Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The bar was dark in patches and aggressively bright in others, as if the lighting had been installed by someone who had no idea what they were doing. Exposed brick, scuffed wooden floors, ceiling painted black that didn’t quite hide the wiring. It called itself rustic, meaning it hadn't been renovated in years.

The music relied on old rock remixes, loud enough to make conversation inconvenient but not impossible. People packed the space shoulder to shoulder, leaning in close, shouting into each other’s ears with the easy familiarity of regulars. Glasses clinked. Someone laughed too loudly near the bar. It smelled like beer and too many bodies in too little space.

Most importantly, it was close to Andrew's apartment.

He stared at the whiskey in his hand, the glass reflecting the light of the bar with every turn of his wrist. Everything seemed hazy and slightly smudged, as if one step removed from reality.

His eyes welcomed the change after straining all day, staring at his bright laptop screen and grading uncreative student papers. His pounding headache was probably a sign that a quiet evening would’ve been healthier but he had decided that stopping the spiraling thoughts in his head was more important.

He rubbed at his tired eyes and let out a long breath, feeling his heart drag in his chest, defying the relentless soundtrack around him.

His glass was filled with too much ice, the oversized cubes clinking dully against the glass. He hadn’t been here long enough for them to melt into surrender. Long enough for the music to do its job, though, shoving his thoughts into a corner and sitting on them.

From somewhere deeper in the bar came a burst of cheering. Andrew glanced over his shoulder and clocked a dartboard at the back, a small group of people crowded around it, drinks raised, voices loud with competition and alcohol. Someone whooped. Someone else protested loudly.

Andrew turned back to the bar and took a sip. It tasted like water and the sting of cheap alcohol.

He was debating if he should call it a night—

When he saw him.

The guy was sitting further down the bar, closer to the center, perched on a stool like he’d stopped there by accident and never quite corrected course. Dark hair, threaded through with bright copper where the bar’s low bulbs hit it just right. Shorter at the sides, grown out on top into a tempting mess of curls. 

Andrew watched him for longer than was polite. Then longer than was subtle.

There was a bottle in front of the guy, something non-alcoholic by the look of it, condensation long gone. Forgotten. The guy wasn’t drinking it. He had both hands around his phone instead, thumbs moving with intense focus, shoulders drawn in slightly as if the rest of the room had receded into irrelevance.

Andrew’s gaze dragged, slow and unapologetic, taking in the furrowed brows from concentration. Straight nose. Pretty mouth. His eyes lingered a few seconds longer before moving on.

The guy’s build was lean but his shoulders were tense. Like he was waiting for something to happen.

Interesting.

Andrew shifted his weight against the bar, angling himself to keep the guy in view. The cheering from the dartboard rose again, laughter breaking over it. The guy didn’t look back. Didn’t look anywhere but his phone.

Andrew took another sip of whiskey and let his eyes wander, cataloguing. Didn’t look to be much taller than Andrew. Good. Seemed fit. Also good.

He generously ignored the washed out shirt and clashing flannel, the pattern too atrocious to not be intentionally ugly. The clothes didn’t matter. Not for much longer, anyway.

He imagined, briefly, what it would feel like to have that hair under his hands. How the curls would wrap around his fingers. Whether the guy would make noise when taken apart or go quiet and intense.

He decided it was time to find out.

Andrew had chosen his spot deliberately when he’d come in, back to the wall, sightline over the whole room. Now he straightened, picked up his glass, and walked over to the guy.

He had to squeeze past a couple pressed close together, someone’s elbow digging briefly into his side. He stepped around a cluster of empty stools, the music thudding through the soles of his boots. He slowed as he got closer, expecting the guy to look up at any second.

He didn’t.

Andrew stopped right beside him.

Nothing.

The guy was still typing, lips moving soundlessly as if he was workshopping something important. Andrew waited. Counted to three. Then five.

Still nothing.

That was new.

Andrew narrowed his eyes slightly and set his glass down on the bar with more force than strictly necessary. Ice clinked in protest.

The guy startled, shoulders jumping. He looked up, confused, blinking as if he’d been pulled out of a different realm entirely.

And then Andrew’s brain stalled.

The guy’s eyes were bright blue. Wide. Catching the bar lights and reflecting them back like they’d been made for it.

Andrew stared, momentarily speechless, and thought distantly that this was unfair. The whole face was unfair, really.

“—yes?” the guy said, after a beat. His voice was warm, curious. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Andrew said automatically, still caught on the wrong side of those eyes. Then he blinked, focus snapping back into place. Up close now, he let his gaze flick over the guy in a quick, unashamed sweep — the curve of his mouth, the line of his jaw, the unruly curls falling into his eyes — before settling back on the blue that had stalled him in the first place. One corner of his mouth lifted, sharp and deliberate. “You can.”

The responding smile was slow and easy, like the guy had liked that answer. He didn’t look away. Didn’t even pretend to. He just watched Andrew, eyes bright in the low light, attention locked in. His eyebrows lifted a fraction.

“Okay?” he said, voice low, the single word hanging between them, open and curious.

Andrew leaned an elbow against the bar, casual, letting the line of his arm flex as he shifted closer. The space between them narrowed without either of them acknowledging it. He usually preferred things fast — a quick exchange, the bar’s bathroom — but his headache had lifted and his pulse had finally woken up from its sluggish drag. Somewhere between the guy’s messy curls and his too-pretty eyes, Andrew decided he didn’t mind drawing this out a little.

The guy reached past him for his bottle, brushing Andrew’s arm as he pulled it closer. The contact against his bicep lingered a beat longer than necessary before he settled back again, eyes lifting straight to Andrew’s face.

Heat sparked low in Andrew’s gut. He kept his expression neutral, hummed quietly in his throat, and didn’t say anything else.

The guy nodded, slow and thoughtful, like he was weighing options. Like he was deciding how far he wanted to take this.

Andrew waited. One beat. Then another. The air between them felt thick, syrupy, like he could reach out and pull it apart with sticky fingers.

“What’s it gonna be?” Andrew asked finally, eyes still locked on his.

The guy’s lips parted. His gaze dipped briefly to Andrew’s mouth before lifting again.

“You tell me.”

Hook. Line. Sink.

Andrew tilted his head, already sorting logistics. The bathroom would be quick, but something about this made him want to take his time. His apartment it was.

The music thudded around them, bodies pressing close, but the guy didn’t look anywhere else.

“Sure,” Andrew said, because the night wasn’t going to move itself along, “we could—”

A roar of cheering burst from the back of the room, cutting cleanly through the music. The guy startled, turning his head toward the noise.

“Sorry,” he said, wincing faintly. “My friends get rowdy when they’re drunk.”

“Rowdy,” Andrew repeated, letting the word trail off as he raised an eyebrow. “Not your thing?”

The guy leaned closer. “Not really.”

“That’s fine,” Andrew said easily, filing it away. He wasn’t in the mood to wreck his bed tonight anyway. This felt like something else. Slower. Less… chaotic.

The smile returned to the guy’s pretty mouth before stretching into the widest, most theatrical yawn Andrew had seen in a long while, his hand only barely managing to cover it.

Taking the hint, Andrew jerked his chin toward the door. “Let’s get some fresh air.”

“Yeah.” The guy nodded immediately. “That sounds good.”

He slid off the stool, landing close enough that their chests brushed. The few inches of height between them vanished into nothing. He looked at Andrew intently.

“Sorry,” he said softly.

Andrew didn’t move away.

“Don’t be,” he said, holding the eye contact a beat longer before placing a hand on the guy’s lower back, guiding him through the crowd toward the exit.

Stepping outside, the door swung shut behind them, and the night rushed in. Cold January air hit them full in the face, sharp and immediate, cutting through warmth on contact. The guy shivered instantly, shoulders drawing up as he exhaled a quiet breath that fogged in front of him.

Andrew watched him for a second, lifting an eyebrow. “Let me guess,” he said finally, turning in the direction of his apartment. “The ugly flannel was supposed to scare the cold away.”

The guy laughed, low and warm, the sound carrying in the open space of the street. “Guess I’ll have to try harder next time,” he said, still smiling.

Andrew’s gaze lingered. Then, casually, he nodded down the street. “My apartment’s just there.”

“Oh.” The guy looked surprised like he’d been expecting an Uber ride instead, his eyes following the gesture before returning to Andrew with clear interest. “Nice.”

“You’ll be warm in no time,” Andrew added, voice easy, threaded with promise.

The guy looked pleased. “Sounds good.”

He fell into step beside Andrew without another word.

“I’m Neil, by the way,” he said after a beat.

“Andrew.”

Their eyes met. Andrew let one of his brows lift, holding the look just a moment longer than necessary. Neil answered with another one of those pretty smiles.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, thick with anticipation. Their shoulders brushed every few steps. Neither of them moved away.

Andrew’s building was only a few blocks from the bar. Concrete and glass softened by the glow of streetlights. The lobby was quiet, the old elevator already waiting, like it had been expecting them.

Andrew held the door and let Neil step in first. He reached past him to press the button for the third floor, then took his place close at Neil’s side, crowding him just enough to be unmistakable. The doors slid shut with a dull clank.

Neil blinked at him, the blue even more intense in the fluorescent light of the elevator. Andrew could now make out the dark red of his hair, instead of the brown he had assumed at the bar. He watched Neil settle back against the wall, comfortable, their shoulders still touching. Andrew caught a clean, faintly sweet scent, something like citrus mixed with fresh laundry, and his thoughts derailed briefly. 

There would be time to explore later.

The elevator shuddered and began its slow climb. Andrew wouldn’t have minded starting right there, boxed in by steel and hum and heat, but patience wasn’t difficult when his apartment was this close.

The doors opened with a tired groan. Andrew stepped out first and led the way down the short hall, around the corner, to his apartment. Neil followed close, close enough that Andrew could feel the warmth of him at his back.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open, turning just enough that his arm brushed Neil’s chest as he stepped backward inside. Their eyes locked. Andrew reached behind him to flick on the hallway light, then lifted his other hand, fingers already curling to pull Neil in—

A loud crash startled both of them out of the moment.

Andrew turned just in time to see both of his cats tearing down the hallway, skidding across the hardwood floor and disappearing through the gap of the open bedroom door in a blur of fur and chaos.

Andrew closed his eyes and took a slow breath.

Patience. He had it. Somewhere. Probably.

Behind him, Neil’s voice floated through the hallway, bright with unmistakable interest. “You have cats?”

He didn’t sound annoyed. Andrew took that as a good sign. He exhaled through his nose. The mood, at least, was not dead.

“No,” he said finally, stepping further into the apartment. “Just two demons pretending to be cats.”

He debated, briefly, whether he should redirect them to the living room couch. The thought died quickly. The couch sat directly opposite the cat tree and right in front of the big windows, and Andrew had no intention of performing for either his cats or the neighbors across the street.

Instead, he pointed toward the living room. “Give me a minute while I collect them.”

Neil’s response came easily, already moving past him. “Sure, no worries.”

Andrew flicked on the bedroom light and stepped inside, scanning the room. The bed loomed suspiciously still. If he were a betting man, and he was, he would say Sir and King were underneath it, pressed flat against the floor.

He heard lights click on in the apartment while he was still deciding whether he could chase them out or if he’d need food to bribe them.

A faint, “Uh, Andrew?” came from the living room.

Andrew went down on his knees and peered under the bed. Two sets of eyes stared back at him, luminous and unrepentant.

“Do you have a dustpan?”

That made Andrew pause.

Slowly, he crawled back out and stood, dread pooling in his stomach. He walked into the living room and stopped short.

Two of his potted plants had been tipped over, ceramic shattered, soil spread generously across the floor. Dirt smeared the carpet where small, enthusiastic paws had trampled it in every direction.

Andrew blinked.

He took in the scene in silence. Calculated the damage. Considered whether Sir and King could hurt themselves if he left it overnight. Considered whether Neil would mind doing it in the bedroom with the cats still under the bed. Considered whether he would mind doing it on the bed with the cats still under the bed.

He did mind. Unfortunately.

Okay. Plan B. He’d tell Neil to wait in the hallway, lure the cats out, lock them in the kitchen. Or the bathroom. Somewhere with the litter box. Yes. That—

“Or a vacuum?” Neil offered helpfully. “Although it might be a bit late for that.”

Andrew stared at him. “What?”

“To clean this up?”

“Just leave it,” Andrew said quickly. “Give me a minute to get the cats. You can wait in the hallway. Ignore this.” He gestured vaguely at the destruction.

