Boy Trouble GT

Chapter 18

[MASON]

It had been a few nights since their game of Snap, but Mason couldn't stop thinking about it—or rather, he couldn't stop thinking about Kye. It wasn't the game itself, or even Kye losing so miserably (though Mason had been basking in that victory for days). It was something about the way Kye had laughed, the way he'd let his guard down just enough for Mason to see the real him.

And now, Mason was dancing around feelings he wasn't sure he should even be having.

He hadn't said anything to anyone—not his friends, not even Kye. It wasn't like he could put the feelings into words anyway. They were too jumbled, too confusing. All he knew was that lately, he found himself drifting toward Kye without even realizing it.

Like now, for instance.

Kye was standing in the kitchen, his tall, lanky frame hunched slightly as he stirred something in a giant-sized bowl. Mason wasn't even sure what it was—some kind of noodles, maybe—but that wasn't what had drawn him in. Mason leaned casually against Kye's leg like it was a pole, his small frame dwarfed by Kye's height.

Kye glanced down at him, his gray eyes flicking over Mason's face before returning to the bowl. "Do you always have to use me as a piece of furniture?" Kye asked, his voice low and dry, though there was no real irritation in it.

Mason grinned, tilting his head back to look up at him. "Well, you're conveniently located," he said, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. "And sturdy. Can't say that about most people."

Kye huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head, but he didn't move away. Mason stayed where he was, leaning into the warmth of Kye's leg, feeling oddly... comfortable. Safe. He couldn't explain why, but being close to Kye had started to feel like second nature.

Later that night, they were on the lounge again, the TV playing some mindless show neither of them was really paying attention to. Mason sat on one end, but his body kept betraying him, shuffling closer until he was leaning into Kye's side.

Kye's long frame was sprawled out across most of the couch, his pale arms stretched along the backrest, his legs bent at awkward angles to fit the space. Mason didn't even bother with subtlety anymore; he let his head rest against Kye's chest, using him like a giant pillow.

At first, Kye stiffened. Mason could feel the tension in his body, the way his shoulders tightened and his breath hitched slightly. But then, slowly, Kye relaxed. He didn't say anything, didn't push Mason off or tell him to move. And Mason knew—if this was something Kye wasn't okay with, he'd already be scrambling back to his room, muttering some excuse as he went.

Instead, Kye stayed. And that only made Mason's heart beat harder.

He didn't know why he kept doing this—leaning on Kye, drifting closer to him without thinking, seeking him out whenever they were in the same room. But it was becoming a habit, one he couldn't bring himself to break. He found himself looking for Kye in places he never used to. Like when he was at track practice, he'd scan the edge of the field, hoping to catch a glimpse of his roommate standing off to the side, awkward but present.

And when Kye wasn't there, Mason couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Mason hadn't spoken his feelings out loud—not to himself, not to anyone else. But he was noticing the shift in how he felt, the way his attention always seemed to gravitate toward Kye.

He noticed it when they sat on the lounge together, when he'd instinctively press closer, his arm brushing against Kye's side. He noticed it when Kye would mutter something sarcastic, and Mason would catch himself grinning like an idiot. He noticed it in the way his chest felt lighter whenever Kye laughed, that rare, genuine sound that Mason always wanted to hear more of.