I waited to cry until I got back to my apartment, and I didn't try to hide it from my friends.

Donovan gave me permission to talk to Cam and Giselle about his brother. And I did. Because there was something about Danny's illness that made me look outside myself. Donovan, I decided, was the opposite. He went within himself. Neither way was correct and neither was wrong.

My best friends held me while I cried, confused and scared until I was capable of blubbering out an explanation. The fact that they held me before even knowing what was wrong made me cry even harder. It was an unconditional thing.

Exhaustion came next. Guilt came after that. If I felt this way after finding out about a kid I hadn't seen in years, how was Donovan even capable of functioning? How was the whole Starr family functioning?

He FaceTimed me that night when I was laying in bed, and when I answered I half expected him to be at the gym. He wasn't. Instead, there was darkness surrounding him and his head rested on a pillow.

"Hey," he said simply, as though we FaceTimed each other every night.

"Hi," I said, because that was the only thing to say.

"You good?"

My heart squeezed. There was concern laced in his voice, concern for me.

"I should be asking that about you, Starr."

His smile was tired. "I have my days. Yesterday with you was good. Today was shit, but it ended with good."

It did end with good. Donovan, Danny, and I played cards with each other. The three of us joking and teasing each other. There were moments where Danny would get a little breathless and Donovan would tense, but those moments would pass.

"I—" I stopped myself before the words could tumble from my lips, shaking my head.

Donovan arched a brow. "What? What were you going to say?"

I thought for a moment, biting the inside of my cheek before finally giving in.

"I wish you were here."

There was a moment of silence on the other end, so long that I thought maybe we'd lost connection. But then he loosed a breath, and one small dimple appeared on his cheek as he gave me a pleased smile.

"I'll be there in ten."

Sure enough, he was at my front door within ten minutes wearing an old football t-shirt and a pair of team sweatpants. He had his backpack in his hands and a change of clothes. He followed me to my bedroom, taking care not to wake my roommates.

Wordlessly, I climbed into my bed and pushed back the comforter for him. He stood in the corner of my room, kicking off his shoes and pulling his shirt over his head. Abdominal muscles stretched as he lifted it over his curls, shaking them in the process. It was... graceful. It... made my mouth go numb.

He arched a brow when he saw me sitting up and watching him. For the life of me, I couldn't look away from him. Not the dark curls. Not the hardened muscle on his stomach or the cords that wrapped around his forearms. Not the goddamned blue eyes.

As soon as he got into the bed beside me, he laid on his back and turned his head to me. Those blue eyes shone even through the darkness of my room. I was curled up on my side, drawn to the warmth he radiated under the covers. We were only inches apart, both of our heads resting on pillows as we watched each other.

Was it a mistake to invite him over here? What were we supposed to do? What was the protocol?

"You were crying," he said. Not as a question, I noticed.

"How do you know that?"

"Tortoise shell," his response was automatic, but when I gave him a confused look he continued, "your eyes change shades when you cry."

"Plus," he added after a moment looking up at the ceiling, "you have a ton of tissues on your nightstand."

I groaned, glancing over at it. Gross. How embarrassing. He chuckled at my grimace and I smacked his stomach. His hand caught my fingers, holding them against his chest, warm and broad beneath my fingertips. My breathing quickened at the contact, at the heat that suddenly shot to my toes.

The moment was heavy with something and the air was charged with it too. His thumb stroked the inside of my palm as he turned his head once again to look at me.

There was a moment of indecision that flickered in his gaze. But it was gone in an instant.

Sighing after a moment, he pulled me into his arms so I was cuddled into his side. Every spot where my skin touched his burned with something that I wasn't sure had a name. It was much different than the heat a few seconds ago. This was a steady burn and not the crackles on my skin.

My head rested on his chest with only the sound of his breaths and the steady beat of his heartbeat to lull me to sleep. It was so natural that I wondered how I could've been worried in the first place.

This was Donovan. I should have known better.

"Thanks for coming," I murmured, already feeling sleep coming.

"I'll sleep better with you anyways," his voice was casual, so I thought that maybe I imagined the thick note to it.

"I like having you here."

His thumb rubbed absentminded shapes on my shoulder blades. Fingertips brushing slow patterns across my skin and eliciting a contented sigh. My eyes drifted close.

"I'm here, Josie," his voice was gravelly, "I won't leave until you ask me to."

As sleep came for me while I was wrapped in his arms, I couldn't help but wonder why that promise felt familiar.

