Page 68 of Contested

The sudden quiet made the room feel wider. Water dripped from the showerhead in uneven beats, hitting the tile near his feet while Sebastian bent to grab his underwear and towel. The towel was useless by then, but he still wrapped it around his waist, his underwear hanging by his side as he made his way out of the showers.

When he stepped out, Marcos was still there.

He was dressed now, sitting on the bench in front of his locker with his bag between his feet. His hair was damp, and his shirt clung slightly at the shoulders where he hadn’t dried properly. He had changed too quickly; Sebastian could tell from the uneven twist of one sock and the way the collar of his shirt sat wrong. Marcos’ hands were clasped loosely in front of him, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the ground between his feet.

There was no one else there.

Sebastian stopped at the edge of the locker bay, listening for another sound before crossing to his own locker. He dried himself properly with a clean towel from the locker, pulled on his clothes, shoved his wet underwear into a side pocket, and sat on the bench opposite Marcos.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The room was too bright after the shower, too open around the benches, lockers, and half-packed bags. The air against Sebastian’s skin was cooler now, and his pulse still hadn’t settled.

“Someone came to grab the towels,” Marcos said, his voice low, eyes glued to the ground between his feet.

Sebastian nodded, staring at Marcos but not saying anything. He wanted to ask what Marcos was thinking, whether he was about to go quiet again, or if this would become another thing they didn’t talk about for weeks. The questions pressed hard against the back of his teeth, but Marcos was still sitting there with his bag between his feet, dressed and tense and clearly not fine, and he hadn’t used the interruption as an excuse to disappear.

Sebastian held onto that.

After a minute, he cleared his throat and pushed to his feet, grabbing his bag as he did.

Marcos glanced up. “Hey.”

Sebastian paused, hand gripping his bag’s strap. “Yeah?”

Marcos’ eyes stayed on him this time. Not easily, and not without something guarded pulling behind them, but they stayed.

“What if I came to your apartment later this week?”

The question took Sebastian by surprise.

For a second, he just stared at him. Marcos’ face still held hesitation—the guarded mouth, the tension in his jaw, the faint crease between his brows that said part of him was already working out if he actually meant what he asked. But it was different than it had been last time. It was more settled.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s cool,” Sebastian said, nodding too many times.

Marcos didn’t say anything else. He just pulled his mouth tight and let his eyes fall back to the ground.

Sebastian watched him for a second, then swung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the room.

|| Chapter Sixteen ||

Sebastian – “We Don’t Really Know Each Other”

EARLY APRIL

The shower with Marcos sat behind Sebastian’s eyelids every time he closed them.

Marcos’ mouth on his, Marcos’ hands sliding over his body with that careful, unfinished pressure, water running between them, steam on the tiles, and Marcos going still whenever he grew unsure.

Sebastian tried not to think about it, which worked about as well as expected.

By Monday morning, his head was full of it again before he had even made it through the club doors. He had told himself the weekend would give him some distance. Enough space for his body to stop remembering the exact weight of Marcos’ hand across his stomach.

It didn’t help that during the review on Monday, Marcos sat next to him.

The room wasn’t full. There were plenty of seats left when Marcos walked in. Parker had taken a chair near the front with Lachie and Corey. Phetmany was two rows ahead, headphones still around his neck, watching the screen in anticipation. Sebastian had chosen a seat against the wall because he wanted somewhere solid at his back and a straight line to the door, which had felt sensible until Marcos appeared in the doorway and looked directly at him.

For a second, Sebastian thought Marcos might look away, but Marcos crossed the room with his bag over one shoulder, his expression unreadable. His eyes stayed on Sebastian until he reached the seat beside him.