Food. He definitely needed food.

“It’s fine,” Neil said easily, already crouching down. “My friend Matt is really clumsy. He’s tipped over so many plants and broken so many plates, I’m basically a pro at this.”

Andrew watched, stunned, as Neil began gathering ceramic shards into a neat pile, completely unfazed.

“He’s also no longer allowed to touch basically anything that could break,” Neil continued. “We gave him plastic plates as a joke one year. He still has them. Makes you wonder, is it still a joke gift if we’re all using them?”

Something in Andrew’s brain finally kicked back into gear.

He fetched the dustpan. Before he could say a word, Neil took it from his hands and got to work. Andrew hesitated, then decided not to interfere. If Neil was determined to eliminate the hazard standing between them and getting back on track, Andrew wasn’t about to stop him.

He gathered the uprooted plants and set them into two baking bowls, the closest thing he had to a temporary solution, then added the recovered soil. He stabilized them with books, making sure they wouldn’t tip over again.

By the time he looked up, Neil had moved on to the carpet, brushing dirt out with impressive efficiency. Andrew retrieved the carpet cleaner and finished the job, rubbing until no trace remained.

Twenty minutes later, the apartment was clean. The tools were put away. Hands were washed.

Andrew turned to Neil.

“Thank you,” he said. “That wasn’t necessary.”

Neil shrugged, relaxed. “Don’t worry about it.”

Andrew took that in. A hot guy willing to clean a stranger’s living room to get laid? He wasn’t going to argue with that.

Looking around them, he scanned for his cats. None in sight. He was about to say he’d go get them so they could finally move on when Neil turned toward him.

“Well,” he started, slipping his phone into his back pocket, “this has been fun.”

Andrew frowned. “Fun?”

“Yeah.” Neil smiled, easy and genuine. “I should go. My friends texted, they’re finally ready to leave the bar.”

Andrew stared.

Right. Of course. Crawling around on the floor and smelling like carpet cleaner was probably not very seductive. He let out a long breath, let his shoulders sag in defeat. His headache had crept back in anyway, and he probably should check on Sir and King.

Still. A shame. Neil was really hot.

“Do you want to exchange numbers?” Neil asked.

Andrew blinked. He didn’t usually see guys twice. But since they hadn’t actually gotten to the hookup part, Neil wanting to try again felt like a good thing.

“Sure,” Andrew said after a moment. “Why not.”

After Neil had left, Andrew stood alone in his living room, a new contact saved in his phone. King emerged at last, meowing all the way to the cat tree where she rolled up into a donut, harrumphing as if Andrew had disturbed her evening.

Staring at her, then at the two wobbly plants in their baking bowls, Andrew tried to understand what, exactly, had just happened.

Andrew woke up the next day with a renewed headache and a problem.

He lay there for a moment longer, staring at the ceiling, replaying the night in pieces. The bar. The cats. The plants. Neil on his knees on Andrew’s living room floor, carefully collecting shards of ceramic like this was a perfectly reasonable way to spend a Saturday night.

He wasn’t usually the kind of guy who bootycalled. He also wasn’t the kind of guy who would exchange numbers with someone he picked up at a bar.

But Neil had been hot, and he’d insisted on helping clean.

So who was Andrew to refuse.

He took an ibuprofen on an empty stomach and accepted that today was going to be slow and vaguely punishing. His body felt wrong, like it hadn’t quite finished rebooting. Too heavy in some places, too hollow in others. He moved through the motions of getting ready on autopilot, pulling on jeans, then a thick sweater that smelled faintly of detergent and winter.

He kept thinking about the number saved in his phone.

It was Sunday. He had an early lecture the next morning which ruled out a late night anyway. So he tried to push Neil and his phone number to the back of his mind. 

Instead, he pulled on his jacket and scarf, and headed out into the cold to meet up with his friend Renee. 

Their book club had been a fixture for years. Both of them were PhD students, drowning daily in recursive arguments by scholars who loved the sound of their own certainty. At some point they’d realized that if they didn’t force themselves, they’d stop reading books that weren’t peer-reviewed or actively hostile.

So Renee came up with the idea of joining a book club. Andrew, in turn, didn't really have a choice.

The current book was The Order of Time, which Andrew had decided to hate purely out of spite. All week he’d been workshopping the most inflammatory interpretation he could justify, just to watch Melanie, the self-appointed organizer, grind her teeth.

Small joys.

The restaurant was already busy when Andrew arrived, windows fogged over, the hum of voices spilling out onto the street. Renee was waiting outside by the door, bundled in a scarf that made her look softer than she was.

“Hi, Andrew,” she said.

He nodded.

“You look nice today,” Renee added, eyes flicking over him with practiced ease. “More relaxed. Did you finally figure out the testing parameters for your Titan model?”

Andrew blinked at her. “I took a hot guy home last night.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Ah,” she said thoughtfully. “That’s good too, I suppose.”

Her smile was gentle, disappointingly sincere.

Andrew rolled his eyes and reached for the door. “Yeah. We were on our knees in record time.”

Renee paused, eyebrows climbing as they stepped inside.

Sighing, Andrew clarified, “The cats knocked over some plants.” They unwound scarves and coats, moving toward the back of the room. “He insisted on helping me clean it up. It was… weird.”

“That sounds very nice of him.”

Andrew snorted. “Yeah. Anyway. He left after. Guess cleaning didn’t do it for him.”

“Shame.”

“He gave me his number.”

That made Renee stop.

“Oh,” she said quietly. “That’s new.” She glanced at him, eyes sharp now. “You’re going to text him?”

Andrew lifted one shoulder, noncommittal. “I don’t know.”

“I think you should.”

She smiled again. That knowing, infuriating one that suggested she saw something Andrew was missing.

“Maybe,” he said, shrugging again.

They reached the table just as the rest of the group was settling in. Melanie spotted Andrew and groaned audibly.

Andrew raised two fingers in a lazy salute.

Sitting down, his phone felt heavy in his pocket.

Maybe he should text him.

By Thursday, Andrew accepted that yes, Neil had in fact been hot enough to justify texting him.

Andrew: It’s Andrew. You free tonight?

When more than five minutes passed without a response, Andrew stared at his phone and considered the possibility that Neil had given him a fake number. It shouldn’t even surprise him. People did that all the time. 

He told himself he wouldn’t care.

Just then, his phone took mercy on him and buzzed.

Neil: Andrew! Hi! How are the cats and plants?

Andrew frowned at the screen. Bootycalls did not require a wellness check.

Andrew: Fine. About tonight?

Neil: No plans 🙂 Do you want to meet?

Andrew nodded to himself, satisfied that this had been the right decision.

Andrew: My place, 9pm?

Neil: Sounds good, see you then!

Andrew set his phone down on the counter and stayed there for a moment, hands braced against the cool surface, staring at nothing in particular.

Then he turned toward the kitchen.

First, he fed King and Sir, bowls set down in their usual places. He stayed where he was, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, watching them closely. Experience had taught him that if he didn’t, King would absolutely try to steal Sir’s food.

They ate like they’d been starved for days. King in particular, making loud, enthusiastic half-meowing, half-growling noises between bites. When her bowl was empty, she sat back and licked her mouth, satisfied.

Sir wandered off toward the living room, mission complete. King stayed behind, watching Andrew with focused interest as he rinsed the bowls, wiped the counter, and set everything neatly in the drying rack.

Next, he figured he should probably feed himself. Opening the fridge, he pulled out some leftover pasta and heated it in the microwave. He ate it standing at the counter at first, then moved to the kitchen table. The pasta was still half cold in the middle, but he didn’t bother fixing it. King hopped up onto the table beside him and lay down, chin resting near his plate, eyes tracking every movement of his fork.

He reached out and scratched behind her ears absently while he ate. She leaned into it, purring faintly.

After that, there was nothing left to do but wait, and that was worse.

He checked his phone. No new messages.

He decided that was a good thing.

He showered, hot water loosening the stiffness from his shoulders. He brushed his teeth, wiped the mirror clear with his hand, frowned at his reflection when his hair refused to sit the way he wanted it to. He fixed it once. Then again. Then decided it was probably fine and went to get dressed instead.

He changed shirts twice. Then a third time, for no reason that made sense. He pulled on dark jeans, checked the mirror, adjusted his collar, stepped back. He put on aftershave, paused, then wondered if that had been unnecessary. He leaned closer to sniff and immediately felt stupid. You couldn’t smell yourself like that.

He exhaled slowly.

This was way too much effort. There was a reason he didn’t do this. He wasn’t used to waiting, to planning, to stretching things out over hours instead of minutes. Spontaneity was easier. Cleaner. This just made him restless, keyed up in a way he didn’t like.

For a brief, passing moment, he wondered if Neil was doing the same thing somewhere else — pacing, changing shirts, overthinking — or if this was just his usual mode. The thought annoyed him, and he shoved it aside.

He checked his phone again. No messages.

The apartment was quiet when he stepped back into the living room. The plants sat in their new pots by the window. Sir had reclaimed the cat tree, and King sat on the couch, watching Andrew with an expectant look, as if she was waiting for him to sit down beside her.

He checked his phone again. Then did an unnecessary loop through his apartment. Then stood uselessly in the living room.

When Neil texted that he was downstairs, Andrew felt absurdly relieved. He buzzed him in and went to stand by the open apartment door, arms by his sides, posture casual, as if the last two hours had been fine and not at all stressful.

When the elevator doors slid open down the hall and Neil stepped around the corner, something in Andrew settled. The restless edge that had been scraping at him all evening eased, his shoulders loosening.

The waiting was over. 

This, he knew.

Neil was bundled up against the cold, thick jacket zipped high, scarf wrapped around his neck, a knit hat pulled low enough that only half his face was visible. It was enough. More than enough. Andrew took him in in a single, practiced glance and felt the last of the jitter burn off.

He was even hotter than Andrew remembered.

This had definitely been the right decision.

Neil’s face lit up when he saw him, the same easy smile from the bar, like they were picking up a conversation that had only been paused. Andrew’s gaze lingered for half a second longer than necessary, already anticipating removing all those layers and the warmth underneath that awaited him.

“Hi Andr—”

The hallway fire alarm shrieked to life above them.

Both of them jumped.

Andrew’s eyes flicked around automatically. No smoke. No smell. Just the sharp, relentless scream echoing off concrete and doors. Neil was doing the same, brows knit in curiosity rather than alarm.

Their eyes met.

They both shrugged.

“What should we do?” Neil asked, voice raised over the noise.

A door down the hall cracked open. A man leaned out, hair sticking up at odd angles, eyes darting between Andrew and Neil.

“What’s going on?”

Andrew and Neil shrugged again, in unison.

That’s when sirens began to wail faintly in the distance.

Neil glanced toward the stairwell. “Are we supposed to evacuate?”

Andrew grimaced. “It’s cold outside. It’s warm in here.”

“Hm.” Nodding solemnly, Neil seemed to consider Andrew’s words. “Good point.” A pause. “And I guess it’ll get even warmer.”

Andrew lifted an eyebrow at Neil’s comment, challenge clear.

Neil returned it, grin breaking through.

“Uh,” the neighbor said, somehow still there, “I think we should evacuate?”

Footsteps echoed in the stairwell now. More doors opened. Voices overlapped.

Andrew swore under his breath. “I can’t just leave. My cats.”

Neil’s face lit up. “Of course! Let’s get them. Do you have a carrier?”

He stepped past Andrew into the apartment without hesitation, like this was already familiar territory. Andrew watched him go, the easy confidence doing things to him he didn’t have time to unpack, while the hallway alarm continued to scream above their heads.

Inside, his own fire alarm had joined in, shrieking relentlessly. Andrew pushed the door shut behind them and rubbed a hand over his face.

Neil stopped in the hallway, glancing into the living room with open curiosity instead of urgency. His gaze caught on the plants by the window.

“Ah,” he said, raising his voice slightly over the noise. “You repotted them.”

Andrew glanced over, momentarily thrown. “Yeah.”

“They look nice,” Neil added, sounding entirely sincere, as if the apartment wasn’t actively trying to rupture eardrums. Andrew stared at him for half a second. 

“Cats,” he said finally, instinctively turning toward the bedroom. “They’re probably under the bed.”

Neil followed without comment.

Andrew dropped to a knee and then the floor, peering into the narrow gap between the bed and the wall. Two sets of eyes reflected back at him, unblinking.

