Alex~
The next day, I breeze through the day and by the time the final class ends, my brain feels like overcooked rice soft and slow. I don't even realize I've zoned out until Jordan elbows me in the ribs while we're filing out with the crowd.
"You good?" he asks, popping open a bag of spicy chips.
"Yeah. Just tired."
He gives me a look. "From sitting? You're so brave."
I nudge his shoulder, smiling despite myself. "My bravery is unmatched."
We fall into step, drifting out of the building into the hot afternoon. Campus feels washed out in that after-school haze people everywhere but somehow quiet, like everyone's too fried to shout. Jordan crunches on another chip and glances at me.
"Wanna chill on the bleachers before I head out? I need time to decompress from that seminar before I start writing the reaction paper I'm gonna ignore for three days."
It's tempting to say no, so I could just go back to the dorm, collapse into my bed, avoid whatever new tension's waiting in that tiny room with Seth.
But I nod. "Yeah. Let's go."
We grab drinks from a vending machine and walk to the bleachers behind the gym, where the sun's still hanging low and the court's empty, except for an old soda can rolling around. Jordan climbs up to the third row, sprawling out like he owns the metal. I sit beside him, dragging a hand through my hair.
"Can we talk about how that TA said 'juxtaposition' fifteen times in one sentence?" he says, twisting off the cap of his soda.
"I thought his mouth was going to cramp."
"It was like a Word-of-the-Day calendar had sex with a Wikipedia article."
I snort, shaking my head. "You're insane."
He grins, popping another chip into his mouth. "Takes one to know one."
The conversation shifts into him talking about his internship, about the media capstone project he's planning, and I actually start to relax. My laughter doesn't feel forced and I manage forget I've been tense.
Until the gym doors bang open.
Sneakers squeak against polished wood. Laughter bounces across the court.
And then I see him.
Seth.
Tank top slung low, ball in hand, hair still wet from a rinse. He walks onto the court like he was born there, like he doesn't even have to think about it. His team fans out behind him shoving, yelling and teasing each other. The space is suddenly full of heat and presence.
Jordan nods toward the court. "Oh look. It's the bi menace."
I choke on my drink. "Don't call him that."
He laughs. "I mean it as a compliment. Guy's built like a sin."
"Jordan…"
"You know it's true."
I try to play it cool, sip my drink, ignore the way my gaze keeps getting dragged back to Seth's body, the way his tank clings to him, the way he moves, efficient, smooth and confident. I feel it in my stomach, sharp and warm and not entirely welcome.
Jordan elbows me again. "Your eyes are doing a thing."
"They're literally just… working."
"They're working overtime on your hot roommate."
I groan, dragging my hand down my face. "Can you not?"
He grins. "Okay, okay. But if you start drooling, I'm taking a picture."
I try not to look. I do but I fail. Even straight guys can admire other guys, I tel myself.
Seth's team breaks into a scrimmage, and it's almost painful to watch how easily he dominates the field like gravity doesn't apply to him. He shoots from the corner without looking and sinks it like the basket begged for it. The court erupts in a yell.
Then he looks up.
Right at me.
I forget how to blink. He holds the stare, sweat dripping down his neck, and then without breaking eye contact he shoots again.
Three points. Nothing but net.
I whip my head around so fast it's embarrassing.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Fine."
"Mm-hmm."
We sit in silence a while longer, the sun dipping lower, the shadows stretching across the court. Jordan checks his phone.
"I should head out. My cousin's dog-sitting and already threatening to Venmo-charge me for every extra minute."
I nod. "I'll hang back. Need to grab water anyway."
Jordan gives me a look that says he sees more than I want him to, but he just says, "See you tomorrow," and leaves me with his unfinished chips and a head full of noise.
I wait until most of the players filter out, towels slung over shoulders, laughing and shoving each other toward the showers. When it's quiet enough, I slip off the bleachers and head toward the vending machines outside the locker rooms.
I grab a bottle of water, open it, and turn straight into Seth.
He's standing in the open doorway of the locker room, hair wet and curling slightly, towel around his neck, tank top gone. His skin is flushed and damp, chest still rising like he hasn't quite cooled down.
"Hey," he says.
I take a step back. "Hey."
"You stalking me again?"
"I came for water."
"Uh-huh."
"I didn't know you were still here."
He smirks. "Sure you didn't."
The locker room is mostly empty and we are left to our vices and the the hum of fluorescent lights and the echo of dripping showers. He turns and disappears inside without saying another word.
And like an idiot, I follow.
The steam hits first warm and soft and smelling faintly like mint shampoo. Seth's at his locker, towel tossed over the bench, back turned as he pulls on a clean shirt but doesn't bother buttoning it. I stop by the entrance, hovering like I'm waiting for permission.
"You always watch me like that?"
I blink. "Like what?"
He turns. "Like you're memorizing something you're not supposed to see."
I swallow, grip tightening around the water bottle.
"You think too much of yourself," I mutter.
He steps closer. Not in a threatening manner but just near enough that I can smell the sweat and soap on his skin. The door clicks shut behind me, soft but loud in the silence.
"You didn't answer my question."
"Which one?"
"Why you were staring."
I try to laugh it off. "I wasn't."
He tilts his head, eyes dropping to my mouth for a second before meeting mine again. "Liar."
I take a shaky breath. "It's not what you think."
"What do I think?"
"That I'm…"
"Gay?" he offers, voice low.
"Confused."
He nods slowly. "That part, I believe."
I shift, suddenly hot under the hoodie I shouldn't have worn in this heat. My voice comes out quieter than I mean. "You make it hard to think straight."
Seth's lips twitch. "I've been told that."
I hate how much that makes me want to smile.
Instead, I say, "Tracey's your cousin."
He raises a brow. "You just now putting that together?"
"You could've said something."
"You could've asked."
We're quiet for a beat.
Then he says, "You gonna keep running from this forever?"
I shake my head, not because I have an answer, but because I don't know what else to do.
He moves closer and for a second I think he's going to kiss me.
He doesn't.
He just stands there, chest to chest, eyes searching mine.
"You want me to stop?" he asks.
I don't answer.
Not yes. Not no.
Just silence.
Eventually, I step back. I don't know what I'm doing I just know if I stay, something will happen I can't take back.
Seth doesn't move. I heard his soft exhale of tiredness when I walk out.