Theo smiled. “You’ve got instinct. Don’t overthink it.”
I nodded quickly. “Right. Got it.” I wished I could read Theo’s expression.
Theo stood. “Good work.” He started to move away.
Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Do you ever get tired of being good at everything?”
Theo paused mid-step, glancing back over his shoulder. “Often,” he said. “Doesn’t stop me trying.”
And then he gave a brief, genuine smile, and my entire world tilted.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, replaying the way Theo’s voice had sounded when he’d said‘You’ve got instinct.’Not simply the words but the tone, warm and certain. I thought about Theo’s hands on the piano keys, steady and graceful.
The way his hair fell forward when he leaned in.
The clean scent of soap and coffee and something that made my skin prickle.
I shifted under the blanket, restless.
The realisation arrived slow and certain, like a song I’d always known but never sung aloud.
I wasn’t just admiring Theo.
Iwantedhim.
It wasn’t in the way my friends talked about wanting people. Sometimes that came across as a dare or a joke. This was quieter, deeper, a yearning that lived in the space between breath and voice.
Would he notice if I touched his hand? Could I do it without flinching? How would it feel to have someone look at me the way Theo looks at music?
I wanted to sing beside him andbelongthere.
And in that moment, I understood something else that should’ve scared me but didn’t.
I wasn’t straight.
I didn’t want girls, not really.
I wantedthis.
I wanted Theo.
The next morning, everything looked the same and yet nothing did.
Gary was making toast, talking about plans for the day. Theo was scrolling on his phone, a mug in his hand. It was normal, ordinary.
Until Theo looked up and caught me looking at him.
The glance barely lasted a second, but in that instant, my body remembered everything from the night before—the heat, the ache, the way all my thoughts had suddenly become clear as crystal.
I looked away, my heart hammering. And when I summoned up enough nerve to look back, Theo appeared not to have noticed, or at least pretended not to. He sipped his coffee, calm as ever.
But between his brows sat the smallest crease.
I spent the rest of the morning sketching, trying to ignore the awareness burning through me, to leave it behind in a burst of creativity.
When I finished, I looked down at the page and froze.