I slept on the couch.

Out of all the questions that had popped up throughout the day, sleeping on the couch was the easiest decision I had to make.

I mean, how was I supposed to share a mattress after Rowan – after he – I couldn't. I was spiralling. Everything was spiralling. If I'd thought that college had thrown me off-guard, Rowan was an entire new galaxy of confusion. Problems. Questions.

I couldn't face him. I couldn't face it.

So, I slept on the couch.

And even then, slept was the wrong word. How could I sleep after all that? Every time I even closed my eyes – no, sleep would not come. Attempted to sleep was more accurate.

I couldn't stop thinking about the kiss. About Rowan. I couldn't stop replaying the entire night in my head. I analysed every word, every movement. I thought about the way his leg would brush mine when we sat beside each other, the looks we shared. I thought about leading him up to my room, how he leaned against my dresser, looking down at me. I thought about what he'd said to me – why he'd attended my lectures, why he was always there, reading, watching, teasing.

I thought about the way he grabbed my face and kissed me.

And then, when I'd memorised the exact spots his fingers had grazed, the way his mouth had moved against mine, I started to replay our entire semester – every moment I'd spent with him, spoken to him, seen him.

None of it made sense.

He'd hated me. Sure, he was at my economics lecture, but he'd insulted me there. And yeah, he was at all my soccer practices, but I'd thought he'd just liked reading outdoors. Although, it had been strange that he'd wanted to read at a spot where being hit by a stray soccer ball was a highly likely risk. it wasn't like we spoke, at least, not for a long time. And then when we did speak, it was all insults.

Suddenly, the words he'd said to me flashed in my mind again – dumb athlete – and I was stirring all over again.

I groaned, flipping on my side, and dragging my fingers over my face. I felt like shit. I couldn't stop thinking, and thinking, and thinking.

It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense.

I liked girls. I had liked Aspen just months ago. I'd had girlfriends. That was real, right? It felt real at the time. And yet, I couldn't stop thinking about Rowan.

I couldn't stop thinking about his lips pressing against mine and feeling my stomach stir at the memory of his thumb brushing against my throat. I couldn't help but wonder –

Before my mind could wander any further, I slapped my hands against my face.

What was happening to me?

Shifting onto my back, I dug my phone out of my pocket, only groaning again when I realised the sun wouldn't rise for another three hours. I was exhausted and wide awake all at once and I knew I wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon.

So, I opened Google and I began to search.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

"Sebastian."

"Seb."

"Wake up."

I woke with a start, shooting onto my elbows to find my mother staring at me with a frown on her face. The room was bright – too bright.

"What time is it?" I groaned. When had I even fallen asleep? I spun, searching for my phone, only to find it had rolled across the carpet sometime in the night.

"Eight," my mother said. "You need to get up before your siblings' fiancés find you sleeping on the couch like some sort of delinquent."

I ignored her, throwing my legs off the couch, and running my hands over my face and through my hair. I was exhausted. What had happened last night? When did I fall asleep?

I was on my phone searching –

And it hit me all at once.

Rowan.

I bolted off of the couch, tripping over the blanket and carpet, almost knocking over a lamp in the process.

"Sebastian!" my mother scolded.

"Sorry!" I shouted over my shoulder, kicking the blanket away and making for the staircase. I snatched my phone up from the floor half-way through. "I need to check something!"

I bolted up the stairs, taking two at a time before pausing in front of my bedroom door. My hand paused over the doorknob, hesitating. 

I hadn't seen him since last night. What if he was already awake? What would I say? What would I do?

I sucked in a deep breath, clasping the handle and slowly – so slowly – opening the door. It creaked open and I poked my head around the corner, scanning the bed.

The empty bed.

And the open window.

"Shit!"

I shoved the door completely open, searching the room for any sign of life. Nothing. He was gone.

I spun on my heels, storming next door where Chloe was sleeping. I slammed the door open, and she turned in her bed, her hair strewn all over her face.

