Alex~
I leave the locker room in silence, but my thoughts are anything but. There's a roaring in my ears, like background static turned all the way up. I keep walking past the vending machines, past the empty courts, past anything that might force me to stop and think.
Because if I stop, I'll have to unpack what just happened.
What almost happened.
And I can't… I can't do that.
I need air. I need distance. I need…
Tracey?
She's standing outside the dorm, leaning against the wall like she's been waiting. Her arms are folded across her chest, hair pinned back, expression unreadable.
My stomach flips.
"Hey," I say, stopping a few feet away.
"Hey," she echoes. "You walked. Didn't think you would."
I shrug. "Felt like clearing my head."
Her eyes narrow a little, but she doesn't press it. Just nods and pushes off the wall. "Can we talk?"
I hesitate but step aside to unlock the door.
We don't say much as we walk in but there's tension in the silence and I am certain it is thick with the thing simmering between us that hasn't cooled since her bedroom.
Inside the dorm, it's dim. I flick on the small desk lamp, casting a soft gold over the room.
"Roomie not home?" she asks, stepping in and looking around.
"Not yet."
She gestures to my bed. "Can we sit?"
I nod. We both sit me on the edge, her cross-legged beside me.
"Alex," she starts, voice soft, "can we talk about the other night?"
I look away. "Thought we already did."
"Not really." She picks at a loose thread on her sleeve. "You said you were sorry. That it wasn't me. But that's kind of all you said."
I exhale, slow. "I meant it. It's not you."
"Then what is it?" she asks, the hurt very evident in her tone. "Because this isn't the first time it's happened."
I shift uncomfortably. "I don't know." I could really do without this conversation right now.
She watches me closely. "You said you couldn't. That you weren't in the right headspace or whatever. But it felt like more than that."
I say nothing.
She presses on, gently. "It's not… a physical thing, is it? Like, not a medical problem?"
"No," I say too fast. "No. It's not that."
Her gaze sharpens. "Then what is it? Because you kiss me like you mean it, and then your body just… it just shuts off."
I run a hand through my hair, heat creeping into my neck. "It's not on purpose. I don't know why it happens, okay?"
"I'm not accusing you," she says quietly. "I'm just trying to understand. Because I care about you. And this," she makes a hand gesture. "whatever's going on, it's starting to feel like I'm not allowed to ask questions."
I bite the inside of my cheek.
What do I even say?
That sometimes when she touches me, I feel like I'm playing a role I don't remember auditioning for?
That kissing her feels like comfort, but everything after that feels like trespassing into a version of myself that doesn't quite exist?
That I keep having dreams where everything makes sense until I wake up and realize the person I'm kissing isn't her?
No.
No, I can't say any of that. Not without unraveling whatever thread is holding me together.
"I'm just stressed," I say instead. "School. Life. I don't know."
Tracey doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't push either. She leans back against the wall, blowing out a slow breath.
"We don't have to figure it out right now," she says eventually. "I just… needed to say it out loud."
"Okay."
There's a knock on the door.
And suddenly, I want to evaporate.
I know that knock. He unlocks the door with his own key.
Seth steps in a second later, headphones around his neck, gym bag slung over his shoulder. He stops in the doorway, taking in the scene, me on the bed, Tracey sitting cross-legged next to me, both of us quiet and a little too stiff.
His eyes flick to me. "Hey."
"Hey," I say, and my voice cracks. Just slightly.
He raises an eyebrow, like he hears it, but doesn't comment. "Didn't know we had company."
Tracey smiles, casual. "Just catching up."
"Cool," Seth says, dropping his bag by the closet. He pulls off his hoodie, and I immediately look away, my neck burning with a hot flush.
He tosses the hoodie onto his bed, then stretches, muscles flexing like a damn visual punishment. "You guys eaten?"
"Not yet," Tracey says.
Seth glances at the clock. "I was gonna heat up that leftover beef."
"Three-way dinner?" she offers.
He shrugs. "Sure."
That out of the way, we all make our way out of the bedroom to the kitchen. Seth and Tracey move around each other easily. Tracey grabbing forks, Seth opening the fridge. I stay mostly useless in the corner, hyper-aware of Seth's bare arms, the soft curl of damp hair at the base of his neck, the low sound of his humming as he waits for the microwave.
Dinner is weirdly normal. We eat from mismatched bowls and complain about the heat, Tracey teasing Seth about leaving a banana in the fridge too long. He throws a plantain chip at her. She throws it back.
And I sit there, smiling when I should, nodding when expected, feeling like my skin doesn't fit quite right.
Eventually, she checks her phone. "I should head out. Early class."
I walk her to the door. She pauses in the hallway.
"We're okay, right?" she asks.
I nod. "Yeah."
She leans in. Kisses my cheek. "Goodnight, Alex."
"Night."
I shut the door exhaling a breakth I've been holding in for like an hour.
Seth's already turned off the main light by the time I return to the bedroom, now is curled on his bed with his phone. He looks up as I move past him, says nothing.
I crawl under the covers, stare at the ceiling.
Eventually, the silence gets too loud.
"You good?" I ask.
"Yeah," he replies, without looking at me. "You?"
"Yeah."
But I'm not.
Because I still feel the heat of his skin from the locker room.
I don't comment on how Seth's breathing is even and steady across the room, and mine is not.
I close my eyes and allow myself go with the wind.