The Room Where It All Started
He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there. Hoodie unzipped halfway. Breath a little uneven. Eyes locked on mine like he was still deciding whether to step in or step back.
I moved aside.
He walked in.
Closed the door.
Some moments feel rehearsed. Like you’ve imagined them enough times they play out exactly the way you thought they would.
This wasn’t like that.
This felt like improv. Like jumping into a scene and not knowing your line, but the audience is already watching.
Wes stood near my desk. Glanced at the plant — dying — then at my bed, neatly made. He didn’t sit. Just turned back toward me.
“You up?” he said, nodding toward my phone. “That was me.”
“I figured.”
“You didn’t answer.”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
He nodded slowly, like that tracked. Then ran a hand through his hair — not smooth this time, more like he was trying to stall himself from speaking.
“I didn’t hear your music tonight,” he said after a pause.
I blinked.
“You always play something. Real mellow stuff. Kind of… sets the floor right.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I guess I noticed it was quiet. I don’t know.”
He said it like it was a reason. But it wasn’t the whole reason. Maybe not even the real one.
He looked at me again.
“I just ended up here.”
He took a step toward me. Not big. Not dramatic. Just enough.
There’s a kind of silence that hums. Like the air’s charged. Like something’s about to happen and the room knows it before you do.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said. Soft. Like it hurt to admit.
I swallowed. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “That’s the thing. I don’t… I don’t do this.”
“This?”
He nodded once.
Everything in me was screaming: don’t ask what he means.
Because I already knew.
And I wanted it anyway.
Then—
He kissed me.
No warning. No hesitation.
Just mouth on mouth like he’d been waiting for the green light and finally ran through it.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow.
It was desperate. Like something cracked open in him and I happened to be standing in the blast radius.
His hands found my face — one on my jaw, one curling behind my neck. He tilted his head and pressed in deeper. I made a sound — somewhere between a gasp and a moan — and felt him shudder against me.
He kissed like he was drowning and I was the only breath he’d had in weeks.
I didn’t kiss back right away. Not because I didn’t want to. But because I couldn’t believe it was happening.
But once I did… I couldn’t stop.
He pulled back just slightly, our foreheads nearly touching. He was breathing hard. So was I.
Then his hand moved.
Down.
His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my sweats and stopped just at the edge of something too dangerous to name.
I froze. Not out of fear — but from how fast it all was. From how real it suddenly felt.
He looked down. Watched my lips part. My breath catch. His eyes flicked up again.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded.
I was more than okay. I was on fire and I didn’t want it to stop.
Then he touched me.
Just once. A light graze, but enough to make my knees threaten to buckle.
I let out a sound I didn’t recognize — broken, breathy, needy — and he caught it. Smiled like it undid him.
But just as quickly—
He yanked his hand back. Like he’d touched something hot. Or wrong.
He took a step away. Then another.
The space between us felt unbearable.
He ran a hand through his hair again. Didn’t look at me this time.
“I can’t,” he said. “I’m—shit. I’m sorry.”
“Wes.”
“No,” he said quickly. “Don’t.”
He turned to leave, then stopped halfway to the door.
His back still to me.
“You remember orientation?” he said, voice low. “That first day. In the crowd.”
“Yeah.”
“I saw you.”
I froze.
“You looked right at me,” he said. “I thought… maybe you were someone I’d have to forget.”
Then he opened the door and walked out.
I stood there, pants half-undone, chest heaving, mouth tingling from where his lips had been.
And for the first time since I got here…
I didn’t feel alone.
I felt wrecked.
But not alone.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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