"What?" she groaned, her voice groggy with sleep.

"Rowan's gone."

She groaned again, flipping, and burying her face in the pillow. "I know."

I blinked.

"You know?"

"I know," she confirmed. "Now, can you leave me alone to sleep?"

I marched towards her, grabbing the back of her t-shirt and yanking her face off the pillow. She yelped, twisting so that I released her, and sitting up to face me.

"What do you mean you know?"

"Well, I saw him leave," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Duh."

"You saw him leave?"

"That's what I said."

"You saw him leave and you said nothing?" I was yelling now. "You didn't – didn't stop him or anything?"

I grabbed at my face, my mind racing. What was I supposed to do now? Where was I supposed to look? I should – I should – I should call him. Yes. I should call him.

I looked to my phone, immediately finding his number, and calling.

"Come on, come on," I muttered to myself, but it didn't even ring.

He'd blocked me.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit –"

"Seb," Chloe said, her usual sharp tone piercing through me. I forced myself to look at her and she frowned. "What happened?"

I stared at her. Stared at the worry in her eyes. Stared at her, sitting in my family's bed on Thanksgiving, all because her parents hadn't accepted who she was.

And I collapsed.

"I just – I – I really fucked up, Chloe. Like really bad. I just – he – I mean – he..." I trailed over, running my hand over my face with a groan.

Chloe stared at me from the bed. She'd never been good at comforting people.

"It's fine," she said, her voice raspy with sleep. She yawned before continuing. "You'll see him back at college soon, won't you?"

I stayed quiet. My mind raced. Everything was going wrong. Slowly, I looked up, meeting Chloe's eyes.

"Chloe," I said, my voice tiny. "How did you know you were gay?"

She blinked at me. And her frown vanished, twitching into a tiny smile. She stood from the bed, crossing the room to kneel beside me on the carpet and hug me. Her nails ran over my short hair and I melted into her embrace.

"I just knew," she muttered. "It was never a big awakening thing for me. I just always liked girls. I never even questioned it."

"Oh."

She was quiet for a moment, and I could hear my heart thudding in my ears through the silence of the room.

And then she said, "Look, Seb. I don't know what happened last night. I don't know what happened with Rowan. I was just outside the house having a smoke when I saw him drop from your window. He seemed – I don't know. Sad? He said he had to go visit his family."

Family.

My heart fell and I remembered what he'd said that night we'd gotten drunk on the soccer field. The night he'd run his fingers through my hair and chopped it all off. He had no family. Not anymore. At least, I didn't think he did.

I frowned. There was only one person who would know. One person who seemed to know everything about everyone.

"Chlo," I said, pulling back to send her a weak smile. "Thank you. I need to make this right."

She didn't question me, only released me so that I could walk back to my room and call Flora.

Flora answered on the third ring.

"Seb!" she said. "Happy Thanksgiving!"

"You too," I muttered. "Look, I really fucked up last night. I – well – Rowan, he... he kissed me." I spoke quickly, trying to gloss over the words, but Flora was faster.

"I knew it!" she squealed. "I knew it! From the first day of soccer practice, when I saw him, I just – wait. Why do you sound upset about it?"

"Because I ran away."

"You what!" I heard her take a shuddering breath over the line, then a soft click of a door shutting before she continued, "Why did you run away?"

I hesitated. "I don't know. I just – I didn't know what to do."

"Well, I mean, did you like it?"

"What?"

"Like it," she repeated. "Like the kiss."

"I'm not gay."

"Seb," she interrupted, her voice turning soft. "Did you like the kiss?"

I thought about it. I thought about his lips on mine. The stirring in my stomach as his thumb stroked my throat. My head fell into my hands.

Fucking hell.

"I did," I admitted in a whisper.

Flora was silent for a moment.

And then she said, "Seb..."

"I'm not gay," I repeated quickly. "I mean, I've liked girls before. I've had girlfriends."

