A/N: So this is a (late) birthday present for my beta. Poor thing is being overworked lately, so I really hope this make her feel better. I also hope that you like it too. And there's a small chance that some time in the future I might write a sequel for this. I really love this characters, and I'm not sure I can just give them up. Well. We'll see.

Two Days Ago

Two days ago my life was normal, or as normal as it can be when you're a gay college junior. I went to class, worked, and then went to sleep. I didn't have a boyfriend, nor did I really want one. There wasn't really anyone that I even liked.

But that was two days ago. Before I met her.

If I hadn't met her, I probably would have never met him. And I'm not really sure how I feel about that to tell you the truth. I mean, I like him; enough for me not to feel guilty about lying in bed next to him, naked. But I honestly don't know him since I just found out he existed two days ago.

And I'm not really sure where this leaves us either. I don't know if he wants this to be more than a one-night thing or not. Hell—I don't even know if I want this to be more than what it already is.

What is it right now, anyway?

I don't know.

I run a hand over my face, stifling a sigh and being careful not to wake him, then go back to staring at the ceiling in the dark.

Before two days ago, I didn't have this kind of problem.

THURSDAY – TWO DAYS AGO

I was sitting in my usual spot by the window in the café on campus. Class didn't start until another half an hour, so I had time to finish the coffee and muffin I was having for breakfast. I was by myself, which is how I like to be when I'm eating breakfast. It gives me time to collect myself before the day; to prepare myself for dealing with others, if you will. I'm not really a people person; small talk aggravates me greatly. Don't get me wrong, I still have friends. They're just few in numbers. And so are the people I can stand being around without developing a migraine. Which is why I find it odd that I like him as much as I do when I barely know him.

But I digress.

I was looking out the window, watching some lady walk her Pomeranian, as I took a sip of my coffee—black, with sugar—when she plopped herself down unceremoniously in the seat across from me.

Startled and slightly annoyed that someone was interrupting my breakfast, I turned to her. But before I even had a chance to open my mouth, she started rambling in a hushed voice so fast that I'm surprised I even understood her.

"Okay. I know you're gay," she said, and I narrowed my eyes at her. I don't know how she knew that because I'm positive that I don't look gay. And I don't believe in gaydar, either. "But please. Just pretend to be my boyfriend for five minutes. I—"

She cut herself off and gave a large grin to the guy that had just walked up to my table. It didn't take much to realize that the guy must have been her ex, or some poor fool that didn't realize when someone just was not interested. But I didn't really care. My eyebrows where threatening to get lost in my hair by that point, because why me? Out of all the people sitting by themselves here, why me?

But if it hadn't been me, I wouldn't have met him.

"Hey Brian," she said.

"Hey Lauren," he said back. But instead of looking at her, he was scrutinizing me with narrowed eyes. I stared back at him blankly, because what else was I suppose to do? Offer him my muffin? I think not.

"Who's this?" he—Brian asked.

The chick—Lauren—caught my eye and gave me a quick pleading look behind his back. And I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I'm kind of glad it did because, well…I wouldn't have met him if I hadn't.

"I'm her boyfriend,'" I said smoothly, offering my hand for him to shake, "Cade."

"Oh." Brian frowned, and reluctantly shook my hand. I almost smirked. Almost. "Hello." Then he turned back towards Lauren and gave her a weak smile. "I've got work, Lauren. So I'll see you around."

"Okay!" she said, grinning at him until he turned around and started walking away. Once he was out of the café, with the door closed behind him, she collapsed on the table. "God. Thank you. I've been trying to get him to leave me alone for weeks!"

"Uh huh. That's lovely," I told her sarcastically, scowling. I wanted to be left alone. "But why are you still here? At my table? Interrupting my breakfast?" I glared at her.

Lauren lifted herself from the table to make herself eyelevel with me, raising one of her eyebrows. "Well, someone's grumpy. When's the last time you got laid, man?"

