Chapter One – Night Shift
You’d think a college athlete with a full scholarship wouldn’t need to burn the midnight oil finishing essays in the computer lab, but there I was again—long past midnight, hunched over my laptop under harsh fluorescent lights. The place was mostly empty, just the soft hum of the printers and the occasional shuffle of feet in the hallway.
I guess the truth was, I didn’t just come here for the quiet. I liked the way the night made everything feel a little less defined. During the day, I had a role to play as a team leader, easygoing guy, the kind of dude who dated girls and crushed batting averages. But after dark, with nothing but the keyboard and the glow of my screen, I could stop pretending for a while. No forced smiles. No “bro talk” with guys in the locker room I couldn’t relate to. Just me. Jason McNeil. Twenty-two. Tired. And quietly lost in more ways than I’d ever admit out loud.
I tugged the brim of my baseball cap down over my forehead, rubbing the back of my neck. My team logo—navy and silver, embroidered sharp and clean—was something I wore every day, almost like armor. People saw the cap and knew who I was. Or at least, who they thought I was.
The door to the computer lab creaked open.
At first, I didn’t look up. Just figured it was another student coming in late. But the footsteps were different. Heavier. Slower. A pause at the threshold. Then a soft jingle of keys and the low murmur of a radio. I glanced up, curious.
A campus police officer had stepped inside.
He wasn’t what I expected. Not stiff or overbearing. Late twenties maybe, with cropped brown hair, a bold jawline, and a body that looked similar mine. He was athletic and solid, built from routine rather than vanity. His navy jacket was zipped halfway up, the name tag catching the light: Carter.
His eyes scanned the room once, then landed on me. He gave a nod.
“You all set in here?” he asked. His voice was calm and steady, friendly but alert.
“Yeah,” I replied, tugging out one earbud. “Just finishing up a paper.”
He stepped a little closer, hands resting easily on his gun belt. “Late night.”
I shrugged. “They all are this semester.”
His gaze went to the cap I was wearing. “You’re on the baseball team, right?”
“Shortstop,” I said with a small grin. “Guess the cap gives me away.”
He smiled too, just slightly. “It does. I’ve seen you around campus. You’ve got a good stance.”
That caught me off guard. “You watch the games?”
“Now and then. You guys have a solid lineup this year.”
I leaned back in my chair, studying him a bit more now. There was an ease to the way he spoke, like nothing ever surprised him too much. His badge felt more like a detail than a barrier.
“I’m Officer Matt Carter,” he said, offering a hand.
I stood and shook it. His grip was firm, his hand warm and dry.
“Jason McNeil.”
“Nice to meet you, Jason. Just doing my rounds. I have to lock this building down soon. Didn’t mean to interrupt your grind.”
“No worries,” I said. “Appreciate you checking in.”
He nodded, but didn’t move right away. He looked around, then back at me. “You’re usually here around this time, huh? I’ve seen you here several times.”
I blinked. “Yeah. Guess I like the peace and quiet.”
“Me too,” he said. Then, after a beat: “Do you usually walk back to your dorm alone after this?”
“Usually.”
His expression softened, but there was a flicker of seriousness in his tone. “If you ever want someone to walk with you, just say the word. Nights aren’t always predictable or safe on campus. Not even for an athlete like you.”
I hesitated. “Thanks. That’s good to know. If I feel uneasy, I’ll let you know.”
He gave one last nod and turned toward the door. Just before stepping out, he glanced over his shoulder. “See you around, Jason.”
And he was gone.
_________________
Four nights later, I saw him again.
He looked right at me and smiled. “You’re becoming part of the furniture.”
I grinned. “And you’re becoming part of the routine.”
He walked over and nodded at the chair beside me. “Routine is part of my job. Mind if I sit for a bit?”
“Be my guest.”
He eased into the seat, and for a while we just talked. He told me more about his background—born and raised in western Massachusetts, two brothers, small town vibe. He’d gone to a local college, worked some private security gigs, and ended up on campus police about three years ago.
“I like the environment,” he said. “You meet all kinds of people. Most of the time, it’s pretty quiet.”
“Except for the occasional drunk freshman,” I offered.
“Mostly,” he said with a grin.
Eventually, he stood to leave. “Next time you’re out this late, let me know. I could use some company during my rounds.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You offering me a ride-along?”
He grinned. “Only if you promise not to get me written up.”
_________________
That ride-along happened two nights later. I texted him—just a simple “Hey, still on patrol?”—and within five minutes, he pulled up.
The first fifteen minutes were mostly silent. We cruised slowly past the dorms. I watched him as he drove—one hand on the wheel, eyes scanning the sidewalks with casual precision.
“You take this job pretty seriously,” I said.
“I care about the people here,” he said. “That includes you.”
My throat tightened.
He parked near the old library. We sat in silence for a while.
“Can I ask you something?” I said.