"Seb," she repeated. "You could be something else. I mean... I'm bisexual. Maybe you are too?"

"Bi?" I murmured to myself.

I knew what it was. I'd always been aware. And last night, it had been the top result of all my Google searches and Buzzfeed quizzes, but hearing it now, in the day light, out loud. It was scary.

"Look, it doesn't matter what you want to label yourself as. What really matters right now is, you should probably go talk to Rowan."

I blinked, Flora's words taking me back to the reality of the situation.

"Right," I said. "Right. That was the whole reason I was calling you. He left. During the night. Told someone that he's visiting family. Do you know if he has any family? Anyone he might go to in the middle of the night?"

"Family? No. Rowan... He hasn't got anyone that I know of." She hummed and I could feel my hope disappearing with every helpless second that passed. "If I had to guess where he's gone, I'd say he's back at college. Probably reading somewhere. You know him."

Reading.

I sighed, my eyes falling shut in relief.

"I know where he is."

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

He was at the soccer field.

He was sitting where he always sat. His stupid book, open in his lap. He hadn't even bothered to change – still wearing the same hoodie and sweatpants, and I wondered if he still had that t-shirt on underneath. The one that showed the edges of his collarbones.

I swallowed, shaking my head and storming towards him.

"Rowan!" I shouted, halfway across the grass.

He jolted, his entire body turning tense, but his eyes not leaving the pages. He stared blankly ahead, working to keep his expression neutral.

It pissed me off.

"Rowan!" I repeated. He didn't look up.

I leaned down, ripping the book from his hands and throwing it onto the grass a few feet away. He shot up, going on the defensive.

"What the –"

"Oh, so know you want to look at me?"

He withered at that, his eyes immediately falling back to the floor. I snarled, shoving his shoulders. He stumbled back, gaze snapping up to mine.

"Where the hell did you go?" His eyes flickered down, and I shoved him again, forcing him to look at me. "Why did you block me? I just drove three fucking hours, worried, not even knowing if you'd be here!"

"Worried?" he scoffed. His eyes turned ablaze, finally matching my anger, refusing to leave my stare. "Worried? Stop, Sebastian. Seriously. It's not funny anymore. It never was."

"Funny?" I echoed. "I'm not trying to be funny, dumb ass. I was worried sick."

He looked at me then. His eyes roamed my face, probably catching the bags lining my eyes, the worry written beneath them. He looked over my body, realising that I – just like him – hadn't bothered to change. Even my shoes were mismatched, the result of sprinting out of my house on Thanksgiving morning.

All for him.

His body sagged then, his voice turning weak. "Stop, Seb. I just – I need you to stop."

"Stop?" I repeated. "You keep saying that, but I'm not doing anything! Stop what?"

"Stop leading me on!" he snapped finally. My heart sunk and he stared at me, anger and sadness and fear ripping through his voice – his eyes. His voice cracked as he yelled, turning to a rasp, and he shoved my chest with no strength. "Stop leading me on. Stop pretending you care. Stop acting like you're worried. Stop touching me. Stop looking at me, like you – you... Please. Just stop."

I frowned, all anger leaving me with a sigh.

I'd done this to him. He'd opened up, he'd bared all his feelings to me. He kissed me. And I left him. I ran away.

I abandoned him.

"Rowan," I breathed. I stepped forward. My entire body felt hot and I yearned to reach out to him, to touch him. But he'd told me to stop. My hands fell to my sides and I clenched my fists. "I'm sorry."

He was silent, his eyes trained carefully on the ground.

"I didn't mean to – I was just..." I sighed again before quietly cursing and saying, "Look. I was confused. Am confused. I just – I have no idea what I'm doing anymore. I don't know who I am anymore. College has just flipped everything upside down for me, you know?"

I barked out a bitter laugh, throwing a look across the soccer field, at the empty campus. Ghost town.

"I have no fucking friends," I muttered. "I don't even know my own fucking sexuality anymore. But you – I know how I feel about you."