Neil crouched beside him, then leaned further in, bracing one hand on the mattress and climbing partway onto the bed to get a better look. 

“This,” Andrew muttered under his breath, the alarm swallowing most of it, “is not how I pictured this.”

“What?” Neil asked, turning toward him.

“Nothing,” Andrew said quickly.

Neil pressed down on the mattress, as if he was testing it. “Nice,” he said, locking eyes with Andrew. “I like it firm. Makes moving much easier.”

Andrew huffed, surprised. Good to know what Neil was thinking about.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

Neil held eye contact for a moment, then turned his attention back to the problem at hand.

They both ended up on the floor, shoulders brushing, arms stretched awkwardly into the darkness, coaxing with bits of chicken. It took time. Too much time. At one point Andrew found himself flat on his stomach, arm extended toward Sir, cheek pressed to the floor, while Neil lay beside him doing a running commentary.

“Good boy,” Neil murmured. “You’re doing so well.”

Andrew bit his tongue. How was this happening.

Neil’s tone was half-soothing, half amused – Andrew figured the amusement was for his benefit. He will keep that in mind, too.

Eventually, miraculously, Sir crawled forward far enough for Andrew to grab him. King followed soon after, less dignified but equally bribed. They zipped the cats into their backpacks, protests muffled but manageable. Neil reached for one without hesitation, lifting it onto his back like this was the obvious thing to do.

Andrew paused. This must be the worst bootycall Neil ever had.

Shaking his head at the situation, he grabbed blankets from the closet, then his coat and hat. After a moment of hesitation, he also grabbed his bag with his work laptop. 

Neil paused, watching him struggle putting everything on at once, then stepped closer and tugged Andrew’s scarf loose from the hook. He wrapped it around Andrew’s neck with quick, practiced movements. His fingers brushed Andrew’s jaw, pulling him just a little closer.

Neil met his eyes.

“Good?” he asked.

Andrew swallowed. “Yeah.”

They were still standing there when a heavy fist started pounding on the door.

Andrew grabbed his backpack with Sir and opened the door to an angry looking fireman. 

“Get the fuck out of here!” the man barked. “Are you deaf?”

They didn’t argue.

Outside, the cold was brutal. They both wrapped their blankets around them like capes to cover the backpacks and shield the cats. They tried ducking into a nearby restaurant, were promptly kicked out when the bartender saw King and Sir, and ended up pressed against a brick wall instead. They moved the backpacks to their fronts, so they could wrap the blankets around them more easily.

Neil, for some reason, had still not left, so they stood there, close, breath visible in the air.

The alarms finally faded into the background.

Andrew had no idea what the etiquette was. This was the part that usually didn’t exist. You met. You hooked up. You left. You didn’t stand outside in January with your two cats strapped to your chest.

How long could you stand around like this with a hookup before it was officially weird? Was small talk expected? Was silence better? Andrew was still trying to work it out when Neil must’ve decided to spare him.

“How old are they?” He asked, nodding toward the backpacks.

Andrew was holding onto his own like a pregnant woman protecting her belly. He would’ve worried about how unattractive that must look if Neil wasn’t doing the exact same thing.

“Four,” Andrew said. His eyes drifted to Neil’s hands, smoothing slow circles over the blanket. His eyes got stuck on the repetitive motion. Or on the hands.

Probably the hands.

“Did they grow up with you?”

Neil’s fingers kept moving, now kneading the fabric absently.

“…Yeah.”

“They’re very cute.”

That managed to snap Andrew out of it. He blinked and looked up. Thankfully, Neil was watching the fire trucks, firefighters moving in and out of Andrew’s building.

“They’re not,” Andrew said. “They’re demons pretending to be innocent for unsuspecting victims.”

Neil turned back to him, grinning. “Am I the unsuspecting victim?”

“Judging by the amount of chicken they got out of you earlier…”

Neil nodded, amusement bright in his eyes. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

His gaze flicked between the two backpacks. “And their names?”

“King and Sir.”

“Very dignified.”

“Not really.”

He tilted his head. “No?”

“I owed my cousin Nicky a favor,” Andrew reluctantly explained. “Long story. When it came time to name them, he decided that was the favor.”

“So… he named them?”

“Yes.”

“King and Sir?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Neil narrowed his eyes. “And in another manner?”

“What even is a cat name, really.”

“A name,” Neil said solemnly.

“That’s very linguistically correct of you.”

Neil smiled. “So what are their actual names?”

Andrew exhaled. “King Fluffkins and Sir Fat Cat McCatterson.”

There was a beat.

Then Neil’s grin spread slowly. “Wow. Your cousin sounds very… creative.”

“That’s one word for it.”

Neil glanced at their backpacks, then back at Andrew. The silence stretched.

“I like them.”

Andrew blinked, nodded. Wasn’t sure what else to do.

He shifted slightly in place, the backpacks brushing together. Neil didn’t move away. He stayed where he was, looking at Andrew with that small smile that kept warmth pooling low in Andrew’s gut even as the cold crept deeper through his clothes.

King started moving around in her backpack, meowing loudly. Neil adjusted his stance, pulling the blankets closer around the backpack.

Without looking up, he asked, “Does Nicky live here?”

“Unfortunately,” Andrew said, aiming for casual. “Same city. My brother too.”

“That sounds nice.” Neil said, still watching the backpacks. “I moved here for work. Didn’t know anyone at first.”

Not sure what to say to that, Andrew left it at a hum.

“Then I met my friend Matt. He took it upon himself to make sure I never had a single quiet day again.”

Andrew squinted. “Plastic plates Matt?”

Neil laughed, bright and immediate. “That’s him.”

“He seems… destructive.”

“He once broke his wrist trying to carry too many grocery bags because he refused to make a second trip,” Neil said fondly. “Dropped everything, stumbled over the mess, slipped in spilled milk and orange juice. Just sat there on the sidewalk until the ambulance arrived. Saddest thing you’ll ever see.”

Andrew stopped trying not to stare.

Neil’s smile was unfair. Completely, unapologetically unfair. Andrew could only see his eyes, his red nose, his stupidly pretty mouth. But it was more than enough.

He quickly glanced toward his apartment building, hoping to see the firefighters packing up, so they could get back inside, and back on track.

“What about you?” Neil asked.

“No broken wrists.”

“Well, that’s good news.” Neil’s tone was teasing. “Anything else… I should know about?”

“I can…,” Andrew paused, leaning in just a fraction. Waited for Neil to mirror him before he continued, “carry all my groceries at once.”

He watched Neil fight the grin long enough to nod with mock solemnity.

“That’s very impressive.”

“I know.”

“It’s a rare skill.” Neil tilted his head, his eyes not leaving Andrew’s. “Any particular reason for such strong wrists?”

Andrew took him in — bright eyes, nose red from the cold, amusement barely contained. Finally, he landed on, “Purely professional reasons.” 

He repositioned his backpack on his shoulders to avoid getting sucked in again by Neil’s answering laugh, Sir grumbling in protest at the movement. 

“My job is very intense when it comes to typing and mouse clicking.” Andrew explained, raising a brow at Neil who immediately nodded, lips pressed together against a grin. With a sigh, he finally clarified, “I work at the university.” Adding, “I mostly stare at numbers and words.”

Neil raised his eyebrows. “Numbers and words about something specific?”

“They usually are.”

“They are, aren’t they,” Neil said gravely. “Pesky little buggers.”

“What are you, a British lord?”

“My mum’s actually British,” Neil said. “I do feel quite accomplished now and then.”

“Sure you do.”

“Sure I do,” Neil said, studying him. “So, you’re really smart then.”

“Or I just didn’t want to work in a real job.”

“I doubt that’s all of it,” Neil said easily. “But I’ll let you keep the mystery. At least until next time.”

The words landed warm in Andrew’s chest.

Next time.

Andrew shook his head. Looking up from where they had been leaned into each other. He took a deep breath of cold air, clearing his head. He wasn’t used to talking to his hookups. Or strangers in general. He also wasn’t used to a conversation being this easy.

“You?” he asked quickly.

“Also words, foreign ones, though,” Neil said, adding, “I work as a translator.”

“Oh.” Andrew nodded. “Any interesting languages?”

“Spanish. French. The usual.”

“Tres bien,” Andrew offered.

Neil grinned. “Merci.”

“That’s all I’ve got.”

The responding laugh was quick and light. 

“I tried Korean once,” Neil added. “But I never made it past saying I like pasta and steak.”

“Prove it.”

“Pasta rang steakeu joahae.”

Andrew blinked. “That was somehow not as impressive as I thought it’d be.”

Neil grinned, conceding easily. “Fair.”

“Why Korean?”

“Matt loves K-dramas,” Neil said. “It was the only way I could stay awake watching them with him.”

Andrew didn’t quite know what to do with that. Matt and Neil sounded… close.

“He’s moved on to anime now,” Neil continued. “So I’m trying Japanese.”

Andrew tilted his head. “Let me guess. You like… riceu and sushi?”

Neil’s laugh was full and unguarded, his breath puffing white in the cold. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said, settling back against the brick wall, eyes bright. “I’ve recently learned it’s important to stay mysterious.”

Andrew blinked, then huffed at Neil’s shameless flirting.

Their eyes stayed locked until a voice cut across the street.

“You’re clear to head back inside!”

Looking up, they watched a firefighter walk up to them, helmet tucked under his arm.

“False alarm,” he added. “Someone burned popcorn.”

Andrew blinked. “Popcorn.”

“Happens all the time,” the firefighter said, already walking away.

Crossing the street together, they quickly made their way into the building alongside all the other residents. Inside, warmth wrapped around them immediately. Back in the apartment, they set the backpacks down and unzipped them carefully, King and Sir emerging offended but unharmed.

Andrew turned toward Neil who was still by the door. Before he could say anything, though, Neil beat him to it. 

“I should probably get going.” He watched King and Sir disappear in the living room. “And I think those two angels need their sleep.”

Andrew paused, then nodded slowly.

Yeah. That made sense. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected Neil to stay after freezing outside with his cats for that long.

Neil hesitated, hand on the handle. “What are you doing Tuesday?” Quickly adding, “Eight?”

Andrew’s brain started to protest but the answer came out before it could catch up.

“Nothing. Eight sounds good.”

“Cool.” Neil smiled. “I’ll text you.”

He was still nodding at the closed door long after Neil had gone.

Neil’s text came in just after seven. An address, followed by a single smiley face. Andrew stared at it for a moment, then nodded to himself. 

He vaguely recognized the street name. It was just north of the city center, in an area Andrew was somewhat familiar with. After a quick dinner, he grabbed his keys and left.

This time, he told himself, it would be straightforward. No cleaning. No alarms. Just the familiar rhythm of meeting someone, closing the distance, letting the night do what it was supposed to do.

The drive was easy. Quiet. Andrew didn’t overthink it. Just let the expectation settle, comfortable and unexamined.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up and immediately knew he’d been wrong.

The building was squat and boxy, set back from the street, lit in aggressive neon that pulsed faintly against the dark. LASER QUEST glowed above the entrance in colors that suggested poor decisions and bad music. A group of teenagers spilled out the doors laughing, the sound of them sharp and echoing.

Andrew slowed the car.

Stopped.

Checked the address again.

Sat there for a second, engine idling.

Right. Okay.

He was just starting to consider alternative explanations when the doors opened again and Neil stepped out, bundled up, scanning the street like he was looking for someone. Andrew’s brain scrambled, trying to reach for a theory that made sense.

Maybe this was where Neil worked. Did laser tag places need translators? Maybe for international tournaments. Maybe this was a side gig. Maybe—

Or maybe Neil was dating Matt. That would explain things. The secrecy. The address. The insistence on meeting here. Andrew wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He wasn’t interested in being someone’s bad decision.

Then Neil spotted him.

His face lit up instantly, unmistakably pleased. He lifted a hand and waved like this was exactly where Andrew was meant to be.

He got out of the car just as Neil bounced over.

“You made it!” Neil said, breathless with excitement. “The others are already inside.”

“The others,” Andrew repeated. “Inside.”

Neil nodded. “Yeah.”

“This,” Andrew said, gesturing vaguely at the building, “is laser tag.”

Neil beamed. “It is.”

Andrew glanced past him, at the glowing entrance, the teens, the noise, the complete lack of anything resembling privacy. 

A secret hookup in the employee bathrooms seemed very unlikely now.

They walked inside together.

Just to the right of the entrance, a small group was clustered around a counter. A tall guy with spiky hair spotted Neil immediately, then Andrew. His mouth forming words Andrew couldn’t hear. Within seconds, three more pairs of eyes were on him.