I narrowed my eyes at her, but didn't say anything because it had been a while, and well…that was embarrassing.

"Right," she said, smirking knowingly. Then her eyes became wide, her expression turning into the one that people sometime get when they get an idea. I think it's the stupidest look there is. "Oh my god! I should hook you up with my brother. You're his type and he's an easy lay. You said your name's Cade, right? What's your last nam—Wait. Never mind. I'll figure that out myself."

I stared at her reproachfully as she stood up and started walking away, waving over her shoulder at me. "See you later!"

Thinking back on it now, that was probably the weirdest thing that happened to me in the past two days that helped me end up in this bed with him. There were other weird things too, but those were mostly on my part. Like what happened next.

After I stopped staring at her, I turned back to my half-eaten, half-drank breakfast, only to catch sight of my watch. I let out a low curse and slung my bag over my shoulder before I grabbed my muffin and my coffee, tossing the muffin in the trash, and started out of the café. That chick had made me loose track of time, and I was going to miss the bus if I didn't hurry my ass up. What a wonderful time for the brakes on your car to be shot, right?

So there I was, weaving my way through the tables to the door, while I simultaneously juggled my coffee and tried to keep my bag on my shoulder as I searched my pockets for my bus pass. Naturally, I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going, which is why I walked into someone. But since I'm kind of like a rock, my coffee was completely unharmed while the other guy…

Well, everything he had in his hands went all over him, me, and the floor. I'm just grateful that he ordered an iced-coffee. A stain I can live with; burns, I can not. Still, I was about to snap at the kid to watch where he was going, even though I knew it was partially my fault. I didn't care though; I was going to be late and that chick had put me in a bad mood. But then I saw him, the words died in my mouth.

(And before you even start smirking; no. It was not that 'love at first sight' nonsense. That's just a load of fairytale crap.)

Like me, he had coffee all down the front of him, but his white band shirt had this massive red stain on it where the jelly-filled something he'd just bought had been squished between his chest and the text book he was carrying. His eyes were closed and he was biting the inside of his lip, just standing there completely still. He looked like he was seriously about to cry, and for some reason that made me feel guilty enough to apologize to him.

"Sorry," I told him, and the kid's eyes snapped open. He sneered at me.

"Oh. No problem," he said sarcastically. Then he rolled his eyes at me and stalked out of the café, his shoes sticking slightly to the floor because of the puddle of coffee we were standing in.

I was left there, slightly gaping at him. It's just…that was really the first time I'd tried to be nice to someone only to have scornfulness given back. I suppose that's how most people feel when they encounter me. But still. I was surprised. That kid hadn't seemed like, I don't know, the type of person able to do that. Or whatever.

I don't know.

My major is history, not psychology.

Like his.

My attention was pulled away from the door, which the kid had already disappeared out of, by someone clearing their throat next to me. I turned to them only to be greeted with the sigh of an employee holding a mop and fighting to keep his expression from turning exasperated, staring at me.

"Excuse me, sir," he said with so much false politeness that even a slow five year old would be able to hear, "but you need to move so I can mop this up."

I scowled at him and walked out of the café, only to start running when I realized I had less than a minute to make it to the stupid bus stop.

*

I'm not going to bored you with a whole recap of the rest of my day when I could sum it up with just two words—it sucked. Besides, nothing happened until after I was done with classes for the day that had any effect, direct or indirect, on him being tangled up in my sheets right now, so why would I tell you completely unrelated nonsense? And to be perfectly honest with you, I really wish that this didn't have to have happened. I could have been saved from several migraines.

Okay. So I was walking across campus with my friend Vince. He's one of the few people I can stand to be around, mainly because he's normally a quiet person. Normally. But today wasn't anywhere near being normal. Oh, no. Because on a normal day, I don't have random breakfast-interrupting chicks stalk me in order to hook me up with their brother.

Which is exactly what she did.

