On the Edge of Love (CarlxAlan)

Chapter 12: Alan

I felt like a zombie walking into school Monday morning. My brain was fried, my limbs felt heavy, and no amount of coffee was fixing it.

I barely slept after that dream. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt Carl's hands pulling me closer, his mouth against mine, and—God, I needed to stop thinking about it.

I had no idea how I was supposed to look him in the eye today.

The hallway was packed as I walked to my locker, the usual Monday chaos making my headache worse. People laughed, shoved each other, caught up on whatever weekend drama I'd completely ignored.

I should've been thinking about my math test. Or my English paper. Or literally anything besides Carl's hands on me, his mouth against my neck—

I exhaled sharply and smacked my forehead against my locker door. Focus.

I spun my combination too fast and had to redo it, cursing under my breath.

"Uh... you good?"

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Carl stood a few feet away, watching me with a raised eyebrow. His hair was still damp from the morning rain, curling a little at the ends.

He looked too normal. Like nothing had changed. Like I hadn't spent the entire night dreaming about—

I swallowed hard, gripping my locker door. "Yeah. Just tired."

Carl didn't move closer. Usually, he'd lean against the locker next to mine, maybe nudge me in greeting. But today, there was space between us, and I couldn't tell if that was my doing or his.

"...Did you, uh, have a good weekend?" he asked after a beat.

I blinked at him. Was this weird? This felt weird. Were we being weird?

"Yeah," I lied, yanking my books out of my locker. "You?"

"Yeah." He nodded but didn't say anything else.

The silence stretched.

This was weird.

I shut my locker too hard, the metal door rattling. "Cool. Well. See you in math."

I turned before he could respond, walking way too fast toward homeroom.

I was being a coward.

I knew I was being a coward.

But I still spent most of the morning avoiding him.

I wasn't completely obvious about it—I answered when he spoke to me, made some dumb jokes during math class, even laughed when he snorted at something I said. But I didn't look at him. Not for too long. Not in a way that would make me start thinking too much.

Because if I thought too much, I'd have to acknowledge that the dream wasn't just some random fluke.

And if I acknowledged that, then I'd have to acknowledge what it meant.

I wasn't ready for that yet.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was exhausted from overthinking.

I sat at my usual table, poking at my sandwich, when Carl slid into the seat across from me.

"You've been weird all day," he said, straight to the point.

I tensed. "What? No, I haven't."

Carl gave me a flat look. "Alan."

I shoved half my sandwich in my mouth so I wouldn't have to respond.

He sighed, drumming his fingers against the table. "Look, if you regret what you said Friday—"

"I don't," I interrupted, too fast. I swallowed my food, shifting in my seat. "I don't regret it."

His expression softened. "Okay. Then what's wrong?"

I hesitated, picking at the crust of my sandwich.

I didn't want to lie to him. But telling the truth meant admitting that I'd woken up sweating from a dream about him. That I kept seeing our entire childhood in flashes, trying to make sense of what I felt. That I was terrified of ruining everything between us.

Instead, I said, "I'm just... still figuring things out."

Carl nodded slowly, watching me. "That's okay."

I glanced up at him, surprised.

He gave a small shrug. "I mean, I don't expect you to have everything figured out overnight. I just—" He hesitated, lowering his voice. "I don't want to lose you as a friend because of this."

"You won't," I said quickly.

His lips quirked up in a tiny, barely-there smile. "Promise?"

I felt something loosen in my chest.

I nodded. "Promise."