“Sure.”
“While you’re patrolling this campus, do you ever feel like you’re doing what you were meant for?”
He was quiet for a long time. Then he said, “Yeah. Sometimes.”
I turned toward him. His face was in shadow, but his eyes were steady.
“I feel like all I’m doing in college might be a waste. I don’t know what I want to do with my life and this is just taking up time. At least I’m in my senior year.”
Matt continued to look at me. A thorough once over and then his eyes locked on mine.
“Jason, I don’t think you’re wasting your time. Maybe you haven’t decided what you want to do yet, but the education is important. Who knows, you might go for the Major League or maybe you’ll take another direction entirely. I think I’m getting to know you, Jason,” he said quietly. “Not the shortstop. Not the golden boy. Just you. There’s more to you than you let on.”
His words touched me inside. I felt like he knew things I hadn’t told him. I also sensed more than a passing interest from him.
That night, something shifted. The friendship intensified.
Chapter Two – Ride-Along
That Thursday night started like any other late shift. Matt had texted around 10:45: "Got the late shift. You up for a walk?" And that was all it took. No matter how tired I was, or how sore my legs felt after double practice, I never hesitated when I saw his name pop up. Matt had become a constant, a quiet thread woven into my nights. There was a rhythm to it now. The patrol car pulling up, the door creaking open, and that crooked smile that always made me feel like a friend.
I threw on jeans, my school hoodie, and my baseball cap. A little part of me hoped he liked that I wore it every time. As I stepped outside into the cool, damp night, the campus felt hushed. Fog hovered, glowing faintly under the lamplight. I spotted the cruiser as it rounded the corner, headlights cutting through the mist.
Matt leaned across the seat and opened the door. "I think you must be thinking about becoming a cop. Are you thinking about that, shortstop?"
"It kinda feels like it," I said, sliding in and buckling up. “I feel like I’m learning more from you than from a lot of my professors. I really enjoy spending time with you as you work.” The warmth of the cabin hit me instantly, bringing with it the familiar scent of leather, a trace of coffee, and whatever subtle cologne he wore.
He gave me a quick glance as he pulled away from the curb. "How was practice? Things are winding down for the season aren’t they?"
"It was rough today. Coach keeps us working pretty much all year. He has us running infield drills like we're trying out for the Yankees. I’m gonna feel it tomorrow."
"Gotta keep that arm and glove sharp, huh?"
"Shortstop’s a pressure spot," I said. "If I screw up, it’s two runs and a chewing out from Coach Rivas."
"Sounds like my job. One wrong call and I wind up in a meeting with my Chief and the Dean."
I smiled at that. The cruiser cruised slowly around the perimeter of the science buildings. Every so often, Matt would radio in his position or wave at a lone student cutting across the quad. I liked seeing him like this. Focused. Comfortable. In control.
"So what's the weirdest thing you've seen on patrol?" I asked.
Matt chuckled. "That’s a long list. Last fall, some guys tried to smuggle a keg into the student center using a stretcher from the Infirmary. They wrapped it in a blanket like it was a sick friend."
I burst out laughing. "Creative."
"They even pretended to cry when I stopped them. One guy tried to give it CPR."
"Please tell me you have body cam footage."
"I wish. That’s just one of those moments you have to live to appreciate. It’s recorded in my memory."
We looped past the main library. Matt parked near the lower quad and shut off the engine. He reached for his thermos and offered it to me.
"Try it. Black with a splash of hazelnut."
I took a sip and nodded. "Damn. Better than the student center coffee."
He grinned. "I don't mess around when it comes to caffeine."
There was a pause. Not uncomfortable, just heavy with something unspoken. I leaned back, raising the brim of my cap a little.
"You always wanted to be a cop?"
"Not always," he said. "I wanted to be a firefighter when I was a kid. But I get claustrophobic in the breathing gear. I found out the hard way in a volunteer program."
"So law enforcement was the next best thing?"
"Sort of. I like helping people. I like watching out for trouble. I have good observation skills, plus I’m good with routines. I find comfort in structure."
"I get that," I said. "Baseball’s like that. Every pitch, every shift, it’s a pattern. You read the batter, the count, the signals. It’s about being where you need to be."
Matt looked over at me then, eyes lingering. "You sound like someone who lives in their head more than people think. Makes me wonder what else goes on in the noggin."
"Yeah. I guess that’s fair."
His gaze drifted to my cap. He reached out, surprising me, and pushed the brim up gently with his finger.
"You're always wearing that thing."
I smirked. "Part of the uniform."
He reached behind his seat and pulled out his police cap. He looked at it for a second, then held it out. "Wanna try mine on? You can be my honorary patrol partner."
I blinked. "You serious?"
"Sure. Try it on."