"Dude," Vince said, pulling me to a stop by the arm. "Someone's calling your name."

"What?" I stopped scowling at the ground to look up and listen. And sure enough, I could hear someone shouting 'Cade! Cade!' I turned in that direction to see two people running over to Vince and me, one waving their hands over their head. I didn't realize who that one was until she was standing right in front of me.

"You," I sneered.

"Me!" Lauren chirped happily, totally oblivious to the fact that I did not—and still don't—like her. Then she narrowed her eyes and started waggling an accusing finger at me. My eyebrows disappeared into my hair again.

"You should have told me that Cade wasn't your actual name!" she scolded. "Do you know how much time I spent searching the student databases for a Cade, only to realize after looking at about a dozen Cades, none of them you, that maybe it was a nickname? So then I searched for all the names like that, and did you know that you're the only one in this entire school that has the name Arcadian?"

I scowled at her. She blinked.

"That is your name, right?" she asked, a bit uncertainly. "Arcadian Tomlinson?"

"Yes," I hissed. "But don't call me that."

"Oh…okay!" She beamed at me. "I'll just keep calling you Cade then!"

"No!" I snapped. "You can't call me that either!"

Lauren gave me a puzzled look. "Then what can I call you?"

"Nothing!" I nearly shouted at her. "Crazy people who interrupt my breakfast and make me pretend to be their boyfriend don't get to call me anything!"

Vince—that traitor—started snickering, and so did the kid that was standing a step behind Lauren. I didn't even realize he was there until then, which is typical of me, really. I don't notice people until they make me notice them. And people who look ordinary, I can't remember anything about them. Like Lauren. She looks ordinary, even though she's insane. I'm still not able to tell you what color hair or eyes she has. Not that it matters.

But this kid—hell, I'll remember him 'til the day I die. Why? Because he's a fucking walking billboard for gay clichés and everything I hate. He had the pink polo, tight girl jeans, fucking rainbow bracelets, the highlighted hair—which whoever did, needs to be shot because it looked like shit—and sculpted eyebrows. He looked too fucking feminine too.

"I like him, sis," he said, smiling at me in that shy-wannabe-seductive way that makes me sick.

"I knew you would," she replied back, and then turned to me again. "This is my brother, Zeke. You know. The one I told you about."

I stared at her blankly. Why the hell was she acting like we had an actual conversation? Like we were friends? We weren't! All she had said to me about him was that he was an easy lay! And—what the fuck? She was pimping her brother!

Dysfunctional!

"So Cade," Zeke said in a voice that he probably thought was sexy or whatever. It wasn't, just to let you know. It made me twitch. "Wanna go get a coffee with me? Or something?" He raised an eyebrow at me, smirking.

I was just about to tell him that I did not have coffee with twinks like him that had crazy pimp sisters, but Vince answered for me before I even opened my mouth.

"Of course he will," Vince said.

I turned to him to stare to at him incredulously, losing any chance I had to deny it before Zeke grabbed my wrist and started dragging me off. I know I should've and could've protested or pulled myself from his grip, but I was too busy staring at Vince—my quiet, introverted best friend—with a betrayed look. And you know what he said when I asked him why he did that later? He said that because he thought it would be funny. Some friend he is, right?

Anyway. That's how I ended up sitting through an hour of listening to Rainbow Boy babble about stupid shit that I don't give a fuck about. I'm not going to retell the whole encounter for you. It's painful to even think about. But to let you know how it went, I'll say this:

When I got back to my apartment, I had a killer migraine, and I wanted to murder Zeke and then myself.

PRESENT

I glance over at the clock. It's just past 2:00AM. I check another sigh and look over at him.

He's still sleeping—what I wish I could be doing, but can't since my mind's too busy reeling. His face is turned towards me, and there's enough light from my alarm clock, and my eyes are so accustomed to the dark by now that I can see that his lips are parted slightly.