“Everyone, this is Andrew!” Neil announced. Turning to Andrew, he listed off names, pointing from one person to the next. “And that’s Matt, Seth, Allison, and Dan.”

Matt’s face split into a grin. “You’re Andrew!” He looked like enthusiasm in human form.

Andrew nodded.

Seth barely looked up from his phone. Allison gave Andrew a long, assessing look, her mouth curving like she knew exactly why he was here. Dan’s gaze lingered, sharp and thoughtful. It reminded him of his teachers when they decided if he was more trouble than he was worth.

Andrew had no idea what was happening.

Before he could ask, Matt shoved a vest into his hands. “Here, put this on. Our time slot starts in five minutes.”

“You’re with us,” Neil said, already tugging his own vest into place. “Me and Dan.”

“Unfair.” Matt groaned. “I wanted Neil.”

“Too bad,” Dan said flatly, already moving toward the arena.

And just like that, Andrew was herded forward, vest strapped on, gun pressed into his hand, neon lights flickering to life around him.

He told himself he would endure one round. Two, at most.

Half an hour later, Andrew was crouched behind a glowing pillar, heart racing. Neil darted past him, voice bright with excitement, shouting something unintelligible. Andrew reacted on instinct, covering him without thinking.

After two hours, their team had won. Mostly because Matt was, in fact, every bit as clumsy as Neil had promised. Andrew figured that out somewhere between the second round and the moment Matt tripped over his own feet trying to make a dramatic dive behind cover, firing wildly in the wrong direction. 

*

When it was over, they spilled back out into the cold air, breath fogging, everyone talking over each other. While Matt was loudly dissecting his own mistakes, Andrew took note of Dan’s arm around his waist.

No secret hookup then.

Never mind the significant lack of any hookup so far, secret or otherwise.

Just then, Neil leaned over and murmured, “Do you mind driving me home?”

Andrew didn’t hesitate. “Sure.”

This was it, then. The part that actually made sense. The night had taken a detour, sure, but this was familiar territory.

Andrew started walking toward his car while Neil said his goodbyes.

Matt had looked surprised, Allison knowing, and Dan said something to Neil that got lost in the cold wind. Probably something along the lines of “be careful.”

Andrew ignored it. He had no interest in the opinions of people he wouldn’t see again.

The car was cold when they got inside, the doors shutting out the noise from the people standing near the building entrance. The world shrank down to leather seats and quiet streets. Neil settled into the passenger seat, tugging the seatbelt into place, still flushed from exertion.

After Neil gave him his address, Andrew pulled away from the curb and eased into the rhythm of the drive. 

This was where things usually started. 

Where the edges blurred and proximity did the work.

Neil fell asleep five minutes into the drive.

Andrew noticed because Neil’s head tipped gently against the window, breath evening out. Streetlights slid over his face in soft bands of gold.

When they reached the address, Andrew cut the engine and waited.

Neil didn’t stir.

Andrew watched him for a beat longer than he meant to. Then, voice low, he said, “Neil.”

Neil blinked awake, disoriented, then relaxed when he saw Andrew. “Sorry,” he said immediately. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“That’s fine.” 

He shut off the headlights, unbuckled his seatbelt, already preparing to get out.

“Today was fun.” Neil sounded earnest and bright despite the sleep still clinging to him. “We should do that again soon.”

Andrew looked at him.

Neil smiled.

Andrew’s brain went blank.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sure.”

After a sudden “Goodnight, Andrew!” Neil quickly climbed out of the car, waved once, and disappeared into the building without looking back.

Andrew stayed where he was, hands resting uselessly on the wheel, staring at the darkened entrance.

After a moment, he exhaled.

“What the fuck,” he said quietly to the empty car.

And drove home more confused than he’d been all night.

Andrew told Kevin about laser tag over lunch.

This was, objectively, a mistake.

They were in the university cafeteria, the faint smell of disinfectant and overcooked vegetables lingering in the air around them. Kevin had chosen a table near the window, Thea’s usual seat next to him still empty for now. Andrew pushed the food around with his fork, not really hungry.

“So the only thing we did,” Andrew said, “was play laser tag.”

Kevin looked up from his half finished plate. “Laser tag is bad,” he said slowly, nodding. “Because it promotes unnecessary competitiveness, spatial aggression, and a deeply flawed understanding of strategy.”

“It was actually fine.” Andrew shrugged.

Kevin frowned. “Then why are you complaining about laser tag?”

“This is not about the laser tag.”

“Then why are you talking about it?” Kevin set his fork down. “This is why you need to work on your communication, Andrew. How am I supposed to know which direction I’m meant to support you in when you can’t articulate what the problem is?”

“There is no problem.”

Kevin nodded once. “Then this entire conversation has been pointless.”

“The point,” Andrew said, patiently, “is that we still haven’t hooked up.”

Kevin blinked. “So? I thought you had his number. Just text him.”

“We’ve seen each other three times.”

“Yes,” Kevin said. “You told me. Every time you were unsuccessful.” He paused. Leaned in. “Is this about your prowess?”

Andrew stared at him. “No.”

“Are you worried you’re no longer attractive?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Kevin said thoughtfully. “If you are, I can give you some tips to improve your workout routine.”

“This is not about my… prowess.”

“If you say so. Statistics might disagree.”

“The point is—”

“You haven’t hooked up,” Kevin said. “Yes. You said that.”

“So what am I supposed to do.”

Kevin tilted his head. “I thought there was no problem with your prowess. Someone secure in their prowess wouldn’t ask someone else for advice.”

“I’m not asking for advice.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.”

Thea chose that moment to sit down beside Kevin, setting her tray on the table.

“Hello, boys.” She looked between them. “What’s up?”

Kevin didn’t miss a beat. “Andrew has lost his prowess and is asking me for advice.”

“I didn’t,” Andrew said. “And I haven’t.”

Thea blinked. “Prowess as in… performance issues?”

“Yes,” Kevin said at the same time as Andrew’s decisive “No.”

Kevin rolled his eyes.

“No performance issues,” Andrew repeated. “In fact, there is no problem at all. Everything is perfect.”

Kevin leaned back. “Then text the guy.”

Andrew hesitated. “Maybe I will.”

“What guy?” Thea asked.

Neither of them acknowledged her.

“Then do it,” Kevin said.

“I will.”

“Do it.”

Andrew pulled out his phone. “I’m doing it.”

Kevin folded his arms. “I’m waiting.”

Andrew paused.

Kevin raised his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” A beat. “No…”

“Don’t say it.”

“Prowess?”

Andrew opened the chat with Neil and typed.

Andrew: Tonight 8?

He stared at his phone for several painful seconds when thankfully the reply came through.

Neil: Sure! Do you want to come to my place?

Andrew held his phone up triumphantly.

“Full. Prowess.”

Kevin leaned back in his chair. “Have fun spiraling for the next,” he checked his watch, “six and a half hours.”

Andrew sat back, groaning quietly. “Bastard.”

*

When Andrew finally left his apartment at 7:40 p.m., he knew one thing with absolute clarity: he hated bootycalls.

One might think he would have learned his lesson the first time. 

Or the second. 

But apparently Neil’s hotness overrode any functioning brain synapses to the point where Andrew kept walking himself into a situation he did not enjoy. Eyes wide open. Brain firmly shut off.

The afternoon had been useless. His low-orbit model insisted nothing could survive on or around Titan, which was either deeply inconvenient or proof the model was wrong. Instead of fixing it, he spent three hours staring at his screen, debating what clothes to wear and imagining getting Neil out of his.

Starting the car, he pushed all thoughts aside.

They were back on track. He would drive over to Neil, and things would finally follow the usual process.

The city, apparently, had other ideas.

The traffic started innocently enough. A slowdown. Brake lights flaring ahead of him, then easing. Andrew adjusted, switched lanes, checked the clock.

Still fine.

Five minutes later, he hadn’t moved an inch.

Andrew leaned forward, peering past the line of cars. Nothing. Somewhere ahead, sirens wailed and cut off again. An electronic sign flickered to life, announcing a major accident and multiple road closures.

He exhaled through his nose.

Fine.

He checked the route on his phone. Everywhere was red.

He tapped his steering wheel, unsure what the correct move here even was. Eventually, he bit the bullet and texted Neil.

Andrew: Traffic, running late

Neil: Okay 🙂

He set the phone down and waited.

Another five minutes passed. The car in front of him shut off its engine.

Andrew looked around. Tapped his wheel. Checked the time. He was going to be late, but not that late. This was still manageable.

Ten minutes later, he sent another message.

Andrew: Still stuck

Neil: 👍

Andrew stared at the screen.

Tried not to read anything into it.

Was Neil relieved he was late?

No. That didn’t make sense.

The sky had gone fully dark, stars swallowed by clouds and city lights. A few cars over, someone got out and lit a cigarette. A delivery van attempted an illegal turn and failed spectacularly. Andrew watched the minutes tick by.

After half an hour, he texted again.

Andrew: Sorry, still stuck

He stared at the message after sending it.

Since when did he apologize to hookups?

He moved to edit it just as the typing indicator appeared.

Too late. Apology it was.

Neil: Don’t worry about it!

Don’t worry about it.

Andrew frowned.

Did that mean Neil was fine waiting? Or fine… not waiting? Was this Neil giving him an out?

How late was too late? Thirty minutes was acceptable. An hour was pushing it. Anything beyond that started to feel weird. Desperate.

Andrew did not want to look desperate.

The traffic didn’t budge.

Another ten minutes passed. Then another.

He ran through the scenario methodically. He’d arrive late. Maybe laugh it off. Maybe Neil wouldn’t care. Maybe he would. Was Neil the type to get annoyed?

How late could you show up to a hookup before it stopped being one? Was there a time window?

Andrew didn’t like not knowing the rules.

He checked the time again. Then leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

At this point, he didn’t need to know the rules to know this was officially too late.

He picked up his phone, typed, deleted, typed again. Let his thumb hover.

Finally, he sent it.

Andrew: Too much traffic, turning around

He set the phone down carefully, like that would make it less final.

It buzzed almost immediately.

Neil: Okay 🙂 dan and matt just fell asleep on the couch anyway. Maybe next week?

Andrew stared at the screen.

Fell asleep.

On the couch.

Anyway.

For a split second, his brain tried to make it make sense. Maybe Neil had invited them over earlier and planned to kick them out. Maybe it would’ve been awkward. Dan would’ve given him that look again. Matt would’ve made some kind of motivational speech. Maybe this was for the best.

Maybe.

Maybe this was all too much effort for one hookup.

He sat there in the cold, engine silent, staring at the glow of his phone until the screen dimmed.

Objectively speaking, this was getting ridiculous.

No one should be putting this much effort into a single hookup. Timing traffic. Rethinking outfits. Rescheduling across weeks. That wasn’t how this worked. 

That wasn’t how it had ever worked for him.

But.

Neil didn’t cancel. 

Maybe next week?

Andrew took a deep breath. 

Cassini didn’t give up just because it lost a reaction wheel. It kept going through the Solar System anyway. So who was Andrew to say no to a really hot gut who wanted to sleep with him just because of some minor setbacks.

He tapped his screen awake, staring at Neil’s last message.

Maybe next week?

He nodded to himself.

Andrew: Sounds good

If Cassini could survive seven years to finally see Saturn, Andrew would manage another week to see Neil.

By the time the next week rolled around, Andrew had perfected the art of pretending nothing was out of the ordinary.

He told himself he wasn’t paying attention to the calendar, even as he kept track of days passing by. He did laundry on a Sunday without meaning to. Checked his phone more often than usual, just in case something came in that he hadn’t anticipated.

He told himself this was normal, which was usually a sign that it wasn’t.

Monday evening found him standing in his kitchen, one hip against the counter, watching the microwave count down the last few seconds on something that had already been reheated several times, when his self control caved and he pulled out his phone.

Andrew: What are you doing?

The reply came almost immediately.

Neil: About to have fun

Andrew exhaled, smirking to himself.

Finally. Things were aligning.

A few seconds later, another message came through.

Neil: Wanna come over?

He didn’t overthink it. Grabbed his jacket, his keys, his phone, and drove. Twenty minutes. No traffic. No complications. Everything went smoothly, the way it did when you’re calm and in control and not walking into anything unexpected.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Neil.

It was Matt.

“Andrew!” Matt beamed like this was the best surprise of his week. “You made it!”

