We Were Left Alone After The Party… And Then THIS Happened
I swear, if Oliver hadn’t tripped over that stupid coffee table, none of this would have happened.
The party had already died down by then.
Music still playing, but low and kind of distorted, like the speakers were tired.
Empty bottles everywhere.
People either passed out or ubering home.
It was one of those nights that starts loud and ends in this weird, almost intimate silence.
And somehow, it was just me and him left.
Oliver and I weren’t exactly best friends.
More like same circle, same parties, occasional late-night talks when everyone else faded into the background.
He was the kind of guy who didn’t try too hard, which made people pay attention even more.
Messy dark hair, always slightly amused expression, like he knew something you didn’t.
And yeah, I noticed him.
Way more than I should have.
But nothing ever happened.
Not even close.
Until that night.
“Everyone seriously just dipped?”
He muttered, standing in the middle of the living room, turning in a slow circle like maybe people would magically reappear.
“Looks like it.”
I said, kicking an empty can out of the way.
“Congrats.
You’re the last man standing.”
He snorted.
“With you?
Not sure that’s a win.”
“Wow.
Rude.”
But he was smiling when he said it.
That small, sideways grin that always got under my skin a little.
There was this pause after that.
Not awkward exactly.
Just quiet in a way that made everything feel more noticeable.
The ticking of the clock, the hum of the fridge, the fact that we were suddenly alone in a place that had been packed an hour ago.
“Help me clean up a bit.”
He asked, grabbing a trash bag from under the sink.
I shrugged.
“Yeah, sure.”
So we started picking things up.
Bottles, cups, random jackets people had forgotten.
Normal stuff.
But every now and then, our hands would brush when we reached for the same thing.
Small, stupid moments.
Still, I felt them.
And I think he did, too.
At one point, he reached over me to grab something off the counter, and I caught a faint smell of his cologne mixed with alcohol.
It hit me way harder than it should have.
I stepped back a little too quickly, knocking into the chair behind me.
“Careful.”
He said, glancing at me.
“You good, Patrick?”
“Yeah.
Just tired.”
“Mhm.”
He didn’t sound convinced.
We kept going, slower now.
Like either of us was really focused on cleaning anymore.
After a while, he tossed the half-full trash bag aside and stretched, his shirt lifting just enough to show a strip of skin.
My brain immediately went, “Don’t look.”
And of course, I looked.
“All right.”
He said, exhaling.
“That’s enough.
I’m done.”
“Same.”
Another pause.
It was different this time.
He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, studying me in that quiet way he had.
Not intense exactly.
Just present.
“You’re quieter than usual.”
He said.
“I’ve always been quiet.”
“Not like this.”
I shrugged, avoiding his eyes.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
I hesitated.
Way too long.
He noticed.
His lips twitched slightly, like he was piecing something together.
“You’ve been acting weird all night.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it.”
He said, softer now.
“Something’s off.”
I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair.
I could have brushed it off, made a joke, changed the subject.
But instead, I said, “You ever feel like something’s about to happen, but you don’t know what?”
He tilted his head slightly.
“That’s vague as hell.”
“I know.”
Another silence.
And then he laughed, quiet but real.
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m not that drunk.”
“Mhm, debatable.”
He pushed himself off the counter and walked past me toward the couch, dropping down like he owned the place.
Which technically, he kind of did tonight.
“Come sit.”
He said, patting the spot next to him.
I hesitated for maybe a second.
Then I did.
Big mistake.
Because the moment I sat down, everything felt closer.
The space between us was barely anything.
His leg brushed mine, and neither of us moved away.
The TV was still on, some random late-night show playing, but neither of us paid attention to it.
“You know what this reminds me of?”
He said after a moment.
“What?”
“Those stories people post online.
Like” He smirked slightly.
“Two guys alone after a party.
Something weird happens.”
I huffed out a laugh.
“Yeah?
And how do those usually go?”
He turned his head, looking right at me now.
“Not well.”
There was something in the way he said it.
Not joking anymore.
My chest tightened a little.
“Define not well.”
He held my gaze for a second longer than necessary.