God—those lips. I can still feel them against my own and my skin. There's really no use for me to deny it, so I won't even try:

He's an amazing kisser.

FRIDAY – ONE DAY AGO

I don't procrastinate. Ever. Which is why I was in the library at 10 o'clock in the freaking morning doing research for a paper I had to write. Normally, I don't mind it, but yesterday I was having a hell of a time concentrating on the books in front of me about the French Revolution. And that's my favorite historical event.

Frustrated, I threw my pen and reading glasses—yeah, big, bad Arcadian Tomlinson, has reading glasses. Suck it—down on the table then leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. It was ridiculous that I couldn't do this. I needed to at least find the books I was going to use before my 1 o'clock class, or I would be stuck here on Saturday. And that would piss me off to no end since Saturday was my lazy-sleep-all-day day.

So why the fuck couldn't I concentrate?!

I sighed then put my glasses back on and started reading the text again. I got about three sentences into it before I just stopped and started scowling at the book. It was completely useless. There wasn't any information in here that I didn't already know, and it was just boring. I hadn't even thought the French Revolution could seem boring until this book!

I slammed the book shut, aggravated, and then roughly pushed my chair out away from the table so I could go find a different, more interesting, book. Only, when I shoved my chair out, I didn't realize someone was walking behind me with an armful of books at that exact moment, and I caused them to fall on their face.

"Shit," I cursed as I scrambled from the chair to help the guy up. But when I went to pull him up by the arm, he jerked away from me, and stood up by himself. I stared at him, a bit wide-eyed.

"I'm capable of getting up on my own, thanks," he snapped sarcastically, and I realized his voice was familiar—the way he snapped sarcastically was familiar. But it wasn't until I saw his face that I realized why.

"You," I said, staring disbelievingly at the kid I'd walked into in the café.

He blinked at me. "You," he echoed. Then he snorted and smirked slightly. "Of course you." He shook his head and then started picking up the books that I'd made him drop.

I continued staring at him, unable to stop myself. I knew I should and I wanted to, but I couldn't. And I knew why too, which was the part I was so annoyed with myself about.

This kid was—God, strike me down—cute. Really cute. But the kind of cute that you don't notice at first—especially when you're pissed off because some crazy psycho chick interrupted your breakfast and you have coffee all down your front because you weren't paying attention to where you were walking. And then when you do notice, you immediately start to wonder why you didn't in the first place. Which was exactly what I was doing.

The kid had messy dark brown, almost black, hair that just fell into his eyes, which were a blue-green that was almost too bright. He'd long, dark eyelashes, sharp, but not too sharp of features, and a light dusting of freckles over the bridge of nose and cheeks.

I was still staring at him when he stood up with all his books, and I realized he was about a head shorter than me. And narrower—I would say scrawny, but no. he wouldn't have been able to carry all those books if he was just scrawny.

Just then, he glanced up and caught me watching him. I held his gaze as he raised an eyebrow at me, fighting the urge I had to look away guiltily. Because—so what? He caught me staring at him. It's not like he knew that I was checking him out.

At least, that's what I hoped.

"What?" he asked, setting his books down on the table behind him.

"Um…" What the fuck? I did not stutter or stumble over my words like an idiot. I came up with sarcastic remarks that made people slightly uncomfortable and secretly envious of my wit! So what the hell was going on!?

Oh, fuck it. It was his eyes. The color and the amused glint in them, as well as something else, just…did something to me.

He raised both his eyebrows at me then, and I coughed awkwardly into my hand before I flickered my gaze to the floor quickly, then back up to him. I was careful not to look directly at his eyes.

"Sorry," I managed to say. "You know. About today…and yesterday, I guess…" I frowned a bit, and wondered where the hell this was coming from and what the fuck was wrong with me.

He snorted again, but then smiled a bit and said, "Don't worry about it. It's not like you meant to do it. And yesterday was partially my fault too."

"Yeah. So, um, is your shirt okay?" I asked him, and then mentally cussed at myself. What was I? Fourteen?

