All Chapters of More Than Roommates : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Alex~One year laterI wake up to the same ceiling I’ve stared at for most of my life. My bag sits on the floor by the door, zipped, heavy, waiting. The morning light is pale and stiff through the curtains. It smells like dust and laundry detergent and something faintly burnt from the kitchen downstairs.A whole year.It has been a whole year since that night.I sit up slowly, rubbing a hand over my face. Everything feels older my bones, my chest, even the silence in this house. It’s not the loud, chaotic Christmas energy anymore. It’s a quieter cold, like everyone got tired in the same way but refuses to say it out loud.My phone buzzes once on the pillow.Seth: Up yet? The room looks weird without your mess.My chest warms instantly. It never really gets old and it never stops surprising me that he still does that; texts first thing in the morning, calls at night, stays on video for hours while we both pretend not to be sleepy. Its been a whole year, and somehow he still feels l

Alex~I wake up with Seth’s arm thrown over my waist and his face buried somewhere between the back of my shoulder and my neck. The room is warm in a heavy, and my legs feel like I borrowed someone else’s, loose and sore, it makes my stomach flip every time I shift.His breath hits my skin, then his lips. He’s awake enough to kiss my skin without lifting his head.“Morning,” he mutters, voice rough, lazy.“Morning,” I whisper back.He drags me closer like I’m a pillow, my body fits into his automatically as we stay in a spoon, I feel his chest rise against my back, slow and steady, he doesn’t seem like he had a plan to move or the next four hours.“Stay,” he says into my shoulder, when I adjust my shoulder.“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”“Good,” he breathes, tightening his arm.A warmth settles in me, his thumb strokes the skin above my hipbone.“Did you sleep well?” he asks.“Yeah. You?”“No. I just watched you breathe all night.”I sigh, pinching his thigh. “Seth.”He laughs

Alex~The second quarter starts with a shift in pace. Their team brings in a bigger lineup, trying to bully our guards into turnovers. It works for maybe two possessions. Then Seth adjusts and slows the game down, signals for a high pick-and-roll, and drags their tallest defender out farther than he wants to go. When the guy hesitates, Seth attacks the gap and pulls up for a clean mid-range shot.It drops.I lift my camera again. I’m not even thinking about it now; it’s automatic. Every time he moves, I want to catch it. Every moment feels like it means something because he keeps looking up to check that I’m seeing all of it.Sam reaches over and takes a sip of his drink. “He’s really playing out of his mind.”I don’t answer because I’m too focused. The crowd gets louder with every possession. Someone behind me keeps shouting Seth’s name like they know him personally and I try not to react.Coach switches lineups halfway through the quarter, giving Seth a quick breather. Even from the

Alex~Seth insists on walking me halfway across campus even though he’s already running late for practice, and his bag looks like it weighs twice as much today. He keeps throwing these small looks at me quick ones, that are not subtle at all as if I might change my mind about going. When we get to the split in the path, he slows down instead of stopping, like his body doesn’t understand the assignment.“You remember the room number, right?” he asks.“I literally have it in my email.”He nods but stays there, hands in his pockets, not moving. The wind keeps teasing strands of his hair forward, and he keeps messing with them like he’s stalling on purpose.“Text me if anything feels off,” he says.“It’s a meeting, not a wrestling match,” I reply.He grins, tilts his head, leans in for a quick kiss and then backs away like he doesn’t want to, but has to.“Go,” I tell him, waving him toward the athletics building.He jogs backward for a few steps, watching me like I might disappear if he b

Alex~ Dinner ends up being at the noodle place across from the library because Jordan swears it’s the only restaurant on campus that “respects the sanctity of broth.” Seth and I meet him at the entrance well, actually, we find him pacing in front of it like he’s been rehearsing a monologue he wants to perform at us. “There you are,” Jordan says, stepping right into my personal space. “Start talking.” I blink. “About what?” Seth laughs under his breath. “Everything. Obviously.” “Yes,” Jordan says, already pushing the door open, “everything, every detail, every micro-detail. I want to know who you worked with, what the lighting situation was, which gays were there, and who has a crush on you. Because someone does. Someone always does.” Inside, the smell of garlic hits immediately. We squeeze into a booth, Seth sliding in beside me, Jordan across from us. He slaps the menu down like it offended him. “Okay,” he says, already pointing at me, “speak.” I don’t even get a chan