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My imagination was only short-lived.
A tall guy came from the kitchen with two plates in hand. He placed them on the coffee table in front of the couch. He was taller than Brandon—probably around 5'6—while Brandon barely reached 5'1. His blonde hair was tied up in a loose bun, and his well-built arms filled the sleeves of his t-shirt just right.
"Oh, hey!" he greeted as soon as his grey eyes met mine. "Come on in. Have a seat," he added, offering me a handshake.
I hesitated before shaking his hand.
"She hates physical touch," Brandon announced from behind him, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's waist. The smell of freshly cooked food filled the air—cheesy, buttery, and warm.
"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable," the guy said quickly, his tone sincere.
"Get off me," he said to Brandon, pushing him away gently. "I have to finish serving before the food gets cold."
Brandon groaned but let go, pouting as he did.
"I'm Chase, by the way," the tall guy said with a polite smile.
"I'm jolls," I managed to say before he disappeared back into the kitchen.
Brandon plopped down on the couch beside me, reducing the TV volume where some soft classical music played in the background.
"So when did you move in?" he asked, eyes bright with curiosity.
"On Thursday," I replied, scanning the room. Everything was perfectly arranged—minimal but beautiful.
A 75-inch TV was mounted on the wall, sitting above a sleek white stand with soundbars on each side. A blue-and-white rug spread beneath a matching coffee table that had a hidden storage shelf underneath. Two plush sofas—one single-seater and one three-seater—stood opposite each other, both blue with white throw pillows and soft fleece blankets draped across them. At the far end, a water dispenser quietly hummed in the corner.
"We moved in today," Brandon said proudly. "Dropped our things off yesterday, though."
Before I could respond, Chase returned with three steaming plates of macaroni and cheese. He placed them on the table, each serving looking like it could feed two people.
"Yay!" Brandon clapped, his grin wide—until his eyes landed on the food. His smile faltered instantly.
"What's the matter?" Chase asked, smirking.
"You know why," Brandon pouted. "I can't finish all that."
"Come on, babe. We agreed you have to start eating properly." Chase ruffled his hair and kissed his cheek.
"But I ate three hours ago," Brandon complained, leaning into him.
"That's not eating—that's snacking," Chase said with a laugh. "Now eat."
He handed him a fork and turned to me. "Sorry about this. I have to force him to eat every time."
I chuckled awkwardly and nodded, though it felt strange sitting next to them while they whispered and giggled.
"The other plate's yours," Chase said, pointing at the untouched one.
"Thanks," I said softly, picking up my fork. The first bite melted in my mouth—creamy, cheesy perfection.
"So," Chase started after a few moments, "how are you liking the place so far?"
"It's nice," I said, swallowing. "Quiet. Peaceful."
"Have you been to the pool?" Brandon asked suddenly, cutting him off.
"Not yet."
"You have to! I'll come get you tomorrow," he said with an excited grin.
I laughed under my breath. He reminded me of Sam—the same kind of unstoppable energy. I missed her, though I wasn't ready to admit it, not even to myself.
"So how long have you two been together?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation.
"About a year," Chase replied calmly.
"Eleven months and ten days," Brandon corrected proudly, shoving him playfully. "I can't believe you forgot."
Chase only smirked and leaned over to kiss him.
"Are you seeing someone?" Brandon asked, turning the attention back to me.
I shook my head. "No."
"But you're so pretty. I bet people are dying to be with you."
"I just don't have the time."
"What about that girl from the other day?" Brandon asked, narrowing his eyes.
I blinked. "What girl?"
"The one with black hair. She was with you on Thursday. She looked totally obsessed with you."
I couldn't help but smile. "That's Sandy. She's just a friend—my best friend."
"You two would make such a cute couple," he said dreamily.
"Brandon," Chase warned, shooting him a look.
"What? You know I'm right," Brandon teased.
"How do you even know she's not straight?" Chase asked.
Brandon scoffed. "Please. No straight girl has that kind of fashion sense."
Chase turned to me. "Are you?" he asked directly, no hesitation in his voice.
"No," I said, meeting his gaze. "I am gay."
He nodded. "Good for you."
"Juice?" he asked, standing to collect our plates.
"Sure," I said.
"Me too," Brandon called with his mouth still full.
"No juice until you finish your food," Chase warned, disappearing into the kitchen.
Brandon groaned dramatically, earning a quiet laugh from me.
A few minutes later, Chase returned with two glasses of orange juice. He handed me one, his movements calm and effortless.
"Thanks," I said, taking a sip.
The three of us talked a little longer. Chase was in his third year of engineering, Brandon would be starting music school on Monday—the same school I'd be attending. Chase, it turned out, went to the same one as Sandy.
When we finally settled to watch a movie, Brandon ended up dozing off halfway through, his head resting on Chase's shoulder. Chase adjusted the blanket over him with such quiet care that it softened something in me I didn't know had hardened.
By the time I got back to my apartment, it was past 3 a.m. The exhaustion hit all at once. I kicked off my shoes, crawled into bed, and let the quiet wrap around me.
For a moment, I thought about Brandon's laughter, Chase's calm voice, the easy warmth that filled their home. It felt... safe.
Despite being unsure about joining them for dinner, I'd actually enjoyed their company. Brandon was dramatic and sweet, and he reminded me of two of my favorite people.
Of course, one of them didn't know—and I planned to keep it that way.
And then my phone lit up on the nightstand.
A message.
From an unknown number.
For some reason, I didn't panic.
I reached for it, unlocked the screen.