"How's yours?" he countered, still smirking.

"Stained," I told him, rather lamely. His smirk widened.

"Mine too. With both coffee and cherry jelly."

I winced sympathetically, which was odd since I'm not sympathetic. "Sorry," I repeated.

"I said don't worry about it," he said. "I think both of us were having a pretty shitty day yesterday." He gave me a mysterious smile, and then glanced down at his watch. He started gathering his books again. "Well. I've got class, so I guess I'll see you around…?" He raised his eyebrows at me questioningly.

"Arcadian—Cade," I told him, shaking my head a bit at myself for giving him my full name. Something was definitely wrong with me.

He just smiled at me though. "Gabriel. Or Gabe, if you like," he said, and I felt the corners of my mouth twitch upwards a bit. "Well. See you."

"See you," I echoed.

Gabe flashed me another grin before he started walking away. I watched him until he was out of my sight, and then sat back down in front of my books. Surprisingly, it was a lot easier for me to concentrate.

Though, the smile on my lips should've told me then that I was in trouble.

*

Normally, I don't go out on Friday nights. Why would I when none my friends or I are really into the club scene? And even if some of them do go to clubs, I'm not with them. They're too loud, and there are too many people.

So why then did I happen to be standing near a bar at a gay club at that moment?

Well. It's simple really: Zeke's a stalker, Lauren's a psycho, and Vince's a traitor, and all three of them were conspiring against me.

Apparently, Zeke had such a fantastic time with me at the café, so Lauren corrupted my best friend and got Vince to trick me into going out with Zeke again. Because he thought it would be funny. Fucking—how would he know? He wasn't even there to watch!

Anyhow, this is what happened:

Vince showed up at my apartment around nine-ish, claiming that he knew this kid from one of his classes that had someone managed to get the new Halo—legally or illegally, I didn't know or care. And because I'm a huge Halo junkie—which Vince knows—I freaking believed him when he said that the kid was having a bunch of people over to play it, and that I was invited.

But instead of driving me to this kid's place, he drives me to a fucking gay club—a place I swore to myself I'd never go—pushes me out of his car, and then drives away, laughing.

Yeah.

So there I was, just staring down the road after him with a what-the-fuck expression on my face when Zeke, King of Clichés, saunters up to me. He was wearing another twinky-rainbow outfit that was too tight, that made me want to punch him even more than I already had. I really hate people like him, who just feed the stereotypes. It's people like him who are the reason a lot of gay men aren't taken seriously. Hell—my family didn't take me seriously when I came out to them because they thought that all gay men were supposed to be obviously feminine and flamboyant.

Like Zeke.

Anyway. He dragged me inside the club and I was too stunned to resist him. Then, even when I regained my senses, I couldn't get rid of him since he's like a fucking leech. Do you know how many times I tried to get away and failed because he was practically hanging off of me? 54! It wasn't until a few moments before, when he'd decided to go to the bathroom, that I'd managed to get away from him. Thank god for that, too. He would've made me dance with him when he'd got back, and that wasn't happening. Ever. Not only was he completely shitfaced—he apparently just turned 21 last fucking week!—but I could see the way people were dancing. And I was not about to let him grind himself against my like that. Besides, I don't dance with clinging, twink-stalkers. Or anyone else for that matter.

Anyway.

I was standing near the bar, contemplating on whether or not alcohol would better my mood and trying to ignore all the guys checking me out. Two had already come up to me and asked me to dance with them. But after I'd scowled at them, they'd gone away. It's really quite amazing what that facial expression can do for you.

Deciding that even though it might not improve my mood, a vodka sour sounded really good right about then, I started pushing my way closer to the bar. Only, when I got up there, I realized that I didn't have my wallet on me. Which meant that not only could I not get drunk, I had no money for a cab either, and the freaking bus didn't come out here. So what I'm trying to say here was that I had no way home.

