Boundaries and Breathing

I woke up to the sound of breathing.

Not mine.

Deeper. Slower. Steady.

My eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I forgot where I was. The ceiling above me wasn’t my childhood bedroom. The walls were unfamiliar. The faint scent of cologne and clean laundry filled the air. My back was cold. My legs tangled in too-thin sheets.

And behind me, the source of the breathing shifted.

Oh god.

Jace was in my bed.

Or I was in his.

Either way, we were sharing space. One mattress. One pillow. One long, sleepless night after his teasing had left me staring at the wall, wired and wrecked, trying not to imagine what it would feel like if he reached over and—

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

I froze.

I could feel the heat of his chest just behind me. We weren’t touching, not really, but it was close. So close I could feel the rhythm of his breathing press into my spine. So close I could smell the faint scent of his skin—citrusy, clean, and maddening.

“You sleep quiet,” he added, as if we’d done this a hundred times before. “Barely moved all night.”

“I—I didn’t know you—”

“I came in around three,” he said. “Didn’t wanna wake you. You looked peaceful. Figured you wouldn’t mind if I climbed in.”

Climbed in? I turned slightly, my voice low and panicked. “This is my bed.”

“It was,” he said with a lazy grin. “Now it’s our bed.”

My jaw dropped. “What happened to rules?”

“Rule four,” he said, stretching beside me, muscles flexing. “Beds are meant to be shared. You didn’t call dibs last night. That’s on you.”

“That’s not how this works!”

He rolled onto his back, arms behind his head, bare chest on full display in the morning light streaming through the blinds. My mouth went dry.

“Relax,” he said, smirking without even looking at me. “I kept to my side. Barely touched you.”

Barely was doing a lot of heavy lifting.

I scrambled out of bed, dragging the sheet with me like it was armor.

He laughed softly. “You’re cute in the morning, you know that?”

“I’m not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“This!” I motioned to the bed. To him. To my blatant arousal tucked under the edge of the sheet. “This roommate-turned—whatever—thing. You don’t get to touch me. You don’t get to tease me like this.”

His smile didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened.

“You’re really worked up, shy boy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then stop acting like it.”

I turned, heat crawling up my neck. This was insane. I barely knew him. And yet he was under my skin like a splinter I couldn’t pull out. Dangerous. Too charming for his own good. And he knew it.

I headed for the closet to grab clothes and escape to the bathroom.

He called after me. “Rule five!”

I paused, hand on the doorknob. “What now?”

“Always come back.”

I looked over my shoulder, and the way he was watching me—eyes low, mouth curved, like I was the first person to ever confuse him—sent a jolt straight through my chest.

“I didn’t say I was leaving,” I said quietly.

He didn’t reply. Just smirked and tucked one arm behind his head, watching me walk out like he’d already won something.

---

The cold water didn’t help this time.

No matter how long I stood under the spray, his voice was in my head. His smirk burned behind my eyelids. His scent still clung to my skin like a promise I didn’t know how to ignore.

When I returned, towel around my shoulders, Jace was gone. A note sat on his pillow, scrawled in messy handwriting.

> “Gym. Back later. Don’t hog all the bed. —J”

I stared at it, heart thudding.

Why did he act like we were already something?

I pulled on jeans and a plain T-shirt, grabbed my sketchpad, and escaped to the campus courtyard. I needed to clear my head. I needed to draw. Drawing always helped. Lines didn’t lie. Paper didn’t flirt.

But even as I tried to sketch the twisting vines along the stone archways, my fingers itched to draw something else—someone else.

His jawline. His eyes. The shape of his lips when he smirked.

I slammed the pad shut.

---

That night, he came back from the gym shirtless, towel slung around his neck, chest glistening slightly with sweat.

“You should’ve come with me,” he said casually. “I could use a spotter.”

I tried not to stare at the way his shorts hung low on his hips.

“No thanks.”

He pulled open the mini-fridge and grabbed a water bottle, cracking it open with one hand. “You always this uptight?”

“I just like personal space.”

“Then you’re at the wrong school,” he teased. “Especially with me.”

He moved to sit on his bed—our bed now, apparently—and tossed his towel over the chair.

Then he turned to me, more serious.

“Okay, real talk.”

I looked up from my sketchpad warily. “What?”

He leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “You’re clearly not like the other guys I’ve roomed with. You don’t party. You don’t talk much. You blush when I breathe near you.”

I flushed. “That’s not—”

He raised a brow. “Am I wrong?”

I said nothing.

He continued, voice softer. “I’m not trying to mess with you. I’m just... being myself. You can tell me to stop if I’m pushing too hard.”

I stared at him. This was... new. The teasing was gone. He looked genuine.

“I’m not used to people like you,” I said finally.

“Like me?”

“Confident. Flirty. Comfortable in your own skin.”

He smiled faintly. “Took me a long time to get there. You think I was always this smooth?”

“Yeah, actually.”

He laughed. “Nah. I was a mess my first year. Couldn’t even talk to a guy without freaking out. Then I met someone who made me feel seen. And I swore I’d do the same for someone else.”

I swallowed. “Is that what you’re doing?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching.”

My breath caught.

He stood and walked over slowly, kneeling in front of me like a prayer.

“I won’t touch you,” he said, voice low. “Not unless you ask me to.”

I didn’t move.

“Just say the word, Luca. One word.”

I couldn’t speak.

I didn’t say yes.

But I didn’t say no.

He smiled like he understood the difference.

Then he stood, grabbed his towel, and headed for the shower.

And I sat there, heart pounding, skin burning, wondering just how many rules I was willing to break.