I hesitated, then took off my cap and set it on the dashboard. Then I took his uniform hat from his hand and slid it on. It fit perfectly. Felt solid. Official. I caught my reflection in the side mirror and the dark blue hat above my eyes changed my whole appearance.
"You pull it off pretty well," he said.
"Guess I’m on duty now."
He chuckled, but I noticed the way he looked at me. Like he wasn’t just amused. It looked almost like longing.
I flipped my own baseball cap toward him. "Here. Gotta balance things out."
He caught it and examined it before putting it on. “This thing is spotless. No sweat stains. I don’t know how you keep it so clean.”
“I’m kind of a clean freak. My body, my uniforms, everything has to be perfectly clean or I don’t feel right about it. I don’t like how so many students wear dirty, smelly clothes. If my cap gets dirty, I wash it. Then I wear it while it dries so it keeps the correct fit. Call me weird if you want but I’m just funny about some things and cleanliness is one of them.”
He looked natural wearing my cap. Like he’d worn it a hundred times. “I understand. I’m a clean freak too. I never wear the same uniform twice. I wear a fresh one each shift. I’m kind of a clean freak too. I guess we have that in common. So how do I look in your cap?"
"Like you’re about to steal second."
He gave me a slow smile, eyes locked on mine. Unspoken words passed between us in that look. That was the moment it shifted. Again. Whatever line there had been between us got a little thinner. Wearing each other’s caps somehow bonded us in a new way.
We walked the campus together. He let me carry the flashlight, gave me tips on checking doors and spotting suspicious activity. I played the role of campus cop with enthusiasm, and he played along like it was the most natural thing in the world.
When we returned to the cruiser, I slipped his cap off slowly, holding it in my lap.
"Thanks for that," I said.
He nodded. "I’ll let you wear it again sometime."
And I did. The next one. Then a few nights later. Before long, it got to be a joke between us when we swapped caps. It always fit. Always felt right. And he’d sometimes wear my baseball cap like it was part of his uniform.
Chapter Three – More Than Clothing
A few weeks later, the rain was steady. A fine mist that made the sidewalks shimmer. I waited under the eaves of the rec center, hoping to see Matt. My hoodie was damp at the shoulders, and I kept checking the time.
At exactly 11:02, the cruiser pulled up. Matt rolled the window down. "Still in uniform, I see."
"Team policy. Represent the team even off the field."
He smiled. "Get in, smartass."
Inside, the heat blasted. I exhaled into my hands and rubbed them together.
"You cold?"
"A little."
He reached behind him and pulled his patrol jacket off the seat. "Here."
"You sure?"
"I’ve got on a t-shirt, my ballistic vest and my uniform. I’m plenty warm. Here, put it on."
I took it without protest. Slid my arms into it. Heavy, lined, warm. The patch on the sleeve looked sharp under the dashboard lights. It had his scent in it. I felt different in it. More present. More tuned to Matt.
Matt gave me a long look. "You know, you really do wear that well. Maybe you should be a cop."
His compliment raised a want, a need in me that I didn’t want to show. I met his eyes and held them as I said, "Thanks."
We parked near the quad and walked together. Me in his jacket and hat. Him in my cap. The mist clung to everything, softening edges, muting the world. Our shoulders brushed now and then.
We talked about movies, family, life outside of sports and law enforcement. He told me about growing up with brothers, always being the mediator. I told him how I used to sneak into my older cousin’s room and try on his old varsity jacket when no one was home and how I’d always felt drawn toward uniforms.
He didn’t laugh.
"You ever tell anyone that?" he asked.
"No. Not even my cousin."
"Then I’m honored that you felt comfortable enough to share it with me."
We paused near a darkened academic building. The moment stretched.
"Matt..." I began, voice quieter than I meant.
He turned to me.
"I’ve been thinking about you. Maybe too much."
He didn’t look surprised. Just calm. Sure.
"Me too. Since the first night. You’re a great guy and I’m glad to know you. I think I have feelings for you too."
I swallowed hard. "I don’t know what to do with it."
"We don’t have to do anything. Not until we’re both ready. We’re friends now so we just let things play out."
But in that quiet moment, we both knew we were getting very close.
Back in the car, I kept his jacket on. When we pulled up outside my dorm, he didn’t ask for it back but I took it off and tossed it and his uniform hat in the car as I got out. I grinned at him and said, “Next time, I want the full uniform.”
Matt grinned. "Not on your life, shortstop! I’m the cop.” Then he tossed my cap back to me.
I put my cap on, feeling his warmth inside it. As I walked away, I didn’t feel like I was pretending anymore. And I didn’t feel so alone with my desires. I knew I wanted to be with Matt.
Chapter Four – Confession
The next few weeks passed in a blur of cold nights, patrol rides, and private moments that hummed with something deeper than either of us could name. Outwardly, we were just two guys walking a campus. A student helping out, a cop doing his job. But under the surface, it felt like we were writing a story only we understood with a quiet build-up of gestures, glances, and shared silence that spoke more than words.