“Lines get crossed.
People regret things.”
I swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was.
“And you think that’s what’s happening right now?”
“I think” He paused, eyes flicking down briefly before coming back up.
“We’re both thinking about it.”
My heart started pounding.
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
A small smile.
“I have a pretty good guess.”
I should have shut it down right there.
Seriously.
That was the moment where I could have laughed it off, stood up, grabbed my jacket, and left.
Instead, I said, “Then say it.”
And the second the words left my mouth, I knew everything was about to go wrong.
Oliver didn’t answer right away.
He just looked at me.
Not in a teasing way, not like before.
This was different.
Quieter.
More serious than I’d ever seen him.
“You really want me to say it?”
He asked.
My throat felt dry all of a sudden, but I nodded anyway.
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
Then he leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose like he was debating something with himself.
“I think” He started slowly.
“You’ve been looking at me all night like you’re trying not to.”
My stomach dropped.
“And” He continued, eyes still locked on mine.
“I think I’ve been doing the same thing.”
The room felt smaller, warmer, louder somehow, even though it was dead quiet.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
I said quickly, even though it obviously did.
“Doesn’t it?
It could just be the alcohol.”
He gave a short, almost amused exhale.
“Patrick, I’m not that drunk.”
I didn’t respond.
Because neither was I.
That was the problem.
He shifted slightly, turning his body more toward me.
Our knees pressed together fully now, not just brushing.
Neither of us moved.
“So what now?”
He asked.
I let out a breath, staring down at my hands.
“I don’t know.”
“Yeah, you do.”
I shook my head.
“No, I”
“Then why didn’t you leave?”
He cut in, not harsh, just direct.
“Everyone else did.
You stayed.”
That hit harder than I expected.
“I was helping clean up.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You could have left after that.”
I didn’t have an answer.
Because he was right.
And he knew it.
Silence stretched between us again, but it wasn’t empty.
It was heavy.
Like something was building, and neither of us knew how to stop it anymore.
Then he said, quieter this time.
“You ever done anything like this before?”
My head snapped up.
“Like what?”
A small pause.
“Like thinking about a guy this way.”
There it was.
Out in the open.
I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.
“That’s a big assumption.”
“Is it wrong?”
I hesitated.
Too long again.
He noticed.
“Okay.”
He murmured, almost to himself.
“So it’s not.”
I ran a hand over my face, letting out a shaky breath.
“I don’t know what this is.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then maybe we should just” I gestured vaguely toward the door.
“Call it a night.”
I started to shift, like I was actually going to stand up.
But then, his hand caught my wriSt. Not forceful.
Just enough to stop me.
And that tiny contact sent this stupid electric jolt straight through me.
“Wait.”
He said.
I froze.
Slowly looked back at him.
His expression had changed again.
Less confident now.
More uncertain.
Which for Oliver was rare.
“Don’t go yet.”
He added, quieter.
That should have been my second warning.
I should have pulled away.
I didn’t.
“Why?”
I asked, my voice lower than before.
He didn’t answer immediately.
His thumb shifted slightly against my wrist, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
“Because if you leave right now” He said, finally.
“We’re both just going to pretend this didn’t happen.
And maybe we should.
Do you actually want to?”
That question sat between us.
Simple.
Dangerous.
I searched for the right answer, the safe one.
But what came out instead was No.
His grip on my wrist tightened just slightly.
Not enough to hurt.
Just enough to feel.
Yeah.
He murmured.
Me, neither.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then slowly, he let go.
But instead of pulling back, his hand stayed there, hovering for just a moment before settling lightly against mine.
Not grabbing.
Just there.
Like he was giving me the chance to pull away.
I didn’t.
And that was it.
That was the exact moment everything tipped past the point of no return.
Because the second he realized I wasn’t moving, he shifted closer.
Our shoulders touched.
Then fully pressed.
My breath hitched slightly, and I hated that he probably noticed.
You’re shaking.
He said quietly.
I’m not.
You are.
I’m fine.
He didn’t argue.
Just stayed there.
Close enough that I could feel the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
Patrick.