Andrew blinked.

“Yes,” he said slowly, glancing past Matt into the apartment. “I—”

“Come in, come in.” Matt stepped aside, already ushering him forward. “You’re right on time!”

Andrew stepped inside and paused just long enough to take it in.

The apartment was small. One bedroom, if he had to guess. The living room led directly into an open kitchen, half-partitioned by a short wall that did nothing to contain sound. The furniture was simple and functional, a small couch, a bookshelf that held more board games than books. No clutter. And no attempt at aesthetic cohesion.

There were photos on the walls. Actual photos. Matt mid-laugh with his arm thrown around Neil. Dan in sunglasses, Allison leaning into Seth, a blurry group shot at what looked like some outdoor festival. Neil was in most of them. Smiling. Shoulder to shoulder with the same people.

Andrew let his eyes wander quietly.

The coffee table had been cleared except for a board game that looked vaguely familiar, stacks of cards, empty glasses, a bowl of something crunchy. Dan was on the couch, legs tucked under her, watching him with that same measured look he’d seen at laser tag.

“Andrew!” Neil stepped out of the kitchen area, smiling openly. “You made it!”

Andrew nodded once. “Hey—”

“That’s what I said, too!” Matt was laughing, walking past Andrew to high five Neil.

Andrew looked from one to the other.

This was… not right.

Before he could ask literally any clarifying question, Matt clapped his hands together. “Okay! Teams.”

Andrew checked the time on his phone. No one was putting on coats. No one was wrapping anything up.

Matt pointed decisively. “Neil and me. Obviously.”

At that, Dan looked up from where she had been arranging glasses. “Uh, babe?”

“Yeah?” Matt looked at her, zero understanding but nodding encouragingly. “You can play with Andrew.”

Andrew froze.

Dan looked between Neil and Andrew, then back at Matt. Something flickered across her face before she nodded. “Fine.”

Andrew opened his mouth. Closed it again.

He didn’t need to be on a team. He didn’t need to play anything. Whatever this was could finish, they could all leave, and then the night could finally proceed in a way that made sense.

Instead, Matt shoved a stack of cards into Neil’s hands and started explaining the rules at a volume and speed that suggested he had no idea what he was talking about.

It was Taboo.

And ten minutes later, Andrew and Dan were already winning.

Not deliberately, at least on his part. Dan was sharp, precise, while Neil was too busy laughing to be useful and Matt was chaos incarnate. Andrew found himself leaning forward against his better judgment, throwing out answers as if he cared.

Dan shot him an approving look on more than one occasion when they nailed some of the more absurd words.

Neil was holding his stomach from laughing when Andrew kept squeaking at Matt for the tenth time in about as many seconds — open, bright, unguarded — and Andrew realized, distantly, that he didn’t even mind Matt being terrible if it made Neil laugh like that.

That realization irritated him enough that he immediately dismissed it.

By the time Andrew and Dan finally made it across the finish line, Neil and Matt were still hopelessly stranded halfway down the board, arguing about rules that no longer mattered.

Matt flopped back against the couch in theatrical despair. Neil was breathless with laughter, cheeks flushed, still pressing the squeaker with absolutely no rhythm.

Dan stood and took the bowls. To Andrew, she said, “Can you grab the glasses?”

Not waiting for him to respond she walked off into the kitchen. Andrew, unsure what to do, followed, stacking cups by the sink. She took them, rinsed them methodically, eyes on the glass, not on him.

“So,” she said casually when he was about to turn away. “How old are you?”

“Uh.” Looking between the living room and Dan at the sink, he realized that walking off was probably not an acceptable choice. “Twenty-seven.”

She nodded.

“And you work…?”

He told her.

“Where do you live?”

He told her that too.

“And you met Neil…?”

“Bar.”

She set another glass on the counter. “Do you like board games?”

No.

“They’re fine.”

“You’re quite good at them.”

“Thanks?”

This was a deeply strange line of questioning for someone he didn’t really know and was planning on never seeing again. He still wasn’t sure why they were talking at all.

Cleaning dishes did not require talking.

“What are your plans with Neil?” she asked.

Get him naked.

“Hang out.”

Thank you, brain.

When she looked back at Andrew, her expression had shifted to something less guarded.

“Just so you know,” she said, voice even, “Neil’s had a long year.”

And he had a long two weeks, so if she and Matt could get a move on and out of this apartment, that’d be great. 

Out loud, he said, “Okay.”

She studied him for another beat, then nodded once, decisive.

“Good.”

They finished clearing the last of the dishes in blessed silence.

When they returned to the living room, Neil was asleep on the couch.

Andrew stopped short.

Curled into the corner, head tipped back, mouth slightly open, one hand still clutching the squeaker.

Matt immediately shushed them, dramatic finger to lips. “Long day.”

Dan grabbed her phone off the table. “We’re leaving.”

They didn’t ask Andrew if he was staying. They simply shepherded him toward the door like this was the obvious conclusion of the evening.

“Good to see you again,” Matt whispered cheerfully as they stepped into the hallway and pulled Neil’s apartment door shut behind them, Andrew stuck on the wrong side of it.

They walked into the apartment next door.

With one final wave from Matt, Andrew was left alone in the hallway of Neil’s building, staring at the closed door like it might explain itself if he waited long enough.

A hookup did not involve board games.

Or weird interrogations.

Or falling asleep on a couch.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, for what was rapidly becoming a recurring theme.

“And then you left?”

On Andrew’s screen, his latest microscopic Titan colony died one by one in neat, clinical red digits.

“What was I supposed to do? Stand around in an empty hallway?”

He adjusted the atmospheric density and ran the simulation again.

“You could’ve knocked.” Kevin shrugged. “Or texted him.”

Andrew stared at Kevin from across his desk.

They had migrated to Andrew’s office when the cafeteria had closed after lunch and kicked everyone out. Kevin’s office was in a different building across campus but he had insisted on following him. The colleague across the room was pretending very hard not to listen, which meant he was absolutely listening.

Waking Neil up last night after Dan and Matt had pushed him out of the apartment had not occurred to him. He had no idea why not.

“He was asleep,” he finally settled on.

The projected microbe cluster held formation.

Then the radiation variable spiked.

Everything died again.

Kevin leaned back in the rickety chair students usually sat in during office hours when they insisted on bothering Andrew. He watched Andrew, brows furrowed. “Interesting.”

“What.”

Kevin folded his arms. “Best case,” he said, “you’re dating.”

Andrew turned his chair slowly. “How is that the best case. And we’re not dating.”

“Because that might include sex.” Kevin looked at him as if the answer was obvious. “Which, as I understood your repetitive ramblings, is what you want.”

“We’re not dating,” Andrew repeated. “We’re hooking up.”

Turning back to his screen, he changed the shielding. Ran it again.

“Just without the hooking up part,” Kevin clarified.

“We’re getting to that.”

“And in the meantime?”

“There is no meantime,” Andrew said. “Just hookup.”

Kevin considered this. “Maybe you’re those friends with extras.”

“Benefits,” Andrew corrected automatically.

Kevin stared at him.

“You mean friends with benefits.”

Kevin tilted his head. “Are the semantics relevant to your failed sexual endeavours?”

Andrew took a deep breath. “The point is, we’re working on it.”

On his screen, the model collapsed again. No survivors.

He restarted the model without thinking.

“On the extras,” Kevin clarified again.

“Sure.”

“So you’re just friends.”

“We’re not friends.”

“Just extras.”

“Yes.”

“Without the extras.”

“Yet.”

“So you’re—”

“Don’t say it.”

“Friends.”

“We’re not friends.”

Titan colony survival: zero.

Kevin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “You’re not dating. You’re not having sex. But you know each other. You hang out. You play board games.”

Andrew clenched his jaw. “That doesn’t make us friends.”

Kevin frowned thoughtfully. “Then what would you call it?”

“That’s not important.” Andrew turned to his screen, ignoring Kevin. “We’re hooking up.”

He adjusted the surface pressure. Ran it again.

“But you do friend things.”

“We do pre-hookup things.”

Kevin made a face. “That doesn’t sound like a thing.”

“It is,” Andrew insisted.

“Are you sure?” Kevin asked. “Maybe you’re in that zone for people other people don’t want to sleep with.”

Andrew straightened. “I am firmly in the hookup zone. Everything is fine.”

“Except he’s not sleeping with you.”

“Yet.”

“And shows no interest in sleeping with you.”

“He does,” Andrew said immediately. “He’s definitely interested.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Based on what.”

“We text.”

“Like friends.”

“And we meet up.”

“Like friends.”

Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose. “We flirt.”

“Example?”

Andrew opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Kevin looked at him expectantly.

Andrew stared at him.

“Well?” Kevin prompted.

Andrew searched his memory. 

Neil smiling. Eyes bright, fully focused on Andrew. Leaning in.

“They way he looks at me,” Andrew said finally.

“Is that all?” Kevin frowned. “That’s not very convincing.”

Andrew exhaled sharply. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’ve been listening to you talk about this for three weeks.” Kevin leaned back, irritated. “So it clearly does.”

“The point is, we’re flirting.”

“It just doesn’t go anywhere,” Kevin finished for him.

“Yet.”

Kevin nodded slowly. “I think you should look into that zone thing.”

“I am not in the friendzone.”

“So you know the zone.”

Andrew stiffened. “I do not.”

“From experience?”

“No.”

Across the desk, his colleague coughed loudly into his coffee mug, muttering, “Definitely friendzoned.”

Andrew shot him a look.

The colleague raised his hands. “Just saying, man.”

Kevin leaned back again. “Look. If you want out of the friendzone—”

“I’m not in the friendzone.”

“—you might have to do something,” Kevin continued, undeterred.

Andrew frowned. “Like what.”

“No idea.”

Andrew stared at him.

“How would I know? I never had that problem.”

Andrew leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and glared at the ceiling.

This was ridiculous.

He was not in the friendzone.

Andrew finally glanced at his screen.

All red.

Again.

*

The apartment was quiet in the way Andrew liked. The city existed outside his windows, muffled into the distance. Inside, everything had its place. 

The television murmured in the background, some cooking show where a man with aggressively white teeth was explaining how to emulsify a sauce Andrew would never make. King lay pressed against his thigh on the couch, a warm, solid weight, her purr vibrating through the fabric of his sweatpants. 

Sir was perched on the cat tree by the window, a furry lump with ears, occasionally blinking as if to confirm the world was still disappointing.

Andrew stared at the screen without really seeing it.

The chef lifted a pan. Something sizzled. The judges murmured appreciatively.

King shifted, kneaded once, and then draped her front paws over his leg as if to make sure he didn’t go anywhere. Andrew automatically scratched behind her ear with two fingers.

Kevin’s voice, from earlier, had been stuck in his head like an annoying pop song on repeat:

Friendzone.

And, more confusingly yet:

You might have to do something.

Andrew exhaled through his nose.

That was the problem, wasn’t it. Kevin had said it like a statement of fact, delivered with the same tone he used when explaining why weather changes or governments fail.

Andrew didn’t do things in situations like this. He’s never even been in a situation like this. He saw opportunities, took them, done.

He didn’t force something that wasn’t going to happen.

He stared at the television as the chef plated something delicate and unnecessary. King’s purr vibrated steadily against his leg.

Friendzone.

That implied categories. It implied that someone looked at you and decided, like sorting laundry, where you belonged.

Andrew didn’t like being sorted.

He also didn’t like that, on paper, Kevin’s argument made sense in the most infuriating way possible.

They weren’t having sex.

They weren’t dating.

They were seeing each other with a frequency that made no logical sense for two people who had met at a bar with the clear intent of not learning each other’s last names.

Andrew frowned slightly.

No sex was worth this much effort. That was not negotiable.

And yet Neil kept smiling at him like everything was as it should be.

That was the real problem.

Every time Andrew thought, this is it, this is where I stop bothering, Neil would invite him. Smile at him like Andrew belonged in the room.

Warm and open and entirely too effective.

Neil laughed the same way. Like whatever was happening was genuinely funny, even when it shouldn’t have been.

And he looked at Andrew like he was something worth focusing on.

Andrew didn’t like that.

He didn’t like that he kept thinking about it afterward.

Didn’t like that the evenings hadn’t felt wasted, even when they’d gone nowhere.

Andrew frowned at the screen. Cooking-show man was now whisking something aggressively. King twitched an ear. Sir shifted in the cat tree, a long-suffering sigh of someone burdened with inferior company.

