps closer again.Takes my wrist.And slides the hair tie onto it.Deliberate.Careful.Like he’s placing something that belongs there.M
That look.The kind that came from somewhere below language. "Walking you to your room."I turned and started down the hallway before my face could do something I'd regret.This hotel was one of my favorites black and white checkered floors, low dramatic lighting, the kind of moody elegance that felt borrowed from a different era. The corridor was wide enough for three people shoulder to shoulder.With Theo directly behind me, it felt like a corridor built for one.I found my room number, stopped, and reached back for my bag.He didn't hand it over immediately.I turned around.He was closer than I'd registered close enough that I had to tilt my chin slightly to meet his eyes. He was looking at me with that expression he'd been wearing all evening the one I couldn't parse, the one that lived in the contested territory between anger and something rawer and less safe."Theo." My voice ca
Congratulations, Captain. Now step down quietly, or what I know about your goalie goes public by midnight. Silence pressed through the bus like a held breath no one dared release. âAlright. That settles it. Cassian stays captain of the Silverfang until further notice.â A few nods. No argument. No hesitation. But my mind wasnât on any of it. âWhy did you do that?â I finally asked, eyes fixed on the road as I drove toward St. Josephâs Womenâs Hospital. My grip tightened on the wheel. âWas it because â âI didnât do it because I love you.â The words hit like a clean strike to the chest. Not a crack. A full collapse. Something inside me didnât just break it scattered, fine and irretrievable, like glass turned to dust. And the worst part? The way he said it so casually. Like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing. Except I did feel it. That was the sick, unbearable part. I
She appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her face had done something complicated surprise folding into something softer and more careful. "Theodore." Her voice was different now. Quieter. "There's someone here for you." I stood slowly. "Who?" She hesitated just a half-second, just enough and stepped aside. And my heart stopped completely. Because it wasn't Theo. It was his mother. Theo Cassian pov Dallas was eating us alive. One goal down since the first period, and we were falling apart in real time scrambling, sloppy, yelling at each other across the ice like a high school team that hadn't practiced in a month. Coach was on the sideline with his eyes practically leaving his skull. Jasper our captain, the man who was supposed to be holding this together was somewhere else entirely in his head. I wasn't much better. Because Vincent was in goal. Vincent my Vincent, though he didn't know that yet and might never was standing between the pipes while some of the most d
Luca Moretti POVIâve lost control.I see it happening in real time. I know exactly how bad this is, and still still I keep going back to Tyler Bennett like Iâm addicted to the damage. I tell myself to stop. I donât. I never do.Thereâs something broken in me. Itâs not like life hasnât already beat
My chest tightens. âJesus, Bennett.âI shove him away and spin him around, pinning him against the locker by the back of his neck. I donât have a plan I just need distance. Time. Anything.I stare straight ahead, because if I look down, Iâm done. It takes everything I have not to.Everything.My co
Tyler Bennett pov Iâve never been this wired to travel in my life. Not for the flight. Not for the landing. Not for the bus, the hotel, any of it. Every mile closer feels like a countdown.Ever since Moretti told me what happens to boys like me, the words have lived under my skin.I havenât gone a
What the fuck are those?â I blurt before I can stop myself.He doesnât look at me, gaze fixed a few inches to my left. âTheyâre pajamas, Bennett. Sleepwear. To avoid making others uncomfortable.ââHate to break it to you, bud, but those arenât pajamas. Theyâre jammies.âHe says nothing, but a tiny