By now, it had become routine. Matt would swing by after his shift started, and I'd be waiting. Some nights we drove, others we walked. Sometimes I wore his cap, sometimes his jacket, and on one occasion, when it started snowing without warning, he pulled his gloves off and handed them to me without a word. They were warm, worn, and smelled faintly of the same clean scent I had come to associate with him. To me, it had become sensual when he shared some of his clothing. It was like he was loaning me a piece of himself.
The thing is, I was no longer pretending to myself. I knew what this was. What it was becoming. And I was reaching a breaking point with hiding it. Not just from the world, but from Matt.
It happened one night when the campus was particularly quiet. Finals were approaching, and the dorms were still. A thin layer of frost glazed the grass, and the sky above us was perfectly clear, scattered with stars.
We had parked near the faculty parking lot at the edge of the athletic fields. I could see the baseball diamond from where we sat. It looked surreal in the pale light, like a dream frozen in time.
"You ever miss playing?" I asked, nodding at the field.
Matt followed my gaze. "Every spring. My body doesn’t, though. Two torn hamstrings and a shoulder that clicks every time I roll over in bed."
I chuckled. "What position did you play?"
"Second base. But I covered short a lot, too."
I smiled. "Makes sense. We’re the glue of the infield."
"Exactly. Always in the thick of it."
We let that hang for a moment. Then, quietly, I asked, "Did you ever feel like you had to be someone else? When you played, I mean. Around the guys."
Matt took a deep breath, his hands resting on the wheel. He didn’t answer right away.
"Yeah," he said finally. "I knew I liked guys by the time I was fifteen. I learned pretty quick how to wear a mask. No one ever knew. Not during school, not the academy. Maybe a few people guessed. But I never confirmed it. I never did anything sexual with anyone."
He glanced over at me. "You ever come out to anyone?"
I looked astonished, “What? You think I’m gay?”
He smirked, “Duh.”
I guess you’ve caught me. "No. You're the first person I've told."
He nodded slowly, like he understood the weight of it. "I won't lie. It’s scary. Even now. But you're not alone in it. We’re buddies. We can talk, share feelings, work things out. I’ll help you any way you want.”
There was a long pause. The only sound was the faint hum of the cruiser’s heater and the occasional crackle from his radio.
"Matt, I..."
He turned to me, gently. No pressure. Just readiness.
"I think about you all the time," I said. "I think about you when I’m running drills. When I’m at the gym. When I’m falling asleep. And it's not just a crush or curiosity or whatever. It feels real. It feels like there would be hole in my life if you weren’t here. And I don’t know what to do with that."
He didn’t speak right away. But he didn’t look away, either.
His face softened and grew serious. "I think about you too, Jason. I think we feel the same."
Then, gently, he reached over and took my hand. It was the first time we'd touched skin-to-skin. His hand was warm, steady. I felt a tingle from his touch. I didn’t want to let go.
We didn’t kiss. But the silence between us was no longer tense. It was peaceful.
We stayed like that for a while, fingers loosely intertwined.
Eventually, he broke the silence. "You still want to wear the hat sometimes?"
I smiled. "Yeah. But this time, you’re keeping the baseball cap. I have spares."
He reached behind the seat, pulled out the police cap, and passed it to me. I slid it on. Now wearing it felt more meaningful now that we’d shared our feelings.
That was the night we stopped pretending anything about us was ordinary. We were more than patrol buddies. More than friends. And something told me, the best part of our story was just getting started.
Chapter Five – The Trade
By the time October rolled in with its gold-crusted trees and chilly twilight air, our lives had changed more than either of us admitted out loud. The biggest change came when I moved off campus and into Matt’s two-bedroom apartment above the local coffee shop. It was modest with exposed brick walls, squeaky wooden floors, and a kitchen that felt like it was trying, but failing, to be modern. Modest, yes, but it was ours.
Our routine changed, too. Now, instead of riding with him for a few hours and getting dropped back at the dorm, I met him at the door when his shift ended. Sometimes I was still awake, sometimes already asleep. In small ways, we were building something. It was a life shaped around glances, conversations, and a kind of intimacy that grew without pressure. I had my bedroom and Matt had his. We were closer to each other than a pair of twins but we still had not had sex. Neither of us wanted to rush it.
When Halloween came up, I didn’t think much of it at first. I wasn’t planning on going out. A few of the baseball guys were throwing a costume party, but I knew I’d be dodging awkward conversations and even more awkward flirtations from girls who didn’t realize I was batting for the other team. I figured Matt might have to work anyway. But when he told me he’d been invited to a department mixer and costume party off-duty, I could see the unease in his face.
"You’re not gonna believe this," he said one night over takeout, “but I have zero clue what to wear. They made it themed—something sporty. Can you imagine a bunch of off-duty cops in gym shorts and t-shirts?”