Neil being attractive was not the issue. Neil being interested was not the issue. Neil being fun without the sex — without the expected payoff — that was the issue.

That was how you ended up off-balance.

Andrew was good at outcomes. He was good at decisions. He was good at not letting other people drag him into their nonsense.

Neil, apparently, did not know this.

He reached for his phone, stopped, and set it back down again.

No.

Kevin had been right about one thing, irritating as that was.

He had to make a decision.

If Andrew texted first again, if Andrew suggested another plan again, if Andrew kept pulling at this thread, it would become… effort.

It already was effort.

And no one should be putting this much effort into a single hookup.

King’s purr rumbled on, steady as a metronome.

Andrew picked up his phone again, unlocked it, stared at the list of recent messages.

Neil’s name sat there like a dare.

He stared for a beat, then locked the screen again and set the phone face-down on the coffee table.

He would not chase. He would not initiate. He would not push for another situation where he drove across town or got interrogated in someone’s kitchen like he was applying for a position he hadn’t asked for.

Andrew exhaled slowly through his nose. It felt like letting go of a rope he hadn’t realized he’d been pulling.

He leaned back against the couch. King adjusted instantly, reasserting full-body contact. Andrew rested a hand on her side, grounding himself in something solid and uncomplicated.

The chef on TV announced a winner. Applause swelled, canned and enthusiastic.

Andrew barely noticed.

He had decided.

He wasn’t going to keep letting this stretch on just because Neil’s laughter did something unpleasant to his chest that he had no intention of examining.

If Neil wanted to hook up, he’d have to make it happen.

If he didn’t, Andrew would step back.

He closed his eyes for a beat, then exhaled.

King purred louder, as if in approval. Sir cracked one eye open, assessed the situation, then settled back down.

Good.

Problem solved.

The café was green.

Very green.

There were plants everywhere, hanging from the ceiling, trailing down shelves, crowding the windowsills. The chalkboard menu behind the counter was written in looping cursive that looked like words but Andrew couldn’t be sure. And the seating was a mismatched sea of several style decades and at least three aesthetic philosophies. Low lounge chairs. Deep sofas you sank into. Nothing at a sensible height.

It was, unmistakably, very Nicky.

Andrew sat across from his cousin and his brother for their monthly Friday afternoon get-together, navigating the generous mountain of whipped cream and cocoa powder on top of his hot chocolate carefully, trying to drink without smearing chocolate across his face like a child.

Across from him, Nicky was in full flow.

Something about him and Erik’s next holiday. Or possibly three holidays. There were detours into flight times, a hotel that had been “cute but vibe-wise difficult,” and a tangent about a man they’d met once in Lisbon who may or may not have owned a dog. The story looped back on itself at least twice.

Andrew nodded at what felt like appropriate intervals.

Aaron sat beside Nicky, phone in hand, scrolling with the air of someone who had long since accepted this as background noise. He didn’t even pretend to listen.

Andrew was halfway through wondering how long he had to stay before it counted as showing his face when the door opened.

And Neil walked in.

Andrew froze.

For a split second, his brain refused to process the image properly. Neil didn’t belong here. Neil belonged in bars.

And, apparently, also in laser tag arenas and apartments with board games, which Andrew still hadn’t fully reconciled.

But definitely not in a café with Andrew’s family.

Neil was bundled up against the cold, scarf loose around his neck, hair a little mussed from the wind. Matt barreled in behind him, already talking, Dan right on his heels.

For half a second, Andrew considered ducking. Sliding lower in his chair. Pretending he had suddenly become invisible.

But that was stupid, of course.

They were hookups. You ignored hookups in public. Any eye contact was accidental. Mutual discretion. Everyone went on with their lives.

Andrew settled back, committing to polite invisibility.

Neil, apparently, did not care about hookup etiquette.

When he spotted Andrew, his face lit up.

He lifted a hand and waved, wide and unmistakable, then tapped Matt’s shoulder and pointed. Matt followed his gaze and broke into a grin just as big, waving like Andrew was a long-lost friend he was thrilled to rediscover in the wild.

Andrew stared back, expression carefully blank, pulse doing something deeply unhelpful.

This was not happening.

Matt immediately veered toward them.

Dan caught his sleeve without breaking stride and steered him toward the counter instead, murmuring something low. Matt protested briefly, then got distracted by pastries.

Neil, however, did not pause.

He changed direction, closing the distance with the kind of ease that suggested this was the obvious thing to do.

Andrew straightened reflexively, then immediately resented himself for it.

“Hi,” Neil said, smiling like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey,” Andrew said, the lift at the end of the word entirely unplanned.

Nicky stopped mid-sentence, looking between them, eyes lighting up with unholy delight.

“Well,” he said brightly, leaning forward. “Hello. You’re very hot.”

Aaron closed his eyes.

“Nicky,” he said, tired already, “please don’t do this.”

Nicky ignored him completely. “I’m Nicky,” he continued. “And this is Aaron. And you clearly know Andrew.” He wiggled his eyebrows, pleased with himself.

Andrew contemplated throwing himself out the nearest window.

Neil didn’t even blink.

“I’m Neil,” he said easily, glancing past Andrew. His eyes flicked to Nicky and Aaron. Looking back at Nicky, he asked, “You must be the cousin who named Andrew’s cats?”

That made Nicky light up instantly. “Andrew told you about me?”

“Oh yes,” Neil said, earnestly. “He told me you’re a very creative person.”

Nicky pressed a hand to his chest, eyes big and genuine as he looked at Andrew. “Aww.”

When Neil turned back to Andrew, his eyes sparked with mischief, like he was enjoying this far too much. Andrew met it with a flat look, which only made Neil look more pleased with himself.

After a moment, Neil tilted his head slightly. The look in his eyes turning warm in a way Andrew was not prepared for.

“Do you want to come over later?” Neil asked.

Andrew forgot how to speak.

“Ooooooh,” Nicky stage-whispered, vibrating with delight.

Aaron looked from Neil to Andrew to the table. “This is a restaurant,” he said flatly. “With other people.”

Neil didn’t look away from Andrew.

Andrew felt his shoulders rise in a shrug before he’d made a decision. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then tried once more.

“Sure.”

At least he’d get something out of this.

Neil’s smile shifted, like he liked that answer.

“Cool,” he said. “Eight?”

Andrew nodded.

Neil stepped back, nodded at Nicky and Aaron. “Nice meeting you,” he added, like this was all perfectly normal, then turned to rejoin his friends as if he hadn’t just derailed Andrew’s entire afternoon.

Andrew watched him go.

The second Neil was out of earshot, Nicky grabbed at his arm on the table.

“Oh my god,” he whispered loudly. “Oh my god. You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”

“I’m not seeing him,” Andrew said automatically.

Aaron snorted.

Nicky squinted at him. “Andrew.”

“No,” Andrew said. “It’s not—we’re just—”

“Sure,” Nicky said, grinning. “Just a very hot guy inviting you over in public in front of your family.”

Aaron helpfully added, “A guy who reduced your vocabulary to two words.”

Andrew shot his brother a look.

“Well,” Nicky said, beaming, “I think this is great. My little cousin. Getting himself a hot man.”

Andrew sighed, then rubbed his temple.

He took a sip of his hot chocolate and immediately regretted it when whipped cream stuck to the tip of his nose.

Of course.

Reaching for a napkin to wipe off the cream, he quickly looked around to make sure Neil was gone and hadn’t seen that happen.

Glaring at a laughing Nicky, he asked, “Can we talk about literally anything else.”

*

Andrew found a parking spot two streets down and sat there for a second longer than necessary.

He checked his reflection in the rearview mirror, then leaned closer, tilting his head to make sure his hair was doing what it was supposed to. It wasn’t perfect, but it was fine. He tugged at his jacket, smoothed the fabric over his shoulders, adjusted the collar like that might make a difference—

This was ridiculous. 

Shaking his head at himself, he got out of the car and gave himself a final once-over in the dark reflection of his car window.

He headed toward the apartment building just as a group of people stumbled into the lobby, laughing loudly. Someone held the door open with their foot, and Andrew slipped in behind them.

The elevator was already waiting, doors opened, the same group piled inside. Andrew stepped in last, nodding politely, eyes on the floor numbers as the doors slid shut.

They all pressed the same button.

The ride up was loud and cramped and smelled vaguely of cheap perfume and beer. Andrew stood to the side, hands in his pockets, tuning it out. When the doors opened, the group poured out ahead of him, voices echoing down the hallway.

Andrew followed more slowly, orienting himself. He spotted Neil’s door almost immediately.

The one next to it, however, was wide open.

Music spilled out into the hallway, bass-heavy and insistent. Laughter layered over it, conversation overlapping, a room already too full of people who didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.

Andrew paused.

Wasn’t that Dan and Matt’s place?

A bad feeling started niggling in his gut but he decided to ignore it. Stepping towards the correct door, he lifted his hand to knock—

“ANDREW!”

Matt appeared in the doorway of the other apartment, already red-cheeked and grinning, drink sloshing dangerously in one hand. He crossed the distance in three unsteady steps and lunged for Andrew.

Andrew sidestepped just in time, but not enough.

Matt’s arm still hooked around his shoulder, dragging him bodily toward the open apartment.

“I’m—” Andrew protested, already being pulled inside.

The door swung shut behind them, cutting off any chance of escape.

“Glad you could make it!” Matt yelled cheerfully as he hauled Andrew further inside. “Neil’s in the kitchen!”

Of course, Neil would be here.

Andrew took in the room in one sharp sweep.

Too many people. Shoes kicked under furniture. Coats draped over every available surface. Someone dancing badly near the window. Someone else arguing about music near the speaker.

Allison leaned against the counter, drink in hand, eyes flicking to Andrew with immediate recognition and something that looked suspiciously like amusement.

Seth hovered nearby, scrolling on his phone, radiating disinterest.

And then there were at least two dozen other people Andrew had never seen before, all talking at once.

Matt finally released him and immediately forgot he existed.

Andrew adjusted his jacket, recalibrating. This was… not what he’d expected. But fine. He could work with this.

He scanned the room, spotting what he assumed was the kitchen on the other side of the living room.

Stepping inside, Neil stood against the counter, half-turned toward a guy who was gesturing wildly as he talked, hands slicing through the air like he was reenacting something dramatic. Andrew had a brief, uncharitable thought about who that guy might be.

Then Neil looked up.

Saw him.

And everything else seemed to fall out of focus.

Neil’s face lit up instantly, smile wide and unmistakable, like Andrew was exactly who he’d been hoping to see. He stepped away from the other guy mid-sentence without apology and made a beeline for Andrew.

The guy blinked, confused, then continued his story to no one in particular.

Andrew exhaled slowly.

Okay. That was better.

Neil reached him a second later, still smiling, and Andrew felt the last of his earlier tension ease out of his shoulders. 

He leaned in close enough that their arms brushed, his mouth near Andrew’s ear, voice pitched low to cut through the noise. “You’re here,” he said, warm and pleased. “Hi.”

They were finally close. Close enough that Andrew could count Neil’s lashes, could see the faint flush on his cheeks from the heat and the crowd. 

His hand settled at Neil’s waist, fingers firm, pulling him another inch until their chests brushed with every breath.

“Hey,” Andrew said.

They stayed like that for a beat, neither of them moving, the noise of the party blurring into something distant and unimportant.

Neil leaned back just enough to speak. “This wasn’t exactly planned,” he said, nodding vaguely toward the chaos around them. “Dan found out an hour ago that her promotion got denied.”

Andrew’s thumb pressed lightly where it rested against Neil’s side. He nodded once.

“So,” Neil continued, “she decided that was rude of the universe and responded accordingly.” He gestured around them. “We’ve spent the last hour buying as much alcohol as we could carry.”

Andrew nodded again.

Neil’s eyes flicked around the room, then back to Anderw. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

“Yes,” Andrew said immediately.

Neil let out a soft, breathy laugh, letting Andrew guide him backward by the waist. He steered them through the room, bodies close enough that they bumped occasionally, steps half out of sync because neither of them was willing to create distance.

When they reached the apartment door, Neil leaned in again, even closer than before.

“You smell really nice,” he said, voice low.

Andrew looked at him, met his eyes properly this time, let the side of his mouth lift slowly, deliberate.

Neil just shrugged, hint of a smile lingering.

“Let’s get out of here,” Andrew said, equally low.

He turned Neil around, hand still at his waist, opening the door with his other hand—

“Neil!” Two women walked toward them, one had her arm around the other’s waist, guiding her carefully, both of them looking exhausted. “Could we lie down in your bedroom for a bit? It’s really loud in here.”