He said softer than before.
Yeah?
If this goes wrong, I let out a small, nervous laugh.
You already said it would.
Yeah.
A pause.
I just didn’t think we’d actually let it.
I turned my head slightly, meeting his eyes again.
We’re still letting it.
I said.
Something shifted in his expression.
Decision.
And before I could overthink it, he leaned in.
Not faSt. Not hesitant, either.
Just enough that I knew exactly what was about to happen.
And exactly how bad it might get.
He stopped just short of actually kissing me.
Like right there.
Close enough that I could feel his breath, warm and uneven against my lips.
Close [snorts] enough that if either of us moved even a little, it would happen.
But he didn’t.
Not yet.
Last chance?
He said quietly.
It wasn’t a joke.
I could tell by the way his voice dipped, by the way his eyes searched mine like he was actually giving me an out.
This is where it goes wrong.
My heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt.
You keep saying that.
Because it’s true.
Then why are you still here?
That made him pause.
And for a second, I thought maybe that would be it.
That he’d pull back, laugh it off, say we were being stupid.
Instead, he gave a small, almost breathless huff of a laugh.
Yeah, good question.
He closed the distance.
It wasn’t some perfect movie kind of kiss.
It was messy.
Hesitant for half a second, and then not at all.
Like the second it actually happened, something just snapped into place.
My brain went completely blank.
All I could register was him.
His hand coming up to my jaw, the way he pulled me just a little closer, like he needed to make sure I wasn’t going anywhere.
And I didn’t.
I kissed him back.
Which, yeah, that was the moment everything officially went off the rails.
Because once it started, neither of us slowed it down.
If anything, it got more intense way too faSt. Like all that tension from earlier just came crashing in at once.
I felt his other hand grip my shirt slightly, pulling me toward him, and I shifted without even thinking, turning more fully so we were facing each other.
The couch suddenly felt way too small.
Wait.
I muttered, but it didn’t even sound convincing.
He pulled back just enough to look at me.
His expression was different now, focused, a little wild around the edges.
Too much?
He asked.
I should have said yes.
I should have.
Instead, I shook my head.
Then don’t say wait.
He said quietly.
And yeah, that didn’t help at all.
Because a second later, we were right back to it.
Closer now.
Too close.
At some point, I lost track of where my hands were, where his were.
Just aware of the fact that this wasn’t something you could pretend didn’t happen later.
This was real.
And it was happening.
And it was [ __ ] He muttered suddenly, pulling back just enough to breathe.
I blinked, trying to catch up.
What?
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing half a step back like he needed space all of a sudden.
This is exactly what I meant.
He said, more to himself than to me.
We’re not thinking.
The shift was so abrupt it left me a little disoriented.
A second ago, he was pulling me closer like nothing else mattered.
Now he looked conflicted.
Annoyed, even.
With me?
I asked before I could stop myself.
His head snapped up.
No, no, not with you.
Then what?
He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck.
This.
The situation.
It’s just He gestured vaguely between us.
Complicated.
I let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
Yeah.
You think?
That’s not what I He stopped, jaw tightening slightly.
You know what I mean.
I did.
But I didn’t like it.
Because suddenly it felt like I’d imagined part of it.
Like I’d read too much into something that had just happened in the moment.
So what?
This was a mistake.
I asked.
His expression shifted again, frustration flickering across it.
I didn’t say that.
You didn’t have to.
Patrick.
No, seriously.
I cut in, standing up now because sitting there suddenly felt unbearable.
You were just what?
Curious?
Drunk?
Figuring stuff out?
That’s not fair.
Isn’t it?
The tension flipped.
FaSt. What had been something charged and quiet a minute ago was now sharp, edged, and I could see it in his face.
He wasn’t expecting that.
Why are you acting like I’m the only one who wanted that?
He shot back.
That hit.
Because he wasn’t wrong.
I’m not.
I said, quieter now.
I’m just trying to understand what the hell this is.
So am I.
Then say something real.
I am saying something real.
We both stopped.
The room felt different again.
Not warm anymore.
Just tight.
