Page 44 of Caden & Theo
“But this does,” he murmurs. “Right now. You. Me.”
My nod is slow and sure. I nudge our foreheads together. “So… I love you too. Just in case that wasn’t obvious.”
His grin is instant, boyish and wrecked andeverything. “Yeah,” he whispers. “It was. But hearing you say it? Kinda makes me wanna float through the ceiling.”
“Don’t,” I say, tugging him closer. “I just want to keep you in this bed.”
With that, the tension between us dissolves into something weightless. Like finally saying the words made space for the next part of us.
Together.
For real.
We snuggle close, arms wrapped around each other, our legs tangled beneath the sheets. The silence between us doesn’t feel empty. It’s rich and full—weighted with everything we’ve shared, everything we’ve just said. For the first time in weeks, maybe longer, I feel like I can fully breathe.
Caden gently, aimlessly traces soft lines along my spine with his fingers, like he’s trying to catalog every inch of me. My own hand rests beneath his ribs, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. Each inhale is deep and even, like he’s finally relaxed. Like we both are.
But even as I sink into the warmth of him, there’s a quiet pressure building in my chest. I don’t want to think about what comes next, but I can’t stop it from creeping in.
Tomorrow, I have to leave.
And it’s not fair. We just found our way back to each other. We said what we’ve been holding back for months. We crossed a line that changes everything. It felt easy—natural. Everything between me and Caden does.
Now I’m supposed to say goodbye all over again?
The thought hurts. It settles low in my gut, making everything feel heavier. Still, I don’t let it show. I won’t let it ruin this. Not tonight. Because tonight is ours.
We’ve worked so hard to get here—to trust each other, to love each other in the way we both needed. We made space for something real, and I’m not going to let dread steal that away.
I shift and press a kiss to Caden’s shoulder. My lips linger there, soft against his skin, and I close my eyes.
We’ll figure it out. I believe that. The distance won’t undo what we’ve built together. It won’t erase the way he looks at me, the way his touch makes me feel grounded and wanted and known.
Tomorrow will come, and I’ll get in that car and drive away. But that’s not what matters right now. Right now, we’re here. Together. And I am holding on to this moment with everything I’ve got.
TEN
CADEN
Mid-October went in a quiet blur.I traveled home during fall break since there were no games on the schedule and barely any team obligations. I spent most of those few days glued to Theo—metaphorically and, when we could swing it, literally. Thanksgiving wasn’t much different. Sure, I did the family dinners and made an appearance for all the important photo ops, but any time I wasn’t stuffing my face or being grilled by my aunts about how college life’s treating me, I was right next to Theo.
Long-distance sucks, but somehow, we’re making it work. Between long phone calls, mixed CDs we mail back and forth, AIM chats that stretch past midnight, and the occasional questionable photo sent via email (blurry and low-res, but still effective), we’re holding it together. It’s not perfect. But neither of us expected perfect—we just wanted honest. And we’ve got that, in spades.
And now he’shere.
Theo drove up yesterday, fresh out of school for Christmas break, looking way too good to be legal in those damn black jeans and his favorite hoodie—the one that rides up when he stretches. And because my roommate dipped for the holidays,we had the dorm room to ourselves. Let’s just say… we made the most of that privacy.
But now? Now I have to focus. Because today, for the first time, I’m starting.
Home game. Packed stadium. Bellarmine University across the court. And I’m in the starting five.
I bounce a little on the balls of my feet as we line up in the tunnel, the thud of bass-heavy hype music rumbling through the floorboards, fans chanting above us like a wall of noise. My jersey feels tighter today. Not in a bad way. In a “this is real” way. Like the cotton’s holding in something more than just adrenaline—maybe every dream I’ve had since I was eight and pretending a garbage can was a hoop in the driveway.
Coach has been slowly giving me more minutes this season, testing me in tougher matchups, pushing me past my comfort zone. And I’ve earned this spot. He didn’t say that out loud, but I could tell by the way he clapped my shoulder during practice yesterday and said, “You ready to show them what you’re made of?”
Hell yes, I am.
I take a deep breath and glance up into the stands. My eyes find him immediately. Theo’s in a UK hoodie—myhoodie—and his curls are soft and loose again. After months of trying to grow it out into an afro, he finally gave up. His hair’s too soft to hold the shape, and honestly? I’m not mad about it. I like it like this. It’s easier to run my fingers through. Not that I’d ever do that in public.