I laughed at that and said, “That doesn’t sound bad at all. I wouldn’t mind.”
“You’re not helping,” he said. “I have can’t imagine what I should go as.”
I raised an eyebrow. "You could go in your academy sweats. Play it safe."
"Lame. I need something that says fun but not ‘trying too hard.’ Besides... I think I’ve worn this same pair of jeans to every off-duty thing in the last year."
I studied him for a moment, then got an idea. I stood up and walked to my closet. The zipper of my garment bag hissed open and I pulled out my baseball uniform.
I walked back to the living room. "You’re gonna wear mine."
He looked up. "Wear what?"
I held out my baseball uniform, still neatly hung and cleaned from our last game. “Everything. Cleats, jock, sliding shorts, the works.”
Matt blinked at me. "You serious?"
"Absolutely. You've worn the cap before. You even wore my hoodie that week you caught the flu. Time for the full experience of being me."
He was quiet for a second, then gave that slow, side-smirk I knew so well. "You sure you’re okay with me stretching out your pants?"
"We’re the same size, dummy. They’ll fit just fine. Trust me."
The night of the party, he emerged from the bedroom looking every bit like he was about to lead the team onto the field. My jersey stretched across his chest, the number 8 pressed tight against his torso. The belt was cinched perfectly, and the pants hugged his hips and butt in a way I hadn’t expected to affect me as much as it did. The socks were pulled high, cleats laced, and to top it off, he wore my baseball cap turned backwards.
"How do I look, Coach?"
I blinked. "You look amazing. But turn that cap around the right way. Respect that uniform like its yours."
He chuckled, turned the cap forward and grabbed his keys. "OK Coach. Don’t wait up. Or do. Could be fun either way."
I watched him leave, stunned at how strange and thrilling it was to see someone else wearing something so tied to my identity. It wasn’t just a uniform anymore. It was... personal. Seeing Matt in it stirred something I hadn’t named until now. I wondered if he felt like I did when I wore some of his uniform.
And then the thought hit me. What would it feel like to wear his whole uniform?
I hesitated for a long time before walking back to his closet. His patrol gear was always organized, always neat. Out of respect, I’d never touched it beyond borrowing the cap or jacket.
Tonight, though, something pulled me.
I pulled his used t-shirt out of the laundry basket and put it on. Then I layered the ballistic vest. The pants fit like a glove. The shirt tucked in clean, the name plate over the right breast at the same level as his badge on the left. I pulled on his black socks and then his boots. The jacket came next, the thick collar brushing my neck, the sleeves rolling down like armor. I cinched the gun belt around my waist, adjusted the radio strap across my chest. then put the cap on my head. I felt like I was wearing Matt. My skin was surrounded with his scent.
I stood in front of the mirror and froze. I didn’t recognize myself—and yet, I did. This wasn’t costume. It wasn’t play. I looked like someone I wanted to be. I felt strong, composed, visible. Just like Matt. It was exciting and more than a little erotic.
I paced a little, heart thudding. The smell of him in the fabric—aftershave, starch, something faintly metallic wrapped around me like a memory. My hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but anticipation. It wasn’t just about the gear. It was about feeling him. Understanding him. Becoming a little more connected to the person who had changed everything. I kept the uniform on and lounged on the couch watching TV.
Sometime after midnight, I heard the key in the lock. I stayed still in the hallway, listening.
He stumbled in laughing softly to himself, more than slightly buzzed, and kicked off the cleats at the door.
"Jason? You up?"
I stepped into the glow of the kitchen light.
He stopped cold. His eyes widened.
I didn’t say anything. Just stood there in full uniform, cap on, boots planted.
"Jesus," he whispered. "You... you're wearing it."
I nodded, watching the way his gaze traveled over me. “And you’re wearing mine.”
"It fits like it was made for you."
"So does yours."
There was a pause.
Then he stepped closer, closing the distance between us with a steady intensity. His hands found my waist, thumbs brushing just above the belt line.
"You look..." He swallowed. "Hot. I mean, really damn good."
I reached up and touched his chest, where my team logo was still stretched across the fabric. "You do too."
We kissed then, no hesitation this time. Months of careful boundaries and tentative touches evaporated the second our mouths met. We reached down and felt each other’s excitement. All pretense was gone. It was slow at first, then deeper, hungrier. Our hats got knocked askew. Our uniforms pressed between us, fabric stiff but electric. Our hard dicks were rubbing each other as we made out.
He walked me backward to the couch, pulling the jacket off my shoulders. I tugged at his jersey, and in the next heartbeat, we were shedding layers not just of clothing, but of everything we’d been holding back.
It wasn’t just physical. It was deeply emotional. It was release. Recognition. The joy of being with someone who saw every part of you and didn’t flinch.