Oliver exhaled slowly, like he was trying to rein himself back in.
Look.
He said, calmer now.
I didn’t plan this.
You didn’t plan this.
It just happened.
Yeah.
And now we’re here.
I swallowed, nodding slightly.
Yeah.
Another pause.
Longer this time.
And heavier.
Maybe we shouldn’t have done that.
He said finally.
There it was.
The thing I’d been waiting for.
And somehow, it still landed worse than I expected.
I let out a slow breath, nodding once.
Yeah.
Maybe.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us knew what to do next.
And that’s when it really hit me.
He was right.
Everything had already gone wrong.
We didn’t talk for a solid minute after that.
Not a word.
The TV was still playing in the background, some laugh track cutting through the silence at the worst possible times.
It felt almost mocking.
I stayed standing.
He stayed near the couch.
Same room, but suddenly it felt like we were on opposite sides of something we couldn’t undo.
I should go.
I said finally.
Oliver nodded, but it was slow.
Like he didn’t actually want to agree with that.
Yeah, probably.
Neither of us moved right away.
It was stupid.
We both knew how this worked.
You say you’re leaving, you grab your stuff, you go.
But something was holding us there.
Or maybe we were both just avoiding what came after.
I grabbed my jacket off the chair, taking a little longer than necessary.
Giving him time to say something, anything, that would make this feel less final.
He didn’t.
So I headed for the door.
Hand on the handle.
Patrick.
I stopped.
Of course I did.
I didn’t turn around immediately.
Yeah?
Another pause.
I didn’t mean it like that.
I let out a quiet breath, still facing the door.
Didn’t mean what?
That it was a mistake.
I finally turned back.
He was still standing where I left him, but his posture had shifted.
Less guarded now.
More unsure.
You literally said we shouldn’t have done it.
I pointed out.
I said maybe.
He corrected.
There’s a difference.
I gave a small, tired laugh.
Not a big one.
He rubbed his face, clearly frustrated with himself more than me this time.
I’m just trying to not screw this up more than we already have.
Little late for that.
Yeah, I know.
Silence again.
But it wasn’t as sharp this time.
Just complicated.
I leaned back against the door, crossing my arms.
So what are you actually saying?
He hesitated.
And that hesitation told me everything.
You don’t know.
I said.
He didn’t argue.
Instead, he just shook his head slightly.
No.
I don’t.
At least that was honeSt. I nodded once, looking down for a second before meeting his eyes again.
Okay.
Okay?
He echoed, like he expected more.
What do you want me to say?
I asked.
You don’t know what this is.
I don’t know what this is.
We crossed a line, and now we’re stuck dealing with it.
He winced slightly at that.
When you say it like that.
How else am I supposed to say it?
He didn’t have an answer.
And honestly, neither did I.
The tension shifted again, not gone, just quieter.
Less explosive.
More real.
I meant what I said earlier.
He added after a moment.
Which part?
That I didn’t want you to leave.
That caught me off guard.
I frowned slightly.
Then why’d you act like this was a bad idea?
Because it is.
He said immediately.
Then softer.
And it isn’t.
I stared at him.
That clears nothing up.
I know.
He let out a breath, glancing away like he was trying to organize his thoughts.
I’ve never he started then stopped.
This isn’t something I’ve done before.
There it was.
Out in the open.
I felt something in my chest tighten, not surprise exactly, but confirmation.
Okay.
I said.
And I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.
He continued.
But I also don’t want to mess things up between us or with everything else.
Everything else?
I repeated.
Friends, people we know, all that.
He clarified.
You know how it is.
Yeah.
I did.
That part wasn’t complicated.
The complicated part was standing here, still feeling the echo of what just happened while he was trying to put it neatly into a box that made sense.
So, what are you suggesting?
I asked.
He looked at me again, steady this time.
I’m saying maybe we don’t decide anything tonight.
I raised an eyebrow.
That sounds like avoidance.
Maybe it is.
He admitted.
But rushing it clearly didn’t go great either.
Fair.
Annoying, but fair.
I exhaled slowly, thinking it over.
