I Think I Love You | Randy

track 09. vienna - billy joel

Too bad, but it's the life that you lead. You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need.

***

I woke up with not a lot of clothes and even and even fewer memories about what had happened after Brook and I stumbled out of the party. We were angry, I could remember that much. Anger had led to kissing. What kissing had led to, I was still fuzzy on.

I rolled over in bed and looked at Brook sprawled out next to me. He was shirtless, brown hair a haphazard mess. His face was smooshed into the pillow, steady breathing indicating he was still asleep. We'd been heading in this direction for a while yet it was strange to be waking up next to him, the intimacy of the situation feeling unearned. I sighed, flipping back the covers to drag myself out of bed.

The apartment was quiet. Rye's door was open, his empty bedroom clearly visible from where I was standing in the kitchen. The sight of his untouched sheets sent a pang of worry through me. I chewed on my lip as the water boiled, considering whether or not I should text him, but I repressed the urge. I needed to stop acting like his babysitter, and there was no reasonable cause for concern this early. If the jerking off incident and the party had proven anything, it was that I needed to give him his space. It wasn't something I used to struggle with with him, but I supposed somewhere in the midst of spending an entire summer together, not having a boyfriend anymore, and moving to a new place together, I'd started to cling on to him. It wasn't doing us any good, and I definitely needed to chill if I was to get the old us back. Because the old us was easy.

Still, I couldn't help but wonder whose bed he was waking up in this morning.

The front door opened just as I was pouring the teas, the sigh of relief that fell from my lips making me realise just how much worry I had been harbouring despite trying not to. Rye looked almost caught out when he saw me in the kitchen. He froze, his hand clapping up quickly to the side of his neck.

"Hey," he said abruptly.

"Hey." I looked him up and down, full of questions but unsure which ones were okay to ask. So instead of probing, I opted for the most British form of reconciliation I could muster. "You want a cuppa?"

"Uh, no thanks," he said, his hand still positioned awkwardly. He made a beeline for his room, acting a little too suspicious for me to continue coolly ignoring.

"You got a hickey or something?"

He turned around, sheepishly lowering his hand to reveal the trail of dark purple bruises lining the side of his neck. Impressive.

"You know you don't have to hide it from me, Ryan, I'm not your mum," I reminded him.

"I know that," he snapped, continuing into his room and closing the door behind him. I chose to ignore his strange behaviour. He was still pissy with me, I guessed.

I shrugged it off, taking the two teas back into my bedroom. Brooklyn was awake, looking very groggy as he sat up in my bed looking around him like he didn't know where he was- which I realised was very possible.

"You weren't kidnapped, I swear," I joked, handing him his tea. A grin split his face at the sight of me.

"Thank you," he said, grasping the mug with both hands. "Not gonna lie, I was worried for a minute there."

"Last night was... interesting," I hummed, perching down on the edge of my bed.

"It certainly was." There was a moment of silence as we sipped our teas as I was just dying to ask him what had happened between us. "We didn't have sex, Andy," he said, reading my thoughts.