Neil hesitated. Blinked. Looked between them.

“Uh,” he said. “Yeah. I guess.”

Andrew let Neil step away from him as they crossed into Neil’s apartment together, the girls disappearing down the hallway almost immediately. 

The closed apartment door cut off the worst of the noise. Neil’s living room was almost quiet. 

They looked at each other.

Neil tilted his head. “Do you want to go back?”

Andrew glanced toward the door, then back at Neil.

“Not particularly.”

“Couch?”

“Yes.”

Neil dropped onto one end of the small two-seater, already at ease. Andrew followed immediately, pressing one knee into the cushion beside Neil’s thigh, close enough that their legs brushed. One hand braced against the back of the couch, the other moved to the armrest, effectively boxing Neil in.

People in the bedroom be damned.

Neil was watching him, face tipped up toward him, eyes bright. Andrew leaned in, the distance between them disappearing.

The apartment door flew open.

“NEIL!” Matt yelled, stumbling through the doorway like a force of nature. “There you are! We’re playing Twister, you have to be on my team!”

They both froze.

After an agonizing beat, with Matt still staring at them expectantly, Andrew twisted and let himself fall back into the couch cushions beside Neil. His thigh ended up pressed against Neil’s as he stared at Matt in disbelief. Then he looked at Neil.

He had a very bad feeling about what was about to happen.

They had been so close.

Neil turned to him, already apologetic. “Do you like Twister?”

Andrew exhaled through his nose. “Not particularly.”

That earned him a soft, genuine laugh from Neil, like they hadn’t just been interrupted. Again.

“You could… watch me?” Neil offered. “I’m very bad at it.”

The mental image of Neil bending and stretching softened the blow enough for Andrew to accept the invitation.

“…Fine,” he said.

Matt was already halfway down the hall, yelling, “NEIL IS COMING!”

I wish.

The thought almost made him snort.

Neil pushed himself off the couch, turning back toward Andrew with a look that seemed to mirror his thoughts. Andrew held his gaze as he followed more slowly.

With a deep sigh, Neil finally turned around to follow Matt out of the apartment, Andrew trailing behind.

Twister was pure chaos.

Andrew ended up perched on the arm of the couch while Neil and Matt failed spectacularly for the better part of half an hour. At some point, someone Andrew didn’t know and had no interest in knowing shoved the spinner into his hands.

“Your turn!”

Andrew spun. Called out a color. After a few rounds, he stopped caring and started making them up, aiming for anything that might end the game faster.

No one noticed.

When Matt finally collapsed in defeat, someone suggested karaoke. Neil was dragged into it immediately — laughing, protesting, then giving in. People pulled him left and right. Andrew sidestepped every attempt to involve him with the practiced ease of someone who had mastered the art of polite nonparticipation.

Eventually, the crowd thinned.

Neil reappeared at Andrew’s side, expression intent. “Are Sara and Laila back?”

Before Andrew could process the question, Matt popped up again. “Don’t worry! You can crash on the couch!”

“Uhm…,” Neil looked at Andrew, uncertain, “Do you…?”

Andrew checked his phone. Past eleven. He didn’t see a clear path from here to having Neil to himself.

“It’s fine,” he said, sighing. “I’ll head home.”

Neil frowned. “But it’s late.”

“You’re always welcome to crash on the floor!” Matt added enthusiastically. “In fact — fort!”

He was already off, gathering blankets and pillows like a man possessed.

Andrew shook his head. “It’s really fine.”

Neil walked him to the door. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “Tonight was… not what I thought it’d be. Are you sure you’re okay driving?”

“Yeah,” Andrew said. “Have fun with your fort.”

Neil tried for a laugh, then gave up with a sigh. “Yeah.”

They lingered there for a moment, close, neither quite ready to move.

From somewhere inside the apartment, Dan yelled, “Why do you need all the blankets?!”

Andrew huffed. “I think that’s my cue.”

Neil’s mouth tilted downward. “Yeah. Okay. See you?”

Andrew nodded and stepped back, walking backward slowly, eyes locked on Neil until he reached the corner by the elevator. Before turning away, he raised his eyebrows in challenge, one corner of his mouth lifting.

Neil’s answering smile came slower. 

They had been so close. They both knew it.

Only after Andrew had stepped inside the elevator and the doors began to close did he hear the apartment door click shut.

“This is very confusing.”

“Yes.”

“He invited you.”

“Yes.”

“But then spent time with his friends instead.”

“Not by choice.” Andrew defended. “They just pulled him in.”

“I thought he was an adult.”

“He is.” Andrew looked at Kevin over his shoulder, confused.

“But you're saying he has no autonomy to tell his friends no.”

Andrew blinked down at the cutting board, knife paused mid cut. Slowly, he said, “He does.”

Kevin nodded, leaning forward on the kitchen chair from where he was watching Andrew making dinner for the two of them in Kevin’s tiny kitchen. “Have you considered that Neil might simply be playing with your heart because he is a terrible person.”

Andrew snorted, eyes still on the cutting board. “That seems dramatic.”

“In the animal kingdom,” Kevin said, seizing the opening, “male bowerbirds construct elaborate displays to attract females and then abandon them purely for entertainment.”

Andrew blinked. “We’re not birds.”

“Humans are animals,” Kevin said immediately.

“Sure,” Andrew said. “Small issue: This is not about my heart. It’s about my d—”

“In anglerfish,” Kevin continued, undeterred, “the male permanently attaches himself to the female, loses all autonomy, and eventually dissolves into her bloodstream.”

Andrew stared at him over his shoulder. “Fascinating.”

“I know,” Kevin said. “I read a book about it last week.”

“You don’t say.”

“The safest course of action,” Kevin concluded, sitting back, “is to cut all contact. Otherwise you will follow the anglerfish example and die.” After a moment, he added matter of fact, “Just like everything in your low-orbit Titan tests.”

“I don’t think Neil is going to kill me,” Andrew said, sliding vegetables into the pan. “And those are just parameter issues.”

“Fine. It’s your life you're throwing away.” Kevin shrugged. “Before you die, at least fix your model.”

“It’s fine. I’m in early testing. Any results are premature.”

“It’s been four years.”

“Exactly.”

Kevin stared at him. Andrew stared back.

“I don’t think four years qualifies as premature.”

“I just said it does.”

Another beat.

“What if you never find the solution?”

“It’s a technical issue. If the engineers did their job properly, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

Kevin tilted his head. “Aren’t you an engineer?”

“I’m a physicist.”

Kevin made a vague so-so gesture. Before Andrew could say anything, he declared, “So you’ve wasted four years and achieved nothing.”

“Have you delivered world peace yet?”

Kevin frowned. “No?”

“So you’ve wasted four years and achieved nothing.”

“That’s not a fair comparison.”

“Life’s not fair.”

Kevin considered this. “Then it’s good that yours will be over soon.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Neil is not going to kill me.”

“Not if you establish boundaries,” Kevin said firmly. “Otherwise he will keep stringing you along like a puppy.”

Andrew paused mid-chop. “A puppy.”

“Yes.” Kevin leaned forward, suddenly animated. “Young dogs don’t understand leash mechanics. They follow movement. They don’t know where they’re going. And because of their low body mass, they are easily pulled.”

Andrew set the knife down carefully. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Boundaries are healthy,” Kevin pressed on. “They will stop Neil from using you.”

“Use me for what?”

“How would I know,” Kevin said. “I don’t manipulate people for my entertainment.”

Andrew dumped the remaining vegetables into the pan. “Ah. So this is about Thea.”

Kevin bristled. “Nothing I said had anything to do with me and Thea.”

“Eh.”

“This is like if we were discussing horses,” Kevin said, irritated, “and you suddenly brought up apples.”

“Horses eat apples.”

“Everyone eats apples.”

Andrew nodded solemnly.

Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I had said we were talking about mountains, you would have said apples grow on mountains.”

“I mean,” Andrew said mildly, “they can.”

“That is not the point.”

“Eh.”

Kevin breathed out through his nose, visibly reining himself in.

Andrew raised an eyebrow and waited.

Kevin folded.

“We were talking about peace.”

“Of course.”

“She wasn’t listening,” Kevin said, frustration spilling over. “She kept insisting that war is unavoidable.”

Andrew nodded. “Very defeatist.”

“Exactly.” Kevin pushed his chair back an inch, momentum building. “And when I explained that security studies overemphasizes deterrence without accounting for escalation dynamics—”

“Provocation,” Andrew supplied, having heard this argument a dozen times before.

“Yes!” Kevin shot to his feet. “Preemptive militarization as a recognized provocation. That’s what I said.”

He started pacing.

“But she wouldn’t let me finish. She kept interrupting to repeat that war is inevitable. As if inevitability is an argument.”

Andrew stirred, entertained.

“I tried to explain that inevitability is often a retrospective narrative,” Kevin continued, voice rising, “not a predictive certainty. That once you frame conflict as unavoidable, you remove agency from political actors entirely.”

Andrew hummed.

“And then,” Kevin said, hands slicing the air, “she said I was being idealistic. Idealistic. As if empirical critique equals naïveté.”

He stopped pacing and looked at Andrew.

“And I wasn’t even finished making my point.”

“She interrupted you,” Andrew said.

“Yes!” Kevin threw his hands up. “Exactly. Every time.”

Andrew pulled two plates from the cupboard.

“If she doesn’t believe peace is achievable,” Kevin said quietly, “what does that say about our future?”

Andrew hummed, portioning food.

“How can I be in a relationship,” Kevin asked, forlorn, “with someone who doesn’t believe I can bring about world peace?”

“That,” Andrew said as he glanced at Kevin, “does sound difficult.”

Kevin groaned and collapsed back into his chair.

Andrew turned back to the stove.

And, despite himself, he thought about what Kevin had said earlier.

Neil could have stopped his friends.

He hadn’t.

What that meant, Andrew had no idea.

Neil texted him when Andrew was just getting ready for a quiet evening, King already rolled into a donut on her side of the couch.

Apparently, he was at the bar down the street.

Andrew stared at the message for a second, then typed back.

Andrew: Come over.

Desperate? Maybe. Andrew no longer cared.

The reply came fast.

Neil: It’s Matt’s birthday, can’t leave.

Of course it was.

A moment later:

Neil: Come here?

Andrew stared at the screen for a long moment before looking around the living room, from Sir sleeping in the cat tree to King who had started to watch him impatiently. 

Kevin’s words about boundaries rang somewhere in the back of his head, annoying and unwanted.

Breathing out slowly, he decided that this was fine. If this was what Neil wanted, then that was fine. Andrew wasn’t going to complicate things.

He forced any thoughts of having Neil to himself, of taking their time, out of his head.

Bar bathroom it was.

It was fine.

When he arrived, the place was loud and dim and packed. Neil and his friends were clustered toward the back. Andrew clocked Allison first, then Seth, Dan leaning against the wall with a drink in hand, and finally Matt in the middle of it all, already loud and red-faced and celebratory.

Neil spotted him immediately.

A big smile lit up his face, waving Andrew over with unmistakable enthusiasm. As soon as Andrew was close, he reached out and caught his wrist, tugging him gently out of the current of people and into a pocket of space near the wall.

“Hi,” Neil said, close enough that Andrew could hear him without shouting.

“Hey,” Andrew said back, helplessly getting stuck in Neil’s blue eyes.

They stood there.

No move toward the bar. No hand tugging him closer. No whispered suggestion of anywhere quieter. Neil just… looked at him. Focused. Like Andrew was the only thing happening in the room.

Andrew waited a beat. Then another.

Still nothing.

So Andrew closed the distance himself, setting a hand at Neil’s waist. Neil leaned in without hesitation, shoulders brushing, their foreheads almost lining up.

Good. There it is.

Except it wasn’t.

They started talking.

Neil asked about Andrew’s work and listened with an interest that felt genuine, eyes bright, mouth curving every time Andrew said something even mildly amusing. Andrew asked about Neil’s day, about something he’d mentioned weeks ago. Neil answered easily, leaning a little closer when the music spiked.

At one point Neil told him about something ridiculous he’d heard on the radio, about a man who’d tried to smuggle a goat onto public transport. Neil was halfway through the story when he had to pause to laugh at his own retelling, eyes never leaving Andrew’s.

Andrew didn’t remember the details later.

Only the way Neil kept looking at him. The way he kept leaning in, voice warm, smiling like this — this exact moment — was exactly where he wanted to be.