***

Donovan Starr spent every night that week with me in my apartment. Some nights he came over later because of practices, or workouts, or study sessions. But every night I fell asleep in his arms, or watching him breathe, or listening to his heartbeat.

Every night I could see that there was a line drawn in the ground. We were teetering on the edge of it, and it wouldn't take much to fall over onto the other side. Every night, I contemplated stepping over it.

Neither of us talked about it like it was strange, and my roommates mostly stayed silent about it. So, I didn't really have to face what it meant when my heart would race every time he texted me that he was outside. The longer I could go without facing that, the easier. Less terrifying.

"Is that..." Giselle began as we walked to theater class together, "are you wearing his t-shirt?"

"No!" I objected looking down at the cotton shirt, "of course n— oh shit."

I totally was. The number fourteen was plain on my chest and the cotton even smelled a little bit like him. Something woodsy. Damn it. How does that keep happening?

My eyes were wide as I looked at her.

"We woke up late and I was getting dressed in the dark! I have a ton of huge t-shirts, I thought it was one of mine."

Gisele laughed and rolled her eyes in a way that told me she did not believe me. I didn't blame her really.

"Uh-huh."

I groaned, looking down again at the number 14. "He's gonna give me so much shit."

Gisele snorted.

"I'm sure that's exaaactly what he's gonna do." She rolled her eyes and we walked into the auditorium together.

She went and sat with her project partner. She'd been complaining about him for the last few weeks and how he kept suggesting that they add a kissing scene into their performance. Gisele agreed but only on the condition that she was allowed to slap him right after. She thought he would reject the idea, but he said yes and with too much enthusiasm. Now she said she was trying to figure out if her partner was allergic to anything so she could eat it right before their scene. She was joking... I think.

I didn't see Donovan's dark curls so I took a seat somewhere near where we normally sat. When I heard the seat next to me get filled, I turned to greet Donovan but found someone else sitting in his seat instead.

"Hayden?"

"Hi Josie," he said, smiling.

Our last interaction hadn't gone well at the celebration party. I slightly remembered telling him off, though I was a little shaky on the why of it all.

His blonde hair was longer than it usually was. There was product in it too, making his normal waves look curly.

"How have you been?" he was smiling, lounging back in the chair. Donovan's chair. Who would be here any minute.

"Um. Good. What are you doing here? You're not in this class."

Hayden shrugged. "I was on my way to the library and I saw you come in and was hoping I could catch you for a couple minutes."

"For what exactly?"

"I want to try— wait, is that one of our pre-game shirts?"

I glanced down. "Oh, um..."

"Fourteen," Hayden murmured, then his eyes flashed with recognition and he stood up suddenly. "Really? You said there was nothing between you two. Clearly, that was bullshit."

I glanced around the auditorium. My classmates were still trickling in but the ones that were here turned to look at Hayden's raised voice. I flushed, reaching my hand out for his arm but he yanked it away.

"Hayden, when I said that, there wasn't. Now—" I began but he cut me off with a loud scoff.

Honestly, I was glad he cut me off. I didn't have to explain anything to him, and I wasn't sure why I was even bothering.

"Whatever, Josie. Ever since he got here, you've been a real bitch."

I stood at that.

"Not wanting to be with you, Hayden, does not make me a bitch. It makes me the same as the rest of the population." I was fuming and his face was growing redder. "Especially, when you're going to act like this the moment you don't get what you want."

"Fuck you! You're a little slut. I bet you opened your legs the minute—"

I slapped him. My palm stung but I ignored it. Fuck, it was hard to ignore. Far be it from me to know how much my hand was going to hurt after slapping someone, but I didn't think it would be this much. Hitting people was wrong, I knew that. But damn if it didn't make me feel better. Until he stepped toward me.

"You bitch—"

It was hard for him to finish his sentence when he was being dragged away from me by his collar and shoved into the aisle. Donovan stood in front of the row I was in, dropping his backpack as he looked at Hayden.

Hayden was fuming but I couldn't see Donovan's face. His body was tense, like he was ready for Hayden to charge him. Like he was ready to throw him to the ground.

"You should watch your fucking girl," Hayden spat.

"You should watch your fucking mouth."

Donovan took a step forward and Hayden inched back. Just one step. Then another. Finally, with a scathing look at me Hayden stomped out of the auditorium with a huff. Like a child.

When Donovan finally turned to me, his face was calm. He glanced down at me and grinned.

"Nice shirt, Fish." Then after a moment, "nice slap too."

____________
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