Fuck!!!!

I was going to kill Vince! And then Zeke! And then maybe Lauren too just for the hell of it since this whole fucking thing started with her!

Very pissed off and scowling, I began making my way through the crowd towards the exit. I figured that if I left then and started walking, I'd be able to make it back to my apartment around one. It's not like I was asking any of those guys for a ride home. There was no chance that they would take that in the right way.

But the thing is, I didn't even make it halfway to the door since, for the second time in two days, I walked into someone.

He had just turned away from the bar right when I'd walked into his path, and we collided. Thankfully and miraculously, the drink he had somehow managed not to spill on us, but I was still annoyed. Or, well, I was until he took a step back, making it so I could see his face and he could see mine, and then spoke.

"Really Cade. We've got to stop meeting like this," Gabe said, smirking. I just gaped at him for a moment before I remembered how to speak. Though it seemed I still couldn't remember how to speak intelligently yet.

"You," I said.

Gabe laughed. "Yeah. Me."

"Um." I continued staring at him, baffled. Because, what, this was the 3rd time I'd run into him randomly in two days? Yeah. That's baffling. And weird.

"Hi," I finally managed to say. Very lamely, I might add.

"Hi," he said back, apparently not caring about my lameness since he was grinning. Then he took a sip of his drink, his amused eyes never leaving mine, and I failed miserably in trying not to watch. Especially when he ran his tongue over his bottom lip afterwards. He noticed and raised his eyebrows at me, smirking again. "Wanna sip?"

Suddenly, my mouth was very dry and a sip of his drink sounded very tempting right about then. "Um. Sure," I croaked, and he handed me his drink. With my eyes still locked on his I took a sip, swallowed, and then gave him an odd look. "Rootbeer?"

Gabe shrugged, smiling a bit as he took his soda back. "Underage."

"Oh," I said. Then, I frowned. "You don't look it."

"I know," he said. He was giving me that mysterious smile again. "And you don't look like the type to be caught dead in a gay club."

I gave him a flat look. "It's a long story," I told him, and Gabe laughed.

"I've got time," he said. "C'mon." He motioned towards a surprisingly empty table and began walking towards it. I followed him, because it was either that or go back to Zeke, and that wasn't happening. Besides, I wanted to.

"So," he said once we were sitting down. "Why are you here?"

I took a deep breath then began telling him about Lauren and her psychotic brother-pimping, Zeke the Twink-Stalker, and Vince's betrayal. By the time I was finished I felt a little better, but I think that had something to do with the way Gabe was smiling sympathetically at me, shaking his head a bit. I even found myself smiling a little too.

"Man, that's ridiculous," he said. "I'm buying you a real drink now." He went to stand up, but I stopped him by shaking my head at him and motioning for him to sit back down.

"No. Don't," I told him. "I don't really want or need one."

Gabe raised an eyebrow at me. "Well I've gotta do something because—dude—you've had a rough past two days. So what do you want?"

"Just to go back home, really," I muttered at the table, not really intending for him to hear me, but he did.

"I can do that," he said. I looked up and blinked at him in surprise. Gabe gave a short laugh through his nose, smiling. "Really, Cade. It's no problem. The friend that I can here with won't mind since he'll probably go home with some guy anyway." He stood up and took a few steps away from the table, then glance back at me over his shoulder. "C'mon."

I didn't move; I just stared at him a bit longer. I couldn't help it. Nobody was ever this nice to me, especially when they just met me, mainly because I'm not that nice to people. Though I suppose I was being nice to Gabe. I've realized that I do a lot of out of character things around him.

After about ten seconds of me just gaping at him, Gabe came back over to me, rolling his eyes. But he was smiling as he grabbed the sleeve of my shirt and started tugging on it. "Is it really that hard for you to believe?"

"Kind of. Yeah," I told him, standing up on my own since he was having no luck pulling me up.