Part of me wanted something clear.
A yes, a no, a this meant something or it didn’t.
But that wasn’t what this was.
Not yet.
All right.
I said finally.
All right?
He echoed again.
Yeah.
We don’t decide anything tonight.
Something in his expression eased slightly.
Not relief exactly, but close.
Okay.
Another pause.
Softer this time.
So, you’re still leaving?
He asked.
I glanced at the door, then back at him.
Yeah.
I said.
I think we both need that.
He nodded.
Yeah.
But neither of us moved again.
And for a second, I thought maybe one of us would say something stupid or honest or reckless enough to tip everything all over again.
But we didn’t.
This time, we stopped it.
Just barely.
I opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air.
It hit me fast, clearing my head in a way the last hour hadn’t.
Patrick.
He called one more time.
I looked back.
Yeah?
He hesitated.
Then quieter.
Text me when you get home.
I held his gaze for a second.
Yeah.
I said.
I will.
And then I left.
But the worst part?
It didn’t feel over.
Not even close.
The walk home felt longer than usual.
Not because it actually was but because my head wouldn’t shut up.
Every step, every second, it just kept replaying.
The couch.
The way he said my name.
The kiss.
The way it shifted right after, like we both suddenly realized what we’d done at the exact same time.
And then that last look before I left.
I pulled my jacket tighter around me, exhaling slowly as I walked.
The night air helped a little, but not enough.
By the time I got home, I still didn’t have a single clear thought about any of it.
Just noise.
I dropped my keys on the counter and stood there for a second, staring at nothing.
Then my phone buzzed.
Oliver.
Of course.
Oliver, you make it back?
I let out a quiet breath, running a hand through my hair before typing back.
Me, yeah.
Just got in.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Then disappeared.
Then came back again.
I frowned slightly.
Watching it happen like it meant something.
Finally.
Oliver, good.
That was it.
I stared at the screen, half expecting more.
Nothing came.
I typed something.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Me, you good?
This time, the reply took longer.
Long enough that I started pacing without realizing it.
Oliver, yeah.
Just thinking.
I huffed quietly.
Same, I almost wrote, but stopped.
Because that felt too simple for what this was.
Instead.
Me, about?
There was a longer pause this time.
Oliver, us.
I guess.
That word hit differently now.
Us.
Like there was suddenly something to define.
I sat down on the edge of my bed, staring at the message.
Me, and?
I didn’t even know what I wanted him to say.
Something clear, maybe.
Something that made this feel less like we just opened a door either of us knew how to walk through.
His reply came slower this time.
Oliver, I meant what I said.
I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.
I nodded to myself slightly.
That part, at least, was consistent.
Me, okay.
Another pause.
Then.
Oliver.
But I also don’t know what it means.
I let out a quiet laugh under my breath.
Yeah.
Same.
Me, yeah.
I got that part.
A few seconds passed.
Then.
Oliver, does that bother you?
I stared at that question longer than I should have.
Because the honest answer?
Yeah.
A little.
But not for the reasons I expected.
It wasn’t that I needed everything figured out.
It was that I didn’t like how easily it could have meant nothing to him.
I thought about lying.
Keeping it simple.
But instead.
Me, a bit.
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Oliver, why?
I exhaled slowly, leaning back on my hands.
How do you even explain that without making it heavier than it already is?
I went with the simplest version.
Me, because it didn’t feel like nothing.
There.
Sent.
No taking it back now.
The pause that followed felt different.
Longer.
Heavier.
Like he was actually thinking about what I said instead of just reacting.
Finally.
Oliver, yeah, it didn’t.
My chest tightened slightly.
Not in a bad way.
Just real.
Oliver, that’s kind of the problem.
I frowned.
Me, how is that a problem?
Oliver, because if it was nothing, it’d be easy.
I leaned back fully onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
He wasn’t wrong.
That was the worst part.
Me, easy’s overrated.
His reply came quicker this time.
Oliver, not when things can get messy.
I smirked slightly, even though he couldn’t see it.
Me, pretty sure we passed messy already.
That got a small delay.
