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Sadie
I surfaced slowly, like my body was negotiating its way back.
There was the dull edge of a hangover, sure — the dry mouth, the faint pressure behind my eyes — but underneath it sat something else. Warmer. Sharper.
Present.
I lay there for a moment, eyes still closed, letting it settle.
The feeling of him behind me. The way everything had narrowed to that one line of contact. The steady, deliberate way he’d held me, like he knew exactly where the edge was and had decided, very consciously, not to push me over it.
That was the part that stuck.
My phone buzzed against the bedside table, dragging me fully awake.
Dev:
Alive?
A smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it.
Sadie:
Debatable
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Dev:
Hangover from hell or just standard Margot’s damage?
Sadie:
Somewhere between “I deserve this” and “I may never drink again”
A pause. Then:
Dev:
You were… pretty gone
I stared at that for a second, my chest doing something small and annoying.
Sadie:
Wow. Rude.
I thought I was charming
Dev:
You were that too
Another pause.
Then:
Dev:
Didn’t want to take the piss
That landed.
Harder than it should have.
I swallowed, thumb hovering over the screen.
Sadie:
Meaning?
The typing bubble came and went. Came back.
Dev:
Meaning I’d rather you remember it properly
My stomach flipped.
I sat up a little, pressing my palm to my forehead like that might steady things.
Sadie:
…bold of you to assume I don’t remember it
A beat.
Then:
Dev:
Yeah?
I exhaled slowly.
Sadie:
Yeah.
The reply came quicker this time.
Dev:
Good
And then, after a second—
Dev:
I want to see you again
Properly
No smirk. No buffer. No way to shrug it off as part of the night.
I looked at the message for a long moment, then set the phone down beside me.
Because the answer had already landed, somewhere deeper than words.
Yeah.
I want that.
Not the version carried by music and tequila and everyone watching.
Something steadier.
Something chosen.
The kitchen was already awake by the time I made it out there.
Sam was at the bench, hair piled on top of her head, moving with the quiet efficiency of someone who’d claimed the morning as her own. Gray was leaning against the counter with a mug, and Jasper had that look on his face like he’d been waiting.
I reached for a cup, poured coffee, took a sip.
Let them have their moment.
Sam glanced over first, eyes soft but far too knowing. “You alright?”
“Mm,” I said. “Bit dusty.”
Gray snorted. “Understatement of the year.”
Jasper didn’t even try to ease in. “So.”
I leaned back against the bench, cradling the mug between my hands. “So.”
A beat passed. Not awkward. Just… expectant.
Sam set a plate down and turned to face me properly. “He didn’t kiss you.”
Not a question.
A statement.
I met her gaze, held it.
“No.”
Something flickered across her face — not surprise. Recognition.
Gray let out a low breath. “Yeah. That’s… telling.”
Jasper tipped his head, watching me more closely now. “That’s not his usual move.”
“No,” I said quietly. “It’s not.”
The room shifted, just slightly.
Because they all knew exactly what that meant.
Sam crossed her arms loosely, leaning back against the counter. “So what are you going to do with that?”
There it was. They didnt lead with their usual teasing. Just the question that actually mattered.
I stared down into my coffee for a second, watching the surface settle.
“I’m not brushing it off,” I said finally. “Or pretending it was just… the night.”
Gray nodded once, like that tracked.
Jasper’s mouth twitched. “Good.”
Sam held my gaze a second longer, then smiled — small, satisfied. “Also good.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding.
“He messaged this morning,” I added.
That got a reaction.
“Oh, I bet he did,” Gray muttered.
Sam just lifted a brow. “And?”
I shrugged, but there was no real attempt to downplay it. “He wants to see me again. Properly.”
Silence again — but a different kind.
Jasper huffed out a quiet laugh. “Man’s finally caught up with himself.”
Gray raised his mug. “About time.”
Sam just nodded, like something had clicked into place. “And you?”
I didn’t hesitate this time.
“I want to.”
Simple. Clean. True. The kind of answer you don’t need to dress up.
Sam’s smile widened, soft and a little smug. “Great.”
I narrowed my eyes slightly. “Why do I feel like you’ve already interfered.”
Gray looked away immediately, which was never a good sign. Jasper took a very deliberate sip of his coffee and absolutely did not make eye contact with anyone.
Sam didn’t even try to hide it. “We might have invited him to the screening tonight.”
I blinked.
“You what?”