"Well, just because you made me spill coffee down myself doesn't mean I hate you," he said. He gave me that mysterious grin of his before he started walking towards the exit. "Quite the opposite, actually."

Unsure of what he meant by that, I stared at his back until I realized that if I didn't follow him, I would lose sight of him in the crowd. So, I hurried to catch up with him, and when I was at his side, I saw that his eyes were laughing at me. I scowled at him, or tried to, and then looked away. "It was partially your fault, too," I muttered.

"What?" Gabe asked.

"The café. That wasn't entirely my fault," I told him.

"Oh. I know. It was the crazy pimp chick's," he laughed, and I couldn't help but chuckle a bit myself as he led me to his car.

So, he drove me home, both of us talking about random things when I didn't have to tell him what turn to take. It wasn't really small talk, because if it was, I would've had to kill myself. It was more of us just joking around about things, and sometimes asking questions about each other. But when he pulled up in front of my apartment building and shut his car off, both of us fell silent. Then after a about a minute of us just sitting there, Gabe cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Um. So…I'll see you around?" he said, sounding a bit put out. I couldn't really blame him either when I felt the same way. He's one of the few people I can be around and actually enjoy their company.

"Yeah." I nodded and met his eyes. "See you later." I put my hand on the door handle but made no attempt to open it or move. I just kept staring at him in the semidarkness, with him staring right back at me.

Then suddenly, my lips were attached to his. I'm not sure who moved first, but I didn't really care at the time since I was too busy kissing him. My hand was gripping the back of his neck, pulling him closer, while one of his arms was around my shoulders, doing the same to me. His tongue seemed to immediately find all of the places in my mouth that affected me the most. I tighten my grip on him, wrapping my other arm around his torso and literately pulled him over in my seat, onto my lap. It was a little bit uncomfortable the way we were sitting, but it was probably the most intense kiss I'd ever had.

And if you haven't realized by now that it's him lying next to me, then you're stupid. No offense or anything, though. I hadn't really expected it to happen either. But looking back on the encounters I'd had with him, then adding the fact that he was one of the few people I liked being around and that I was attracted to him, and it was pretty damn obvious, even if it wasn't at first.

I'm not sure how long we stayed, making-out, in his car, but I know it was a while before Gabe pulled away, panting. As he caught his breath, I started kissing and sucking his neck, not wanting our contact to stop. He gave a breathy laugh that turned into a low moan. I smirked against his skin.

"You—you wanna show me your…apartment?" he asked in between pants, and I chuckled.

"Sure," I told him, opening the door.

We stumbled out of the car and up the building's stairs to my apartment, stopping frequently in hallways or the middle of a staircase to kiss some more and to touch. Once we reached my apartment, with the door closed and locked behind us, we immediately started stripping each other. We tripped over things in the dark as we made our way to my room, but that didn't stop us. Because really, it'd been way too long since I'd had sex, and if I was going to be honest with myself, the sexual tension between Gabe and I had started in the library and then started growing the moment we'd run into each other in the club. He seemed pretty intent on this as well, if the way he pushed me down on my bed and climbed on top of me the moment we were both completely naked was anything to go by. And—well, you can guess what happened next.

Or if you can't, just use your imagination.

PRESENT

My eyes are killing me. And I'm so freaking tired. It's almost 3 AM and I just want to go to sleep. But I can't. I don't know why I can't either. I just can't.

Gabe murmurs something in his in sleep next to me, and I look over at him as he shifts around a bit but doesn't wake up. I watch him for a while, thinking once again of what's going to happen in the morning—of what he might want to make of this, and of what I want to make of this. I still can't figure it out.

A piece of hair falls into his eyes, and without even thinking about it, I reach over and brush it out of his face. He makes a sleepy noise, moves closer to me, still asleep, and slips his arm over my stomach, huddling himself against my side. I stare at him for a moment, surprised, and then hesitantly wrap my arm around him.

Within minutes, I'm asleep.