We made slow, sweet love. I took him in my mouth and got him wet. I sucked him and played with his balls and taint until I could tell he was ready. Then I rolled over on the sofa and handed him the bottle of lube from beside me. “Matt, I want you to be my first. Take it easy but fuck me. I need you inside me.”
Matt was more than happy to oblige me. “I haven’t done this before either. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He was sweet and slow and we both fumbled with our first time. Somehow, we found pleasure with each other and carved a memory of our first sex that would never fade. Matt stroked me while he slowly worked himself in and out of my hole. In spite of the newness of the experience we still managed to pleasure each other to simultaneous orgasms. It was the culmination of a bond we had forged and feelings we shared. It was a sweet and awe-inspiring moment in our lives.
Afterward, we lay tangled together on the couch, our bodies slick with sweat, lube and cum. Our breaths slowed and his hand found mine and held it tightly. "We really wore each other tonight," he said with a grin. “You were a perfect fit on me.”
I laughed, resting my head against his shoulder. "Yeah, you fit snuggly in me. And I finally earned the badge."
"You earned more than that, Jase."
We drifted off like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the scents lingering between us. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like I was trying to be someone else. I was just becoming the man I wanted to be with him.
Chapter Six – Crossroads
The apartment had settled into winter mode. The radiators clanked, the windows fogged from warm breath and cold glass, and the world outside was mostly shades of gray. Snow came early that year, blanketing the sidewalks and coating the baseball field like nature had hit pause. It was December, and with finals looming and my last semester winding down, my world felt anything but calm.
Matt and I had carved out our own rhythm. Coffee together before his shift, late-night talks, quiet dinners in hoodies and socks. There were plenty of mornings I woke to find him already dressed, sitting at the kitchen counter filling out his patrol reports, his badge glinting in the soft overhead light. Sometimes he wore my hoodie and cap, and I’d catch him sipping from my travel mug.
I liked seeing parts of me wrapped around him like that. But under it all, a tension had been building. I could feel it in the way he paused when he brought in the mail and set college career brochures on the table. I could feel it in myself, too. The questions that wouldn’t stop knocking. One night, as wind howled outside and we lay in bed pressed together, I broke the silence.
"I’ve been thinking," I said quietly, my head on his chest, fingers tracing slow patterns over his bare stomach.
"Dangerous start," he murmured sleepily.
"I’m serious, Matt. Graduation is coming soon. Everyone’s starting to ask where I’m going, what I’m doing. Coach asked if I’m considering the minor leagues."
His body went still for just a second. I felt his muscles stiffen a little.
"What’d you tell him?"
"That I’m not sure. I’m not. I love baseball, but not enough to chase it around the country for a maybe shot."
He rubbed my back gently. "So what are you thinking instead?"
I sat up slowly, looking down at him. "What if I went to the academy? Like you did."
His eyes opened fully then, meeting mine. He didn’t laugh. Didn’t scoff. Just blinked, surprised.
"You’re serious."
"Yeah. I’ve been riding with you for almost a year. I know the campus like the back of my hand. I like being out there, helping people. It’s routine but not boring. Purposeful."
He sat up beside me, sheets falling to his waist.
"You’d be good. You’re sharp, observant. Good under pressure. And you're strong as hell. But..."
"But what?"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"It’s a hard job, Jase. You see people at their worst. Some nights you get spit on. Some mornings you file a report on someone who reminds you of your brother. You see kids OD’d in their bed.”
"But you still do it."
"Yeah, because I believe in it. But I also don’t want you choosing it because of me. Or worse, resenting me if it doesn’t turn out to be what you hoped."
I leaned into him. "I wouldn’t resent you. I’m thinking about it because of how I feel when I’m out there. With you. When someone nods at us, or asks for help, or even when it’s just you and me doing rounds, I feel like I’m not pretending anymore."
His gaze softened. "When I’m with you, I feel that too. You know I love you, but I don’t want to hold you back from any future you deserve."
I kissed him then, slow and certain, my hand sliding along his head as I stroked his hair. The kiss deepened, mouths warm, our bodies shifting closer. He rolled over me, his weight pressing down as his hands cupped my sides. We’d done this before but something about that night made it feel more vulnerable. More tethered to the future than just the here and now.
I heard the click of the top on the lube bottle. He got a handful and worked it into my crack and hole with gentle fingers. Once I was opened up, he lubed himself. He leaned forward and kissed me hard as he penetrated me. He was gentle and slow and I moaned in ecstasy as he moved inside me. This went on for a long time until he sped up his rhythm and started to stroke me in time with his thrusts and kisses. I was finally overcome with pleasure and spilled my cum between us. This pushed Matt over the edge as well and I felt every pulse of his cock inside of me.
Afterward, we lay tangled together. He traced a line down my chest. "Where would you go to the academy?"
"That’s the hard part. The closest one is two hours away. And most of the departments I’ve looked at are out of state. They hire directly into training programs."