Then.
Oliver, yeah, fair.
Another pause.
But this one didn’t feel as tense.
Just quieter.
Like we were both settling into whatever this was.
Then his next message came through.
Oliver, can I ask you something?
I hesitated for half a second.
Me, depends.
Oliver, be honeSt. I sighed softly.
That usually meant it wasn’t going to be a simple question.
Me, all right.
Oliver, if I hadn’t stopped earlier, would you have?
I froze.
Completely.
Because I already knew the answer.
And I didn’t like how quickly it came to me.
I stared at my phone, thumbs hovering over the screen.
Honest, he said.
Right.
I swallowed.
Then typed.
Me, no.
Sent.
And just like that everything felt like it shifted again.
The typing bubble showed up almost instantly.
Then disappeared.
Then came back again.
I could practically feel him staring at his phone the same way I was, reading that one word over and over.
No.
No hesitation.
No excuse.
No way to soften it.
Just the truth.
A full minute passed.
Then two.
I almost thought he wasn’t going to respond at all.
Oliver, okay.
That was it.
Just okay.
I sat up a little, frowning at the screen.
That wasn’t what I expected.
Me, that’s all you’re going to say?
This time he replied quicker.
Oliver, I don’t know what you want me to say to that, Patrick.
Fair.
Still frustrating.
Me, I don’t know either.
Oliver, because same.
My chest tightened again.
I leaned back against the wall, phone still in my hand.
Me, so what does that mean?
The dots appeared, stayed, disappeared, came back again.
Oliver, it means I didn’t want to stop either.
I swallowed, hard.
There it was, out in the open.
No dancing around it this time.
For a second, I just stared at the message, reading it again like it might change.
It didn’t.
Me, then why did you?
This time, there wasn’t much of a delay.
Oliver, because I freaked out.
I blinked.
That wasn’t what I expected him to admit.
Oliver, and because I knew if we didn’t stop then, we wouldn’t at all.
I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down my face.
Yeah.
He was probably right.
That didn’t make it easier.
Me, and that would have been a bad thing?
Oliver, I don’t know.
There it was again, that same answer.
Honest, but incomplete.
I let out a quiet, frustrated breath.
Me, you say that a lot.
Oliver, because it’s true.
I shook my head slightly, even though he couldn’t see it.
Me, yeah, but it’s also an easy answer.
Oliver, you want me to lie instead?
That made me stop.
Because no, I didn’t.
Me, no.
Another pause.
Then his next message came through, slower.
Oliver, I just haven’t thought about any of this before.
Not like this.
I stared at that.
Tried to read between the lines.
Tried to figure out where I fit into that sentence.
Me, and now you are.
Oliver, yeah.
A beat.
Oliver, because of you.
That hit differently.
Not heavy exactly, but it landed.
I shifted slightly, sitting up straighter without realizing it.
Me, that a good thing or a bad thing?
His reply took longer this time.
When it came, it was just Oliver, I don’t know yet.
I let out a small laugh under my breath.
Of course.
But weirdly, it didn’t bother me as much this time.
Maybe because it felt more real now.
Less like he was avoiding it.
More like he was actually trying to figure it out.
Me, at least you’re consistent.
Oliver, yeah, I’m great like that.
I smirked slightly.
That felt normal, familiar, which was strange considering everything else.
Oliver, are you okay?
I blinked at that.
Me, with?
Oliver, all of this.
I thought about it for a second.
The kiss, the argument, the way we left things, the fact that I was still sitting here, heart not fully settled.
Me, yeah?
I hesitated, then added, Me, just not used to it.
Oliver, me either.
Another pause.
But it didn’t feel awkward this time.
Just quiet.
Oliver, what are you doing tomorrow?
I raised an eyebrow slightly.
That felt like a shift.
A small one, but still.
Me, nothing planned.
Why?
Oliver, I don’t think we should just leave it like this.
My chest tightened again.
Not in a bad way.
Just anticipation.
Me, like what?
His reply came quicker this time.
Oliver, like a weird, unfinished thing.
I huffed out a quiet laugh.
