Standing there, watching Bennet walk toward me like he wasn’t already halfway under my skin, I knew exactly how this could end.
And I knew, just as clearly, that it wouldn’t stop me.
He reached me then, close enough that I could hear him over the music, close enough that his presence cut through everything else. He smiled up at me, eyes bright, completely unaware of the quiet war going on in my chest.
I smiled back.
Because no matter how many times I’d been burned before, no matter how badly this could hurt later, I was already in too deep.
And some part of me, the part that had always fallen hard and stayed standing alone afterward, didn’t want to pull back at all.
Bennet stopped in front of me like the room had rearranged itself around us. Rowan peeled off almostimmediately, muttering something about finding snacks that didn’t look like we’d gathered them from between the cushions, and just like that, it was the two of us, standing just a little too close to keep up the appearances.
“Hi,” Bennet said softly.
“Hey,” I said. I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt. “You made it.”
“Eventually.” He tilted his head, eyes flicking to the beer in my hand. “Have you actually been drinking that, or is it just a prop?”
I looked at the bottle in my hand. “I like the aesthetic. Think I’ll keep it.”
He laughed, a quick huff that felt like a reward. “Figures.”
We shifted closer to the wall, half out of the traffic flow, our shoulders brushing. The contact sent a stupid thrill through me, electric and bright. I felt giddy, like I’d had too much sugar or not enough sleep, like my body didn’t know how to contain all of this without shaking a little.
“How’re you feeling about Stats?” he asked, leaning in so I could hear him over the music.
I grinned. “Dangerously competent.”
“That’s a bold claim.”
“I know. But I did a full practice exam yesterday and only panicked twice.”
“Only twice,” he repeated solemnly. “That’s real growth.”
“I’m basically cured,” I said. “You’re gonna have tofind a new project.”
His mouth curved in that small, pleased way he got when he was proud of me. “I doubt that.”
We talked like that for a while, jumping from one small thing to another: the test next week, Dud’s latest heroic failure, and the shiny knight’s eternal patience. It was our own shorthand now, references layered on references, jokes that wouldn’t land for anyone else in the room.
Every time he smiled at me, something inside my chest tipped forward.
I watched him as he talked, red lips all sharp and defined and precise, eye glimmering with curiosity that ran so deep through him that it was the very core of who he was.
I’d wanted people before. I’d wanted them intensely, messily. This felt different. Quieter and louder at the same time. Like standing at the edge of something deep and beautiful and having the urge to take the next step, even if it killed you.
“Jason,” he said, and I realized I’d drifted a little too far into my own head.
“Yeah?”
“You’re smiling like you just solved a murder.”
I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sorry. I just…like you.” The words slipped out too easily. Not a confession, not really. Something lighter. Safer.
His ears went pink anyway. “I like you, too,” he said, just as simply.
I looked at him and felt it all at once. The warmth.The fear. The urge to pull him closer and the equal urge to protect this fragile, perfect thing from my own tendency to break it by wanting too much.