He looked up then, finally meeting my eyes with his own wide brown ones – the opposite of mine.

"I don't know what it means," I admitted. "I don't know where – where this will go. But I know that... I know that I liked the kiss. I liked it when you kissed me and I – I want to – I mean – I wish..."

I blinked, realising he was smirking at me, and I warmed, looking away.

"Don't laugh," I said.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not!"

"Well, you're smirking like you're about to."

His fingers brushed mine, enticing me to meet his eyes, and his smirk had softened to a smile.

"Sorry," he said. "I won't laugh. Please. Continue."

I rolled my eyes. "No, I don't think I will. Your ego's inflated enough."

"No, go on. I think you were about to say something about what you wanted to do."

"I want to slap you right now."

"Oh," he hummed. "Kinky."

I shoved him, frowning. "You're not taking me seriously –"

He swallowed the last half of my sentence, his lips pressing against mine. His hands grabbed my shirt collar, shoving me hard against the wall behind us.

And it was everything it was the first time – better. Everything, and more, and better in every way.

"I'm taking you very seriously," Rowan said, pulling back to regard me with blown pupils. He licked his lips – literally licked his lips – and his thumb found my throat, knocking against my Adam's apple.

"God," I whispered, and I could feel his breath hot against my mouth. "I feel like I'm going to burst."

"Then fucking burst."

And he kissed me again.

His teeth brushed against my lip and his tongue was in my mouth and I was burning. He pressed me further into the wall, the back of my head catching on brick, and my hand fell from his back to his thigh, clawing there, pulling him closer, and up, and – and –

"Wait," I muttered against his mouth and he pulled back with a groan, like it physically pained him to stop.

"What?"

"We're in the middle of campus," I said pointedly.

His lips twitched. "And?"

"And." I wanted to murder this boy. "Shouldn't we take this somewhere more private?"

His brow lifted, carefully, teasingly. "What are you insinuating, Sebastian?"

"What are you imagining, Rowan?"

"I'm imagining a lot of things," he rasped. "It starts like this."

His lips traced a path from my mouth to my jaw, pausing beneath my ear. His hand flattened against my hip, our bodies pressed tight, and I swallowed, grabbing his collar, and pulling him up to meet my eyes.

"Who's leading who on now?"

"Hey, you asked," he said, smiling cheekily.

My grip on his thigh tightened and my voice came out husky when I said, "We should take this elsewhere."

He barked out a laugh. "Who would've thought a space nerd would have such a filthy mind?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're one to talk."

"I am, aren't I?" He grinned, white teeth flashing at me, like a Cheshire cat. "You know, you gave me a secret. It's only fair I give you one in return."

I hummed, suddenly curious.

"I used to be a ballet geek," he said with a flourish.

I laughed. "That is such a cliché."

"Isn't it?" he agreed. "I was just obsessed with it all. I think it's what tipped my parents off in the first place, which is just so stereotypical, by the way. Anyway, could never afford to go to any or take any classes, so I became a book nerd instead."

"Fucking nerd," I muttered, and I pulled him into a kiss. His morning stubble rubbed against my jaw and I released him just as quickly as I'd grabbed him. "Meet you in my dorm. Ten minutes."

And I stormed past him, one hand adjusting my pants as the other fished for my car keys.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Eight minutes later, after I'd dumped my bags in the corner of the room and texted Chloe where I was, there was a knock on the door.

I opened it to find Rowan smiling at me – his usual arrogant smile. He looked over my shoulder, taking the room in.

"Wow," he said. "I should've gotten into the whole athlete thing. You guys get some fancy rooms."

"Get the fuck in here," I said, grabbing his shoulder and tugging him in.

"Bossy." He laughed, but tugged his hoodie off, heading straight for the bed. "Get on the bed."

"Who's bossy now?" I teased, obeying anyway. Ignoring the way my stomach knotted with anticipation. I sat at the edge of the bed and he looked down at me, staring for a moment. Hungry.

