On the Edge of Love (CarlxAlan)

Chapter 23: Carl

Sleeping at Elie's house wasn't the plan. At least, I hadn't planned on it. But at some point, after the pool had been abandoned and everyone had migrated inside, the idea of going home felt unnecessary. Everyone else was staying. No one wanted the night to end.

And maybe, just maybe, I didn't want it to end either.

Elie tossed out blankets and pillows like it was her job, claiming every inch of floor space in the living room. Some people crashed on the couch, others in sleeping bags on the floor, and somehow, Alan and I ended up in the guest room with a mattress thrown onto the floor, just for us.

It was the first time we'd ever been alone like this.

At night.

Lying down together.

I tried not to let that freak me out.

Alan had changed into a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt Mason had loaned him. His hair was still damp from the pool, curling slightly at the ends. The overhead light was off, but the glow from the hallway cast long shadows over the room.

It should have been easy. It was just sleeping.

But when we both slid under the same blanket, leaving inches of space between us, my brain refused to shut off.

It was weird, because Alan and I had gotten close before—flirty moments, stolen touches, even the kiss we'd shared earlier. But this was different.

This was... intimate.

I swallowed hard and turned onto my side, facing him.

"You good?" Alan asked, voice quiet.

I nodded. "Yeah. You?"

He hummed in response, shifting slightly so he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His fingers twitched against the blanket, and I wondered if he was feeling the same nerves I was.

After a moment, he spoke again.

"The party was really great," he murmured. "I mean it."

I smiled a little. "I'm glad. You deserve it."

Alan let out a small breath. "I don't know. It just... I've never had something like that before."

"What, a birthday party?"

"No, I mean—" He hesitated. "People who care that much."

I frowned. "Alan—"

"I know my friends care, obviously," he said quickly. "But it's different when someone goes out of their way like that. And you—" He paused, biting his lip. "You went out of your way."

My chest ached.

"Of course, I did," I said quietly.

Alan turned his head toward me.

"I wanted you to have a good night," I admitted. "And I wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

Alan didn't say anything for a second, but I could see the way his lips parted slightly, like he was holding back words.

And then, finally—

"I think I'm ready to not keep this relationship such a secret in public."

My breath hitched. "Yeah?"

He gave a small nod. "I mean, not—obviously. But I don't want you to feel like I don't care about you when we're around other people."

I swallowed hard, staring at him.

This was a big deal.

Alan had been so careful about keeping us a secret, about making sure no one found out. And now, he was saying—

I exhaled slowly. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

"I know," he murmured. "But I want to."

My heart pounded.

Neither of us moved for a long time.

Then Alan let out a small, nervous laugh. "This is weird, right?"

I snorted. "A little."

He turned onto his side, mirroring me. Our faces were close now, just a few inches apart.

Slowly, hesitantly, I reached out and let my hand rest against his wrist.

Alan didn't pull away.

He just exhaled softly, then shifted closer, until his forehead brushed against mine.

The moment stretched between us, delicate and warm.

Then Alan sighed, barely above a whisper. "I'm tired."

I smiled. "Then sleep."

He didn't argue.

I felt him relax, his body settling into mine, his breathing evening out.

And before I even realized it was happening, we had fallen asleep, tangled together under the blankets, the weight of the night pressing around us like something sacred.