“It felt… aligned,” she said, completely unapologetic.
Gray winced, though he was clearly not that sorry. “Timing-wise, it made sense.”
Jasper lifted a hand. “In our defence, we assumed you’d come to your senses eventually.”
I stared at all three of them, somewhere between outrage and something that was dangerously close to excitement.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Sam shrugged, reaching for her mug. “You’re welcome.”
I looked down at my phone again, at his message still sitting there.
Let me see you again. Properly.
My pulse kicked, steady and certain now.
Yeah.
Looks like that was happening sooner than planned.
We’d pulled together every soft surface in the house – couch cushions, beanbags, random throws – and arranged them in a semi-circle around our tv like it was the holy grail of indie cinema. Sam was already curled up cross-legged with a bowl of soup. Gray had a blanket slung over one shoulder like a sash of honour. And Dev?
Dev squashed in beside me on the couch, legs long and knees awkward until he gave up and pressed in close. Really close. His thigh against mine, his shoulder brushing mine, like this was the only possible way to make room.
He slung one arm over the back of the couch – casual, like gravity did it – but his fingers occasionally drifted low enough to graze the top of my shoulder.
Just a touch.
Just enough.
I was hyper-aware of him in that way you only get when the lights are low and everyone’s watching something else.
Jasper clicked play and the film started. It was called Gutterglow, because of course it was.
Fifteen minutes of handheld footage, spliced audio, and those gut-punch monologues Jasper did in one take because otherwise he’d psych himself out. It was about the death of a younger sibling – a sister who never made it to seventeen – and the way grief clung to the corners of your life like mould you couldn’t bleach out.
It was messy. Raw. Too raw in places. Honestly? Could relate.
A bit too hard.
There was a scene where Jasper sat in a bathtub full of glow sticks, whispering something in te reo Māori that I didn’t understand. It should have been ridiculous, and if anyone other than Jasper had made it, we would have laughed ourselves stupid. But there was something earnest and heartbreaking about it. Dev’s breath hitched beside me, nothing dramatic, enough that I felt it — the sudden pause, the way his body locked like something had reached straight through him.
It pulled me out of the film for a second, my attention snagging on that stillness. Whatever Jasper had cracked open on screen, Dev was standing right in the middle of it.
When the screen finally cut to black, the room didn’t bounce back. No scrambling for bowls. No jokes rushing in to save us. Just the hum of the fridge, the city outside, and the faint glow of the paused TV lighting everyone’s faces like we’d been caught mid-thought.
Dev cleared his throat once. Quiet. Like the lump in it might fight back.
I stared straight ahead, blinking too hard.
Then Jasper let out a shaky laugh into the stunned quiet. “Well. Guess that’s my shot at Marvel gone.”
Gray swiped at his eyes. “Mate, Marvel couldn’t handle that level of honesty.”
“Yeah,” Sam added, softer. “It was brutal. But beautiful. Like you actually carved something out of yourself and left it here for us.”
“Glow-stick bathtub’s a choice,” Gray added, though his voice was rough, not mocking.
“Best choice I’ve ever made,” Jasper, now defiant, shot back, half-grin returning.
Dev finally spoke, low. “It was…fucking good, man.” He didn’t dress it up, just let it sit there. And Jasper’s smile flickered, real pride pushing through the nerves.
I touched Dev’s wrist then, gentle. He got up without a word and followed me.
Out on the back deck, the city buzzed low and soft in the distance.
The air on the deck was warm and damp, smelling faintly of rain on concrete and someone’s lingering weed smoke.
Dev stood so close beside me I could feel the heat of him through my cardigan. His shoulder brushed mine once… then again, deliberate this time.
I glanced at him. He looked wrecked. Beautifully so.
“Thanks for coming,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be.
“Thanks for asking.” His gaze stayed on me, steady, like he was trying to read something under my skin.
“He’s really good, isn’t he?” I murmured. “It always surprises me. I mean, he’s Jasper: the campest, most ridiculous nerd you’ve ever met, and then he shows you his work and it’s like…fuck…”
He nodded.
And then the air between us… shifted.
Thick. Electric. Like we were both holding our breath for the same thing.
“I really want to kiss you right now,” I blurted, before I could talk myself out of it.
He stilled – the tiniest flicker, like a record skip. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But I’m not sure if that means I want… more. Or just that.”
His eyes flicked down to my mouth and back up. “I’m good with either.”
