Page 112 of Contested

“Wow. And none for me?”

Marcos chuckled and nodded, not making an attempt to get up. He held Sebastian tighter, his hand continuing to trail along Sebastian’s spine.

Sebastian should have moved. Should have rolled away first, found clothes, made the whole thing easier to leave.

Instead, he pressed his face lightly into Marcos’ chest and stayed still. Marcos’ heartbeat was steady under his ear.

There was something unfair about how easy he made it seem in this moment. Heavy beneath Sebastian, hand warm on his back, breathing even despite the light in his face and the day waiting on the other side of the room.

Sebastian had spent years imagining exposure as a single terrible moment.

A photo. A headline. A teammate’s face changing. A family member’s voice going wrong. Harsh words from a crowd.

He had not spent much time imagining the opposite.

A knock broke both of them out of the trance they were in.

Sebastian propped himself up, head turned to the side, listening.

“You expecting someone?” Marcos asked, still not moving, looking unbothered.

Sebastian’s heart had picked up pace as he glanced back at Marcos.

It was a stupid thing to worry about. Whoever it was wouldn’t know Marcos was with him. The apartment was private. The door was shut. Marcos was in his bedroom, and no one had any reason to come this far unless Sebastian let them.

Still, the thought came sharp at the front of his mind.

“Oh, my God. Are you expecting another man after I’m gone?” Marcos joked, and Sebastian hit his shoulder.

“No. Shut up.” Sebastian’s brow furrowed as another knock came.

“I wouldn’t be jealous.”

“Oh, good. I’ll keep that in mind,” Sebastian said, rolling over Marcos and getting out of bed. “Just stay in here.”

Marcos’ eyes ran over Sebastian’s body as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and smirked. “Like a good boy?”

Sebastian glared at him. “Stay here. And shut up.”

Marcos raised his eyebrow and lifted his palms in surrender.

Sebastian turned on his heel and marched out of the bedroom, threading through the apartment toward the front door. His pulse had not settled by the time he reached it. If anything, it had worsened. He could feel it in his throat, in his fingertips, in the too-tight set of his shoulders.

He glanced through the peephole. “What the fuck?”

Sebastian swung the door open, and before he could even say anything, Loren pushed past him.

“‘I’ll try,’” she said in a poor impression of him. “Trying includes responding to my messages.”

“Shoes,” Sebastian said shortly, closing the door. “And I was going to. I was busy.”

Loren scoffed, pushed her shoes off, and tossed them against the wall. “Then say that.”

“I don’t need to—”

“What if I needed you?” Loren almost yelled, though swallowed the sound. “Fuck, Seb.”

Sebastian’s eyes darted down the hall toward his bedroom, heart pounding harder. “You would’ve called,” he said quietly.