Andrew’s hand stayed at his waist. Neil didn’t move away.

And somehow this never went anywhere.

They just kept talking.

It was… nice. Easy. Comfortable in a way that didn’t require effort.

Which should have been good.

Instead, Andrew felt the ground slowly slipping sideways.

At some point, Neil paused. “Do you want a drink?”

Andrew felt a spark of relief. Finally.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks.”

“I’ll get it,” Neil said immediately. “Don’t move.”

And then he left.

Blinking at the spot where Neil had stood seconds ago, he stayed exactly where he was, because he had been told not to move and apparently he followed orders now. 

He stood there, hands loose at his sides, watching Neil’s back as he navigated the crowd. 

He told himself he was being ridiculous. He was not a puppy. He was not an anglerfish that was slowly dissolving.

Neil came back with two drinks and the same warm smile.

Andrew accepted his glass, searching Neil’s face for something. A shift. A tell. Anything.

There was nothing.

Matt barreled over moments later, slinging an arm around Neil’s shoulders and shouting something about darts. Neil huffed out a laugh, more fond than annoyed, and let himself be pulled along. Dan leaned in too, her arm draped comfortably across Neil’s back.

Andrew took a step back without entirely realizing he was doing it.

This, he thought distantly, might be the friendzone.

The realization landed quietly. No drama. No anger. Just a strange, hollow click, like something sliding into place where it didn’t quite belong.

How the hell had he ended up here?

They spilled out of the bar together later, Matt fully drunk now, hanging off Neil while they waited for an Uber. When the car pulled up, Neil looked back one last time, bright and open even as Matt shoved him toward the door.

“Text me!” he called.

“Yeah,” Andrew said quietly.

The car pulled away, Neil still half-turned toward the window.

Andrew stood there for a moment longer than necessary.

Friendzone, he thought. 

And he’d walked right into it.

The book club dispersed one by one after everyone had paid for their lunch at their usual restaurant, just like it always did.

Chairs scraped. Someone was still arguing about whether the ending had been hopeful or manipulative. Renee tucked her scarf around her neck as they stepped out into the cool night air, breath turning faintly visible.

Andrew checked his phone without thinking.

The movement didn’t escape Renee.

“Is that him?” she asked lightly.

He shrugged, aiming for casual. 

Walking beside him, Renee smiled, patient and annoyingly observant. “You should bring him next time. I’d love to meet him properly.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “He can’t read.”

Renee blinked. “Texting must be very difficult for him, then.”

“We just send dick pics,” Andrew replied evenly.

A soft laugh escaped her.

His phone vibrated in his hand.

Renee arched a brow.

Andrew glanced down.

Neil: Want to watch a movie tonight?

He thought about it for a moment. Tried to read what Neil’s angle was. A movie? Or a “movie.”

Shaking his head at himself, he typed back as they reached the car.

Andrew: Early lecture tomorrow.

The reply came almost immediately.

Neil: Takeout and an early one? 

Neil: Unless you want a quiet evening?

Andrew stared at the screen for half a second too long.

Beside him, Renee said innocently, “It must be quite the collection.”

He shot her a look.

She only smiled, sliding into the passenger seat while he walked around to the driver’s side.

The engine hummed as they pulled away from the curb.

“I think it’s great,” Renee said after a moment, looking out the window. “That you met someone you enjoy.”

“Who says I’m enjoying myself.”

“Your face when you read his texts,” she replied calmly. “Or photos, I suppose.”

Andrew tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Silence stretched comfortably for a few seconds before he said, almost reluctantly, “Kevin thinks I’m in the friendzone.”

Renee glanced over. “Would that be so bad?”

“It’s not what I want.”

“Because you want more.”

“You make it sound like I want to date him.”

“Which you don’t.”

“Right. I don’t.”

Renee nodded once. “But you don’t want to be just friends.”

Andrew hesitated a beat too long, so Renee kept probing, “You just want a hookup.”

“Yes.”

“One?”

“Sure.”

“And then never see him again.”

Andrew frowned. “I guess.”

Renee’s smile turned knowing.

“Or,” Andrew amended quickly, “we do it a few times.”

“Interesting.”

“Why.”

“You don’t usually want to see the same guy twice.”

“I don’t.”

“Or five times.”

“That’s not what this is.”

Renee let the silence stretch.

Andrew cleared his throat. “Kevin also thinks I need to set boundaries.”

Renee turned toward him properly now. “Boundaries.”

“He says Neil’s stringing me along.” He made a small dismissive gesture. “That I’m being manipulated.”

“And do you think that?”

Andrew scoffed lightly. “No.”

Renee hummed, then added, “What would those boundaries look like?”

Andrew stared at the red light ahead of them, shrugged. “I don’t know. Not going when he calls, I guess. Not texting first. Not…” He trailed off.

“Not caring?”

“I don’t care.”

Renee didn’t respond to that.

He shifted in his seat. “It’s not like I have feelings for him.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“And he’s not manipulating me. He’s not… mean like that. I think.”

“So what is it, then?”

Andrew exhaled slowly. “I don’t know.”

That was the part he didn’t like.

He didn’t know.

Kevin’s version of the story was simple: Neil either wants him or he doesn’t. If he doesn’t, withdraw. Protect yourself.

Andrew had rolled his eyes, nodded. It made sense, objectively.

But when he pictured actually pulling back, actually refusing the next invite, actually stepping away—

Something in his chest tightened.

Renee watched him quietly. “Are you sure being friends would be so bad?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Because you like spending time with him.”

“He’s fine.”

“Just fine?”

Andrew shot her a look. “What are you saying.”

“That you like spending time with him.”

“Yes. So?”

She let the silence hang for a moment.

“Maybe,” she finally said gently, “you should think about how you can spend more time with the person you like spending time with.”

“I have. That’s why I keep trying to hook up.”

“Except you haven’t slept together.”

Andrew exhaled. “Yes.”

“What if Neil doesn’t want that anymore?” she asked quietly. “Would you still want to see him?”

Andrew’s jaw tightened. “So you think I’m in the friendzone too.”

“I’m not thinking anything,” Renee said softly. “I don’t know him.”

“You’re not being helpful.”

“I’m sorry.” She turned toward him fully now. “I can see this is bothering you.”

He let out a long breath. “It’s fine.”

Renee didn’t argue.

“I think what you and Neil have,” she said after a moment, “seems like a good thing.”

Andrew huffed lightly. “What we have.”

“Yes.”

“We don’t have anything.”

“Don’t you?”

He glanced at her.

“You mean,” he said carefully, “friendship.”

Renee hummed noncommittally.

The word hit heavier than Andrew expected.

Friends.

He imagined it — the same evenings, the same easy conversation, the same closeness. Just without the tension. Without the possibility.

His chest hollowed.

“I don’t know,” he said finally.

They pulled up outside her building.

Andrew shifted the car into park but neither of them moved.

“What if that’s not what I want.”

“Then you should tell him.”

“What if he wants something else.”

“All the more reason to tell him.”

“What if we want different things.”

“Then that’s what it is.”

He was quiet for a long time.

“What if I ruin what we have,” he asked finally, voice lower, “by asking for more.”

“More what?”

Andrew opened his mouth. Closed it.

“I don’t know.”

Renee’s voice softened further. “Maybe you should figure that out before you talk to him.”

He stared through the windshield at nothing in particular.

“Stupid cats,” he muttered. “Stupid plants. This could’ve been easy.”

“Done and gone,” Renee said.

“Yes.”

She studied him.

“Is that what you want?”

Andrew didn’t answer right away.

“It’s what I wanted,” he said finally.

“But not now.”

He swallowed.

“I don’t know.” He felt like a broken record.

Renee reached for the door handle, then paused.

“For what it’s worth,” she said gently, “I don’t think you’re being manipulated. I think you’re confused. Which is new for you. And that’s okay.”

Andrew didn’t answer.

She stepped out onto the sidewalk, shutting the door softly.

Andrew watched her disappear inside the building, hands resting on the steering wheel, the engine still running.

He didn’t move.

The street was quiet. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. A couple passed outside his car.

He could still hear Renee’s voice in his head.

You’re confused.

That, at least, felt accurate.

Andrew leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

Neil wasn’t supposed to be confusing.

This was supposed to be simple.

He wanted to go back to the version of himself who would have scoffed at the whole thing and walked away without a second thought.

“I don’t know what I want,” he muttered into the empty car for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

The words felt heavier than they should have.

After another minute, he shifted the car into drive.

He was tired of thinking.

*

His apartment door shut behind him with a soft click. The quiet wrapped around him — familiar, steady. King lifted her head from the couch arm. Sir blinked down from the cat tree like Andrew had interrupted something important.

Andrew stood in the middle of the living room with his phone still in his hand.

He could hear Renee’s voice in his head.

Figure out what you want.

He looked down at the screen.

Want to watch a movie tonight?

Andrew stared at their message thread.

He didn’t know what he wanted.

He did know he was tired of not knowing.

Before he could overthink it, he typed.

Andrew: Sounds good. Come over?

He hit send.

Immediately regretted it.

His heart thudded once — hard — in his chest.

This is not what boundaries looked like.

Neil replied almost at once.

Neil: On my way 🙂

Andrew stared at the smiley face longer than necessary.

He looked around his apartment as if it might offer guidance.

“What have I done,” he muttered.

King stretched luxuriously and resettled. Sir yawned.

Not helpful.

*

Neil arrived half an hour later with chinese takeout and that infuriatingly easy smile.

He stepped inside with a familiarity that was annoyingly calming for Andrew’s nerves. They’ve been here before. This wasn’t new. Yet somehow, there was something different tonight.

Quieter. Softer.

Maybe it was the lack of fire alarms.

“Hi,” Neil said, shrugging out of his jacket.

“Hey.”

Neil crouched immediately when King approached, offering his hand for her to sniff before scratching under her chin.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice warm.

Andrew would have liked to correct him. King was not good. King was a menace. But King leaned into the affection, purring loudly, and Andrew let it go.

Sir watched from the cat tree, unimpressed but not fleeing.

“That one’s judging me,” Neil said, glancing up.

“He does that.”

Neil smiled up at him, open and unguarded. Andrew didn’t know what to do with that.

They settled on the couch with their food. One of the blankets ended up on Neil’s lap. A show they’d talked about last night queued up, the last few episodes of some Netflix documentary they’d both been watching separately.

Andrew didn’t really pay attention to which episode started.

All his attention was on Neil.

The way he sank into the cushions, how he tucked one leg under himself, shoulder bumping Andrew’s once, twice, until they settled with their arms pressed lightly together.

He didn’t move away.

Andrew felt the contact like static.

“You good?” Andrew asked quietly.

Neil glanced over, soft smile returning easily.

“Yeah,” he said.

Andrew nodded once, forced himself to look at the TV.

Quick scene changes flickered across the screen in front of them. Someone narrating. Dramatic music swelled.

Andrew couldn’t help himself, his eyes returning to Neil beside him. 

He watched the way the light from the screen caught in his hair. The way his chest moved with every slow breath. The way he burrowed deeper into the couch, relaxed in a way that felt genuine.

The way his shoulder leaned more fully into Andrew’s.

Andrew’s thoughts circled.

This was not a hookup.

He knew that.

This was warm. Calm. Easy.

And that was the problem.

When had this stopped being about attraction?

Or worse — when had it become about something else?

He wondered, distantly, when Neil had stopped thinking of him as someone he wanted.

He wondered what he had become in Neil’s eyes instead.

The thought lodged somewhere uncomfortable.

“Neil.”

Andrew hadn’t meant to say it out loud but Neil turned his head immediately, eyes expectant.

The TV noise faded into background static.

Don’t ruin this.

They had something. Whatever it was.

It wasn’t what Andrew had expected.

But it was… good.

Don’t ruin it.

They held each other’s gaze.

Warm. Close. Neither in a hurry to break it.

Don’t ruin it.

What if Neil didn’t want more?

Don’t ruin it.

What if he never had?

Don’t ruin it.

It would be so easy to let this stay what it was. Comfortable. Undefined. Safe.

Don’t ruin it.

Andrew’s chest felt tight.

He was so tired of not knowing.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words left his mouth before he could reconsider.

For a fraction of a second, Neil’s face went still.

His mouth parted, a soft, surprised “oh.”

Then he pulled back, sat up straighter.

The space between them cooled instantly.

Andrew felt it like ice water down his spine.

He’d ruined it.