"Well?" I said.

He leaned towards me, pushing on my chest until I was laying down, him between my legs, a knee pressing onto the mattress, a hand against my hip. And he was kissing me. It was slow this time. We weren't in a rush.

He kissed me slowly and deliberately, every movement calculated. He clawed at my hair, groaning when the short strands slipped through my fingers and muttering against my lips, "Too fucking short."

"And who's fault is that?" I shot back.

He ignored me, attaching his mouth to my neck. His teeth grazed the skin there, his hands moving to explore my chest. I felt like I was dying. His teeth grazed my throat again. I was definitely dying. Or maybe I had already died and been sent to heaven.

He broke away to tug at my t-shirt. "Get this off."

I complied and he stared at my chest.

"What?" I asked.

"Just appreciating all those early morning practices," he replied.

I quirked a brow, grabbing his collar and pulling him in for another kiss. He hovered over me, his hips grinding down against mine for a moment and I groaned, my breath catching.

"If I knew kissing you would lead to all this, I would've done this a long time ago," he said.

I laughed. "If I knew I was – whatever I am – I would've done this a long time ago."

"Right," he said. "Shouldn't we take this slower?"

"Slower?" I echoed, as if I wasn't half naked, and Rowan wasn't grinding onto me in the middle of my bedroom.

"Yes, slower, you big idiot," he said. "You just – I don't know. I mean, you don't know. Right? What if – what if you change your mind? What if you wake up tomorrow and you regret everything?"

I couldn't help but laugh. "Rowan, if anything, I regret not doing this earlier. I'm not going to change my mind. I'm – well, I'm something. Bisexual. Maybe. Maybe something else. But definitely not straight."

"Not straight?" he repeated.

"Not straight," I confirmed.

"Good," he said. "I'm gay."

"I know."

"Just figured if you were coming out to me, it was only fair that I came out to you."

"I think you did that when you kissed me and confessed to stalking me the past semester."

He scoffed. "Stalking is a bit of a stretch."

"Would you please just kiss me again?"

And he did.

He kissed me. And kissed me. And kissed me for what felt like hours. I stretched across the mattress, letting his tongue slide over mine, letting his lips explore my skin. I flipped him, and straddled him, and tore his shirt off his back. I fumbled with his pants, tugging them awkwardly off his legs.

And he let me. He let me explore his body, my lips trailing down his chest. Sliding over him. And his hands grabbed at the short strands of hair on my head – muttering a "too fucking short" – and his hips jerked upwards, and his head fell backwards against the mattress, and we were both fucking exploding.

And then he was kissing me again.

Hard and sloppily. Stickily. And it's peppered with words. Some that sound like baby and some that sound more along the lines of every curse word imaginable. And his hands slid down my chest, tugged at the waistband of my boxers, and he whispered, "Are you sure?"

And a nod was all it took.

I watched with slight amazement as he brought his palm to his mouth, wetting it, before reaching back for my waistband. And then he was taking me apart, piece by piece, with just his fingertips. And then with more.

And afterwards, we lay against the mattress, sweaty bodies, and tangled legs.

I lifted myself onto an elbow, staring at his face. Staring at the way he stared at me. Thinking vaguely about how this was a thing now, apparently. How the Sebastian from high school would have gawked at the mere suggestion of something like this occurring.

Hell, Sebastian from a month ago would've laughed like it was the funniest joke ever told.

"What are you thinking about?" Rowan asked. He watched me, and I knew what he was really asking – if I regretted this. If I'd changed my mind. If I'd abandon him again.

I released a tiny breath, my fingers grazing his chest, flattening over his heart. His pulse quickened beneath my fingertips and I smiled.

"I'm glad we left my parents' house," I said finally.

And he laughed.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Super long chapter for you guys hehe this was originally 2 chapters but I thought yall suffered enough last time let me know what you thought!!!

Next time: the final chapter, then the epilogue...