I huffed out a laugh that came out shakier than I liked. “You always this agreeable?”
“Only when it’s worth it.”
Then his hand slid to my jaw, warm and sure, tilting my face up – and I forgot how to be a functioning human.
The first brush of his mouth was slow. Testing.
I leaned in — just a fraction — and that was all it took. His hand tightened at my hip, pulling me in like he’d been waiting for the signal. My palms pressed to his chest, the solid thud of his heart grounding me even as everything else tipped sideways. He tasted faintly of whisky and something darker, addictive.
His lips found my jaw, throat. I tilted, chasing his mouth, but he was already mapping lower – neck, my shoulder, the exact place that made me gasp. The faint scrape of his stubble sent shocks of lightning through me… and I was gone.
On instinct, I did the same to him, following heat and scent. Something about his skin there – warm, salt-sweet, the pulse under it – made me reckless.
Before I knew it, my teeth closed lightly where his neck met his shoulder. Not enough to break skin. But he went still. For one suspended beat I thought I’d gone too far. Then a filthy laugh rumbled low in his chest, his breath hot at my ear.
“Christ, Pike,” he murmured, voice dark with it.
Then he laughed — low and filthy — and surged forward, his hand slid to my back, steering me gently but firmly until the wall met my spine and he followed, close enough that there was nowhere else to put the wanting.
One thigh slid between mine, and when I shifted, his breath hitched. I could feel him through his jeans – thick, solid, and very much there – and the knowledge shot through me like a live wire.
His low groan vibrated against my mouth as my fingers curled into his hair, dragging him closer. His grip tightened, his thigh shifting just enough to make my pulse trip.
It all spiralled fast – messy, hungry, perfect – and I didn’t want to stop.
And then–
The back door slammed open so hard it rattled the frame.
Cue a Big. Gay. Gasp.
“OH MY GOD.”
Jasper.
Wide-eyed. Macallan-flushed. Draped in an oversized scarf like a bargain-bin Oscar Wilde.
He froze in the doorway, both hands clutching his chest like a Edwardian aunt catching two teens behind the orangery. Sam and Gray, appeared behind him, summoned by his dramatic gasp.
“Are we about to witness a union of hearts and/or genitals?” Jasper demanded, weaving slightly as he pointed at Dev. “Because if so, I feel it’s only right to ask: what are your intentions with our wonderful, virginal Sadie?”
The word virginal hit the air like a cymbal crash.
Dev went rigid. So did I.
I turned slowly, out of my clinch with Dev, giving Jasper the look. The one that had stopped interpretive kitchen dance-offs dead in their tracks.
“Right,” Jasper said, retreating with a cartoonish step back. “Reading the room. Noted. Love you. Byeeeee.”
The door shut.
Silence.
The air felt thinner, charged in a different way now.
I cleared my throat, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile. “We should probably head back in before the queers eat all of Gray’s dessert.”
Dev tilted his head, a slow gleam in his eyes. “Is that a euphemism?”
“Round here? Only on Wednesdays.”
He chuckled low, close enough that his breath brushed my cheek. As I moved past him, his hand slid to the small of my back – brief, but enough to make every nerve sing.
By the time we crossed the threshold, he’d brushed my fingers twice, nudged my elbow once, and rested his palm at my waist like it belonged there.
It didn’t.
Not for me.
Which is exactly why it felt like a miracle.
Eventually, I walked Dev to the door.
He leaned against the frame, thumb hooked in his pocket, eyes squinty in that warm way that made my stomach flip.
“Hey… that thing Jasper said.” He hesitated. “Was he taking the piss, or…?”
I met his eyes. “He’s always taking the piss.”
“Yeah, but about this… he’s not wrong?”
I blinked. “You asking?”
He shrugged, that lazy grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Just trying to get my facts straight before I ruin your reputation.”
A small smile crept in before I could stop it. “He’s not wrong.”
Dev’s grin softened, just a flicker. “Good to know.”
“Is that… ok for you?”
His gaze held mine, all teasing gone now. “Sadie, I’m not here for experience points.”
Something in my chest unclenched at that. The air felt lighter again.
He brushed a curl from my cheek, gentle this time, then nodded toward the door. “See you soon, Pike.”
Dev left with a soft smile and a brush of his fingers over mine. Just that. Nothing more.
Probably for the best, considering I’d just been publicly outed as a virgin like we were all starring in Jane Eyre: The Musical.