Accurate, I muttered to myself.
Me, so what are you suggesting?
There was only a brief pause before Oliver, come over tomorrow.
I stared at the message, heart picking up again.
Me, that sounds like a bad idea.
Almost immediately, Oliver, probably.
Oliver, but so was tonight.
I couldn’t help it.
I smiled a little, because he wasn’t wrong.
Again.
Me, and look how that went.
Oliver, yeah.
Oliver, still want you to come.
That did it.
That was the moment something shifted again.
Because this time, it wasn’t accidental.
It wasn’t heat of the moment.
It was a choice.
I stared at the screen for a few seconds, thinking, overthinking, then finally, Me, all right.
Sent.
And just like that, we were doing this again.
Except this time, we both knew exactly how wrong it could go.
I barely slept.
Not because I couldn’t, but because every time I closed my eyes, my brain just replayed everything again.
The couch, his voice, that come over tomorrow.
It didn’t feel like a suggestion anymore.
It felt like something we’d already decided.
By the time morning came, I was already awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what exactly I was walking into.
Because this time, there was no excuse.
No party.
No alcohol to blame.
Just me showing up, knowing exactly what could happen.
I checked my phone.
No new messages.
For some reason, that made it worse.
Like the silence meant he was thinking just as much as I was.
Or overthinking.
Or maybe not thinking at all.
I got up, got dressed, tried to keep things normal.
Coffee, quick shower, the usual routine.
But everything felt slightly off, like I was just going through the motions.
By the time I stepped outside, my heart was already beating faster than it should have been.
The walk to his place felt shorter this time.
Or maybe I just didn’t notice it.
Because my head was too busy running through every possible version of how this could go.
Awkward.
Casual.
Like last night didn’t matter.
Or not that.
I stopped outside his door.
Stared at it for a second.
This is stupid, I muttered under my breath, then knocked anyway.
A few seconds passed, then the door opened.
Oliver stood there, looking exactly like himself, which somehow made everything feel even more unreal.
Hey, he said.
Hey.
We just stood there for a second, same as last night.
Different context.
Way more awareness.
You actually came, he added.
I raised an eyebrow.
You told me to.
Yeah, I know.
Just He stepped back, letting me in.
Didn’t think you would.
I walked past him into the apartment, glancing around.
It looked the same as always.
Normal.
Like nothing had happened here just hours ago.
Why wouldn’t I?
I asked.
He shut the door behind me.
Because it’s complicated.
There’s that word again.
He huffed a quiet laugh.
Yeah.
We moved into the living room, both of us hovering instead of sitting right away.
That same couch was right there, and we both noticed.
You want something to drink?
He asked, a little too quickly.
Sure.
He disappeared into the kitchen for a second, giving both of us a moment to breathe.
I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair.
This felt different already.
Less chaotic.
More deliberate.
Which, honestly, made it worse.
He came back with two glasses, handing me one before sitting down.
Not too close this time.
I sat on the other end of the couch, leaving space between us.
For now.
So, he said, leaning forward slightly, elbows on his knees.
This is less dramatic than last night.
Give it time, I replied.
That got a small smile out of him.
Then silence.
Not awkward exactly, just loaded.
We should probably talk, he said.
Yeah.
Another pause.
Then he glanced at me.
You want to start, or should I?
I shrugged.
You invited me.
Fair.
He leaned back slightly, exhaling.
Okay.
I’ve been thinking.
Shocking.
Yeah, yeah, he muttered, but there was a faint smirk there.
Then it faded.
I meant what I said.
I don’t want to ignore what happened.
I know, but I also don’t want to rush into something I don’t understand.
I nodded slowly.
Also know that.
He studied my face for a second.
You seem calmer about it today.
I’ve had time to process.
And?
I hesitated, because the honest answer wasn’t simple.
I still don’t think it was nothing, I said finally.
Something in his expression shifted at that.
Not surprise.
More like acknowledgement.
Yeah, he said quietly.
Same.
So, what do we do with that?
I asked.
He leaned back, running a hand through his hair.
That’s the part one don’t have a clear answer for.