Matt’s eyes were fixed on the ceiling now.
"So you would have to leave."
I swallowed. "Yeah. Maybe."
He didn’t say anything for a while. The silence stretched out, heavy between us.
"You know you’ve built something here," he said at last. "Your team, your friends. Us. Me."
I rolled onto my side, facing him. "I'm not trying to leave you behind. I don't want that."
"But you might have to."
His words weren’t angry. Just factual. And that made it worse.
"Unless..."
He turned to me.
"Unless what?"
I hesitated. "Unless there’s a way we make it work. If I go to a program nearby. Or... if we figure out what this is really about. You and me."
He touched my cheek, thumb brushing beneath my eye.
"You know what this is. We’ve been living it every day. We wear each other’s clothes. We finish each other’s damn coffee orders. I can tell what kind of day you had based on how your cap sits on your head."
I let out a quiet laugh. "You love that cap."
"No. I deeply love the guy who wears it."
My breath caught.
He didn’t take it back.
He just looked at me with that same calm certainty he always had when we were on patrol. Like he knew exactly where we were going, even if the road ahead was uncertain.
I cupped his face. "I love you too."
We didn’t sleep much that night. Not out of lust but closeness. Touches became reassurances. Every whisper felt like a thread woven tighter between us as we cuddled.
In the morning, over scrambled eggs and Luke-warm coffee, I looked at the open laptop on the table. The application to the state police academy blinked in front of me.
"So," he said, sliding the plate toward me. "You gonna fill it out?"
I looked at him. At our apartment. At the future neither of us could predict.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "But I’m gonna apply to one here. If I can stay, I want to. If I have to go, I’ll find a way to come back."
He nodded.
"Then we’ll figure it out. Together."
Because love, like law enforcement, meant showing up. Even when the route was unclear. Especially then, when the need was greatest.
Chapter Seven – The Opening
The snow was falling again that night, soft and slow, blanketing the campus like the world had called a timeout. I stood by our apartment window, watching the streetlights halo through the flakes. Inside, the only sounds were the occasional clank of the radiator and the low hum of the clothes washer. The smell of hot cocoa still lingered in the kitchen. Matt’s shift was supposed to end half an hour ago.
When his cruiser finally pulled into the lot, I felt that small flutter I always did seeing him. His figure was unmistakable in the driver’s seat, uniform jacket buttoned high, patrol cap in place. He looked every bit the capable cop and the man I’d fallen in love with.
I opened the door just as he stepped into the stairwell.
“You’re late,” I said as he walked in, his boots heavy with half-melted slush.
Matt gave a tired half-smile and kicked his boots off at the door. “Yeah. Chief held me after briefing.”
I noticed he was holding something—a blue department folder under one arm. He didn’t usually bring home paperwork unless it was serious.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, but didn’t elaborate. He hung his jacket carefully, set the folder on the counter, and walked over to the sink to pour himself a glass of water.
I followed, waiting.
Finally, he glanced at the folder. “They opened a second overnight patrol position.”
I blinked. “Wait—what?”
He nodded slowly. “Campus police restructured some of the patrol zones. They're adding a second officer for the late shift. North and south sectors. Each gets their own car, own route. It’s posted as of this afternoon. Internal applicants get priority.”
My eyes drifted to the folder. “That’s... big.”
“Yeah.”
Silence settled between us for a moment. I could feel it—thick, buzzing with possibilities. I stepped closer and leaned against the counter across from him.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked carefully.
Matt gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t said anything because I didn’t want to pressure you. You’ve still got options, Jase. You’ve got interviews lined up in three different cities. Police academies with bigger departments. Specialized units. Mobility. There’s still a lot on the table for you to choose from.”
“Right,” I said, quietly. “But that’s the thing. None of those places are here.”
His eyes flicked up to meet mine.
“And you are,” I added. “You’re here.”
He didn’t answer right away. He just watched me, and when he finally spoke, it was gentle. “I want you to take the job that makes you feel like you belong. That you’re doing what you’re meant to. Not the one that makes it easier for us or for me.”
“I’ve thought about that,” I admitted. “A lot. But Matt… if I took one of those out-of-town jobs, if I packed up and moved to Indianapolis or Raleigh or wherever else I’ve interviewed, I’d be waking up in an apartment without you. Working streets that don’t feel like home. Trying to start something with someone else when I already had the one thing that mattered most. I couldn’t live with that hole in my heart if I left you behind.”
I saw a tear roll down his cheek as he reached for my hand across the counter. “You’re saying this job would be enough for you?”
I stepped around and stood beside him. “I’m saying we are. We are all that matters.”
A beat of silence.
His voice was low. “I want to believe that. I do.”
“You can,” I said, more certain than I’d felt in weeks. “We’ve built something here. This place isn’t just your campus anymore. It’s ours.”