*

The first thought that goes through my mind as I wake up is that I'm alone in bed.

Gabe's not lying next to me.

He's gone.

I sigh and run a hand over my face. Well. That answers one of my questions. He apparently didn't want this to go any further than one night. I'm actually a little—I don't know—disappointed, I guess. I mean, I still don't know what I want—or rather, wanted from him. But he could have at least left a note or something before he just left. I kind of feel…rejected now.

And lonely.

Aw, fuck. I miss him, which makes no sense since I barely know him. But—fuck. That didn't stop me from thinking he was cute. Or from enjoying his company. Or from kissing him. Or—

"You're finally awake."

Startled, I bolt up right in my bed and stare wide-eyed at Gabe. He's standing in the doorway, still naked, smirking at me from over a mug of coffee. I gape at him as my heartbeat goes back to normal.

"You're still here?" I ask, bemused.

Gabe's smile falls off his face, and he just stares at me for a moment before he shakes his head, laughing bitterly. "Not for long," he says as he roughly sets his coffee down on my dresser then stalks out of my room.

For a few seconds, I just blink after him until my senses return to me, and then I quickly scramble out of my bed after him. It takes me a moment to find him, but when I do, he's in the living room, picking his clothes off the floor. I stop a ways from him, and just stare. He's already got his boxers on, and his shirt is hanging off his shoulder, un-buttoned. He looks up at me as he grabs his sock off the arm of my couch and scowls. I mentally shake myself.

"I didn't mean it like that," I tell him.

"Right," he says, obviously not believing me. He starts to pull his socks on, avoiding my gaze, and I run a hand through my hair, desperately trying to find the right words that will make him believe me.

"Gabe," I finally say, and he looks up at me expectantly with raised eyebrows. "It came out the wrong way, alright? I was just surprised because I'd thought you'd already left. I…" I drift off, gnashing my teeth together and giving him an unsure look.

When I don't continue, Gabe gives me a look then goes back to putting on his clothes. I make a frustrated noise, tugging at my hair with both hands and wondering when the hell I lost my balls. Then he starts going towards the door and I realize that I can't waste anymore time.

"Wait. Please," I say, taking several steps towards him. He looks over his shoulder at me, his hand on the doorknob, but not moving. I take a deep breath then continue. "I don't really know what I want of you yet. I don't know what you want of me. But I know that I don't want you to go right now, okay? I'll—I don't know—I'll get you breakfast or something. Then we can do whatever you want, alright? Just…please stay."

Gabe just stares at me for a long time with an unreadable expression, and I stand there, slightly awkward, forcing myself to keep my eyes on his. I'm basically holding my breath waiting for him to answer. And honestly, I can't describe to you how much I want him to say that he won't go. I just really, really want him to stay, even if it's just for a little bit.

Then finally, he takes his hand off the doorknob and walks back over to me, literately leaving only about an inch between us when he stops. He stares silently up at me for a bit longer, his bright blue-green eyes making me slightly dizzy. And it surprises me how intimidating he is, despite him being smaller than me. Oddly, I find it kind of hot, and I just really want to kiss him right now. But I don't since I don't know what he wants yet.

"You want to know what I want of you?" he asks, his voice low, and all I can do is nod since my mouth is too dry to speak. Something flickers in his eyes, and I swear he almost smirks. "Then you should know that I haven't been able to get you out of my freaking head since we bumped into each other at the café. Or the library. And I wasn't even sure you were gay until last night at the club. I'm not going to lie to you either and say that I didn't enjoy having sex with you and that I don't want it to happen again, because I do.

"So, Cade," Gabe says, smirking freely now, "this is what I want from you."

Then he yanks me down by my hair and kisses me, wrapping his arms around my neck to keep me in place. And I kiss him back, feeling oddly smug as I embrace him and start leading back to my room. Because honestly, I really like and want him.

So, I guess I don't really mind what happened two days ago.