Of course you don’t.
Hey.
He said, glancing at me.
You don’t either.
Yeah, but I’m not pretending I do.
I’m not pretending.
I raised an eyebrow.
He sighed.
Okay, maybe a little.
That got a small laugh out of me.
Which helped.
A bit.
Then he shifted slightly, turning more toward me.
Can I ask you something?
He said.
Depends if you’re going to say be honest again.
A faint smile.
I am.
Figures.
I exhaled.
Go ahead.
He held my gaze for a second.
When I kissed you, did it feel wrong?
The question landed heavier than I expected.
Not because I didn’t know the answer.
But because of how easily it came.
No.
I said.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
His eyes flickered slightly at that.
Yeah.
He murmured.
That’s what I was afraid of.
I frowned.
Why would that be a bad thing?
He didn’t answer right away.
Just looked at me.
Because it didn’t feel wrong for me either.
And just like that.
We were right back on that edge again.
For a second, either of us said anything after that.
It just sat there.
Heavy, real, impossible to ignore now.
Because that had been the last excuse, right?
The maybe it was just a mistake.
The maybe it didn’t mean anything.
Gone.
I leaned back slightly, exhaling.
So, we’re both in the same problem.
He let out a quiet, almost amused breath.
Yeah.
Pretty much.
Great.
Yeah.
Fantastic.
That got a small smile out of both of us.
But it didn’t last long.
Because the tension didn’t go anywhere.
If anything, it got sharper.
More focused.
This wasn’t confusion anymore.
It was awareness.
So, what now?
I asked again, quieter this time.
He didn’t look away when I said it.
Didn’t hesitate as long either.
I think he started slowly.
We stop pretending this is just some random thing that happened.
Okay.
And we figure out if it’s something we actually want.
My chest tightened slightly at that.
Together?
I asked.
Yeah.
That word felt bigger than it should have.
Simple, but not I studied him for a second, trying to read between the lines again.
But this time, there wasn’t as much to guess.
He wasn’t certain.
But he wasn’t pulling away anymore either.
All right.
I said finally.
He nodded once, like that was enough to move forward.
And then nothing.
We just sat there again.
Same couch.
Same space between us.
Except now it felt intentional.
Like we were both aware of it.
Choosing it.
For now.
You know what’s funny?
He said after a moment.
What?
If someone walked in right now, they’d have no idea what’s going on.
I huffed.
Yeah.
We look normal.
Do we?
I glanced at him.
We’re sitting on opposite ends of a couch talking.
That’s pretty normal.
He tilted his head slightly.
You sure that’s what this is?
I didn’t answer.
Because it wasn’t.
Not really.
And he knew it.
There was a small pause.
Then he shifted.
Not all the way closer.
Just a little.
Enough that the space between us wasn’t as safe anymore.
I felt it immediately.
That same pull from last night.
Stronger now somehow.
Still feel like a bad idea?
I asked quietly.
He let out a slow breath, eyes flicking down for a second before coming back to mine.
Yeah.
A beat.
Still want to do it anyway.
Another pause.
Shorter this time.
Yeah.
That was it.
No overthinking.
No stopping it halfway this time.
Just honesty.
And somehow, that made it feel even more dangerous.
I shifted slightly, too, closing the distance just enough that our knees touched again.
Neither of us pulled back.
You’re going to overthink this again?
I asked.
He shook his head slowly.
Not this time.
And for once I believed him.
There wasn’t some big, dramatic moment after that.
No rush.
No sudden move.
Just a quiet decision.
Mutual.
Unspoken, but clear.
We weren’t going to pretend this didn’t happen.
We weren’t going to force it into something it wasn’t either.
We were just going to see where it went.
Even if it got messy.
Even if it went wrong.
Especially because it already had.
And weirdly that made it feel more real than anything else.
Oliver leaned back slightly, exhaling as if something had finally settled in him.
Guess we’ll figure it out.
He said.
Yeah.
I replied.
I glanced at him one more time.
A small, almost disbelieving smile pulling at my lips.
Together.
He nodded.
And this time neither of us looked away.
