I freeze. For a second, I consider moving away, since there's more room now, but then—I don't.
Because I like it.
I like the way the warmth spreads through me, like the point of contact is its own little secret. I like that he doesn't shift away either, that he doesn't even acknowledge it—like it's normal for us to be pressed together like this.
Maybe it is.
Maybe I'm the only one making it weird.
I exhale softly, trying to focus on the movie, trying to ignore my heart beating just a little too fast. I can't help but marvel at how comfortable this feels—sitting beside him, sharing a blanket, our bodies connected in these small, seemingly insignificant ways.
The bowl in my hands is empty now, but the warmth inside me remains. Not just from the food, though it was delicious, but from him—from the care he took in making it, from the memories it brought back, from the way he's always taken care of me in his own way.
But the realization is already there, settling in deep.
I don't just like this.
I want more.
18
JAXON
Icheck my phone and sigh, setting my empty bowl down on the coffee table. "I gotta head out."
Madison glances over, blinking like she'd forgotten I had practice. "Already?" There's something in her voice—a softness, a reluctance—that makes my chest tighten.
I smirk, trying to keep it light, even though the way she's looking at me is anything but. "You sound disappointed."
She scoffs, pulling the blanket tighter around her. "I just thought I'd have more time to destroy you in Mario Kart."
I chuckle, standing and stretching. "We both know that's a lie." What I don't say is that I wish I could stay too. I'd rather be here, on this couch with her, than anywhere else.
She rolls her eyes but doesn't argue, which is as close to admitting defeat as she'll ever get. The sunlight filtering through the windows catches on her hair, making the lighter strands stick out more, and for a moment, I can't look away. It's these little moments that kill me—when she's soft and unguarded, when the walls she's built between us seem paper-thin.
I grab my duffel bag from the corner, slinging it over my shoulder, trying to ignore the hollow feeling settling in my chest. "You staying here for a bit?"
She hesitates like she's debating it, fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. "I should probably head out too."
I nod, stepping toward her. Then—before I can overthink it—I reach out and tug on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, just for a second. My fingers linger, not wanting to break the contact. "You coming to the game this weekend?"
Her breath catches slightly, but she covers it with a small smile. Her eyes meet mine, and there's something there—something raw and unspoken—that makes my heart hammer against my ribs. "Are you asking or telling?"
I smirk, holding her gaze. "Both."
She shakes her head but doesn't pull away. "We'll see."
I don't push her, don't say anything else, even though I want to. I want to tell her I play better when she's there, that I look for her in the stands every time I step onto the field. It matters to me whether or not she shows up. Instead, I just nod and step back, letting my hand fall away from her sleeve.
Putting the dishes in the sink, I hand over her bag and walk towards the door, leaving it open for Carter to follow.
"See you later, Mads."
I watch as she walks to her car, something unreadable in her expression—longing, maybe, or fear—and for the first time all day, I wonder if maybe—maybe—she's starting to want more too. Maybe she feels this same ache that's been living in my chest for over a decade.
Carter rushes out the door as Madison pulls out of our driveway. He jumps into the back of my truck, slapping the side. “Let’s go, lover boy.”
The locker room is buzzing with pre-practice energy—guys shoving around, music blasting from someone's speaker, the occasional snap of a towel fight breaking out in the background. I sit on the bench, taping my wrists, but my mind isn't really here.