He ran a hand down my arm, slow and steady. “I’d love working beside you. But I never wanted to put that decision in your lap.”
“You didn’t,” I said. “You just reminded me what matters.”
He looked at me for a long time before pulling me into a quiet hug, his face buried in my shoulder as his body shuddered with quiet tears.
________________________________________
That night, we sat on the couch, laptops open, files spread across the coffee table. The application was simple. A resume, statement of purpose, department references. I had most of it already prepped for my other applications, but Matt helped me tighten the language.
“Delete that,” he said, pointing at a sentence. “You don’t need to say ‘aspiring.’ You’re already the guy. Just write like you know it.”
“You’re good at this,” I said, smiling at him.
He shrugged. “I’ve read enough rookie applications to know when someone’s bluffing. You’re not. Just be yourself.”
“I am. You’re in most of my answers anyway.”
Matt leaned back, visibly touched. “You really think this place will give you what you need?”
I nodded. “You give me what I need.”
His hand slipped into mine, and we sat in silence for a moment. The snow outside kept falling, quiet and unbothered. The world beyond our apartment could wait.
I hit submit.
The confirmation screen flashed, simple and uneventful.
“That’s it,” I said, exhaling. “Now we wait.”
“Not long,” Matt said. “I’ll be asked to weigh in. I already know who’s on the review panel.”
“Oh great,” I teased. “Nepotism.”
He smirked. “Call it faith.”
________________________________________
The interview was scheduled for the following Monday. I shaved twice that morning. Pressed my slacks until they had lines sharp enough to cut. Matt walked me to the front steps like a proud parent—half joking, half not.
“You got this,” he said, squeezing my shoulder.
I smiled. “You gonna quiz me when I get back?”
“No,” he said. “I’m just gonna take you out for dinner to celebrate your being hired.”
“Confident.”
He used his fist and faked hitting my chin. “I know a good thing when I see it.”
________________________________________
The interview was more formal than I expected. Three department supervisors, the head of public safety, and a staff member from the student affairs office. They asked about everything—conflict de-escalation, campus policies, community relations, and the ethics of working on a campus where you’ve been a student.
I answered as honestly as I could.
“I think being a student here has helped me understand the needs of this campus. I know the blind spots, I know the common complaints, I know the mind of a student, and I’ve spent the last year learning from one of your best.”
They asked who I meant.
“Officer Matt Carter,” I said, clearly.
One of the interviewers raised an eyebrow. “We’ve noticed you’ve done quite a few ride-alongs with him.”
“Yes,” I said. “He’s part of the reason I want this. He’s shown me that serving this community isn’t about muscle or authority. It’s about presence. Listening. Understanding. Showing up when people need someone steady.”
They asked if working alongside him would be a conflict.
“No,” I said, firmly. “It’ll make me better. I won’t be leaning on him. I’ll be learning from him.”
When the interview ended, I stepped out into the biting cold feeling like my nerves had finally thawed. By the time I got back to the apartment, Matt was already home.
“Well?” he asked, standing in the kitchen.
I tossed my coat aside and swept him straight into his arms.
“I nailed it,” I whispered.
________________________________________
They called two days later.
Matt was at his desk, filling out a shift report. I was elbow-deep in a sink full of dishes when the call came. I dried my hands, answered, and stood frozen as the HR director confirmed the offer. Full-time. Starting after winter semester graduation.
I hung up and turned to find Matt watching me.
“Well?” he asked.
“They offered me the position.”
He stood, slowly. “You taking it?”
I smiled. “You tell me.”
He crossed the room, hands gripping my shoulders before pulling me into a hard, breath-stealing kiss. I held on like I never wanted to let go.
“I can’t wait to see you in your own uniform,” he murmured against my mouth.
“Yeah?” I smirked. “You already did on Halloween, but you were pretty drunk. You still think I look better in it than you?”
“Oh, you definitely do,” he said. “But just barely. And I look better than you in the baseball uniform.”
________________________________________
The first day of training was a blur of paperwork, briefings, and equipment fittings. My issued uniform fit like a glove. No tailoring needed. The cap sat squarely on my head, the weight of the belt felt natural. When I stepped into the locker room and caught my reflection, I hardly recognized myself. But it wasn’t the uniform. It was the confidence underneath it.
That night, Matt and I walked patrol together.
It wasn’t official yet because my training shadow shifts hadn’t started but the chief gave us clearance to walk the quad together as a courtesy.
“You ready for this?” Matt asked as we passed the library.
“I’ve been ready and you know it.”
He handed me the flashlight, the one he always used.
“I trust you,” he said.
I took it, not just as a gesture, but as a passing of something bigger.
“I’ve got your six,” I said.
He looked at me, eyes full of something that felt bigger than either of us.
“I know.”
And just like that, we were no longer a student and an officer.
We were partners.
In duty. In love. In life.
