[Alex's POV]
The living room clears out eventually.
Camila leaves first with an over-dramatic yawn and a smug smirk, Lucas trailing behind her with a look that says we're not done here. Nick and I sit in silence for a beat after the door shuts, the kind that doesn't feel awkward anymore. Just heavy with things we haven't said.
Then Nick turns to me, that small smile I've grown addicted to already tugging at his lips.
"So," he says, nudging my knee with his. "What's your zodiac sign again?"
I laugh. "Are we doing this?"
"Yes, obviously. I need to know how emotionally compatible we are."
"Pisces," I say.
"Oh my god, that explains everything."
"That good or bad?"
"You're moody, dramatic, hot-and-cold, but also soft and thoughtful when you want to be."
I blink. "You just described every water sign."
"Exactly," he says, like that proves a point.
I nudge him back. "And you?"
"Gemini."
"Of course you are."
"Hey!"
"No, no, it checks out. Chaos in a pretty wrapper."
He laughs, and it lights up the room. I want to bottle that sound and keep it in my back pocket.
We fall into easy conversation from there, trading answers like we're on a first date. Which maybe, in some strange way, we are.
"Biggest red flag in a relationship?" he asks.
"Emotional dishonesty," I say without thinking. "Like pretending you're okay when you're not. Or keeping people at arm's length and calling it strength."
He goes quiet for a second. Then: "Yeah. That one hits."
"You?"
"Mmm... people who don't listen. Like, not just hearing you but listening. Really taking you in."
"Okay, philosopher," I tease.
"Shut up," he says, smiling.
I tilt my head. "Okay, your turn. What's something that secretly turns you on?"
His ears go pink. "You're not allowed to judge me."
"Never."
He clears his throat. "Hands. Like, the way someone uses them. If they're good with them. Confident, y'know?" He won't look directly at me.
I grin. "I'll try not to be smug about that."
"Don't flatter yourself, carpenter boy."
"Too late."
He tosses a pillow at me.
I catch it easily. "Fine. You go again."
"Alright," he says, then leans back and looks up at the ceiling like he's weighing something. "What's something about me that surprised you?"
I look at him. Really look.
"You're funnier than I expected. And kind. Like... quietly kind. Not in-your-face about it, but it's there."
His smile softens.
"You, though," he says, nudging me again. "You're not as put-together as you pretend to be."
"Excuse me?"
"You act like you're all composed and mature, but you're actually kinda soft. It's cute."
I mock-gasp. "Take it back."
"Never."
We laugh again, but it slips into something quieter. Something more... loaded.
Nick shifts. "Have you... y'know. Had any, uh, dirty thoughts? About me?"
He says it fast and then stares down at his hands like he regrets it.
I glance at him. "Only every time you wear that oversized hoodie and stretch like you're in a shampoo commercial."
His jaw drops. "You're the worst."
"You asked."
"Still."
"You?"
He hides behind the pillow he just threw at me. "I plead the fifth."
[Back to Nick's POV]
There's a beat of silence after Alex says, "I plead the fifth."
He says it with a smirk, smug and proud like he's just dodged a bullet.
He forgets who he's dealing with.
"Oh," I say slowly, setting my empty cup down and leaning toward him, all fake sweetness. "That's cute. You think pleading the fifth works in this house?"
His smirk falters. "Nick. Don't."
I lunge before he can escape.
He squeals—literally squeals—and flops sideways onto the couch, laughing already. I straddle him, pinning his arms above his head with one hand, the other already clawing at his sides.
"Nick—Nick—stop! I'm serious!"
"You're not even close to serious!" I grin, jabbing fingers into the soft spot beneath his ribs. "You're a liar and a coward and you're going to confess your crimes."
His laughter explodes, uncontrollable, loud enough that I worry someone might check in on us. But I'm committed. This is war.
"I—okay! Okay—" he wheezes between laughs. "This is abusive! This is not how the fifth amendment works!"
"You're in my house," I hiss like a villain. "We do not plead here."
"You are a menace—"
"Talk."
He wiggles like he's trying to summon the strength of a thousand suns to throw me off, but he's giggling too hard to be effective. His cheeks are flushed pink, hair a mess, shirt riding up a little—
God.
I slow down.
He blinks up at me, breathless. "You… you good?"
I realize my hand is still hovering at his waist. And I'm still straddling him.
"Um," I say eloquently.
"I see your brain just crashed."
"You're very warm."
He raises a brow. "Is that your excuse for straddling me like a cartoon villain?"
I clear my throat, climbing off and collapsing beside him on the couch, face hot. "It worked, didn't it?"
He's still catching his breath. "You're insane."
"You love it."
He turns his head toward me. "Yeah. Unfortunately."
Silence, comfortable and electric at the same time. The kind that hums just beneath your skin. My chest feels a little tight—but not in a bad way.
"…So," I say, playing with the edge of my shirt. "What were you gonna say before you tried to plead the fifth?"
He sighs like he regrets all his life choices that led to this moment.
"I was gonna say," he starts, "sometimes… when I look at you, especially when you're like this—laughing, or flustered, or just being… Nick—I have thoughts."
I tilt my head. "Thoughts?"
"Dirty ones," he admits, looking at the ceiling.
"Oh, in time when I'm like this?"
"I said sometimes, don't get cocky."
"What if I do this?" I said, slipping my hands into his sweatpants band
"N-nick what are you doing..." He said as his face reddened
"Oh, I'll stop then"
He groans. "Why did I even say anything—"
"You like me so much," I say, grinning like an idiot. "You're literally down bad."
"I'm going to sleep on the floor."
"No, you're not."
I roll over, tugging him with me until we're tangled again, like last night. Like this is normal now. Like I can make it normal.
He breathes out slowly, his forehead brushing mine.
"You're not exactly innocent either, you know," he murmurs. "I see the way you look at me."
"Yeah," I whisper. "I'm not pretending I don't want you."
His hand finds mine under the covers.
And maybe we don't have everything figured out yet—but tonight, that feels okay.