On the Edge of Love (CarlxAlan)

Chapter 11: Alan

Carl's laugh filled the room, bright and familiar, as he tossed a handful of popcorn at me from across my bed.

"Dude," I groaned, brushing stray pieces from my hoodie. "You're the worst."

Carl grinned, slouching against my pillows like he owned the place. "You're just mad because I'm winning."

I rolled my eyes, but he wasn't wrong. We'd been playing some old racing game on my Xbox for the past hour, and he'd beaten me four times in a row.

"This controller is rigged," I muttered, pretending to inspect the buttons.

"Yeah, sure," Carl teased, stretching his legs out. One of his socked feet bumped against my knee. Neither of us moved away.

The room was dim, lit only by the blue glow of my TV. Outside, the wind whistled against the window, but in here, it was warm—comfortable.

Carl shifted beside me, his knee knocking into mine again, and suddenly, I wasn't focused on the game anymore.

I glanced at him, my heart beating a little too fast. He was watching the screen, completely unaware of the fact that I couldn't stop looking at him. His dark eyes flicked back and forth as he focused on the race, his lips slightly parted in concentration.

Before I knew what I was doing, I nudged him playfully. "You cheat."

He scoffed. "You suck."

I huffed, setting my controller aside. "Whatever."

Carl laughed again, but this time, when I turned to face him, something in the air felt... different.

He must have felt it too, because his smile faded slightly, his gaze flickering to mine. His knee was still pressed against mine, solid and warm, and neither of us moved.

I swallowed. "Carl—"

He leaned in first.

Or maybe I did.

Either way, the second our lips touched, my mind went blank.

It wasn't careful. It wasn't slow. It was immediate, desperate, like something had been building between us for years and had finally snapped.

Carl's hands tangled in my hoodie, pulling me closer, and I didn't stop him. I couldn't stop him. My fingers slid into his hair, and he made a sound—a quiet, breathless noise that sent heat rushing through me.

I didn't think. I didn't hesitate. I just kissed him back, deeper, harder, like I could lose myself in this. In him.

His hands slipped under my hoodie, fingers brushing against my stomach, and suddenly—

I gasped, my eyes snapping open.

I wasn't in my room with Carl.

I was alone.

I sat up so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash, my breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts.

It was dark. My room was quiet. The only sound was my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

It was a dream.

Just a dream.

I exhaled shakily, running a hand over my face. My whole body was tense, my skin still warm, my heart still racing.

What the hell.

I'd never had a dream like that before. Not about him.

I threw off my blankets, my chest too tight, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The clock on my nightstand read 4:13 AM, but there was no way I was going back to sleep after that.

I needed to move.

I padded downstairs in my socks, heading straight for the kitchen. The tile was cold beneath my feet, grounding me.

I grabbed a granola bar from the counter and ripped it open, taking a bite even though I wasn't really hungry.

What did this mean?

Did I want that? Had I always wanted that? Or was my brain just messing with me?

I groaned quietly, rubbing my temples.

I turned toward the hall, ready to head back upstairs, but then something caught my eye.

A cardboard box sat on the floor near the closet, half-open. My mom must have been cleaning again.

Curious, I crouched down and pulled the lid the rest of the way off. Inside were stacks of old photo albums, the kind she used to keep when I was little.

I pulled one out and flipped it open.

The first few pages were baby pictures—me in a tiny baseball cap, me covered in cake at my first birthday party—but as I flipped through, the photos changed.

They became us.

Me and Carl.

At first, we were little—missing teeth, scraped knees, grinning like we ruled the world.

Carl in my backyard, shoving an ice pop in my face. Me in his living room, wearing a superhero cape he'd let me borrow. Both of us at some elementary school field day, standing side by side, arms slung around each other.

As the pages turned, we got older.

Middle school pictures. A camping trip with his family. Eighth grade, wearing matching stupid sunglasses we thought were cool.

Freshman year, sitting on my bedroom floor, laughing so hard we were blurry.

And then one from last summer—Carl at the lake, shaking water out of his hair while I stood beside him, watching.

I stared at that one a little too long.

My chest ached.

This was Carl. My best friend. The person I'd known forever.

And yet...

I closed the album and set it back in the box.

I wasn't sure what scared me more—the fact that I might want more with Carl... or the fact that I might ruin everything if I tried.