Close Enough to Break
DOWN THE HALL – PART 7 – EXCLUSIVE
In the last installment of Down the Hall…
R. Adrian Thorne
Two days.
That’s how long it had been since Wes touched me in my bed. Since his hand was around me, his mouth at my throat, his weight pressed down until I couldn’t think straight. Since a knock on the door and a new roommate broke the spell.
Two days of silence. Two days of wondering if he regretted it. If I should.
By the second night, the waiting felt worse than the risk.
That’s how I ended up outside his door—like the world had tilted and I’d stumbled straight into his gravity.
Before I could talk myself out of it, the door opened.
Wes. Barefoot. Hair damp, still curling at the ends. A hoodie half-zipped like he’d just thrown it on. He blinked at me, not surprised, not exactly welcoming either—just looking, like he already knew why I was there.
Then he stepped back. “You coming in?”
My chest tightened. I walked past him, into his room.
It smelled like him—clean soap, cologne faded into cotton, a hint of something warm and sharp I couldn’t place. His bed was unmade, hoodie on the chair, empty bottles on the desk. It was him, everywhere.
The door clicked shut.
He leaned against it, arms crossed, gaze steady. “So,” he said, voice low. “You decided to stop avoiding me?”
My laugh was nervous. “Pretty sure you were the one avoiding me.”
“Maybe.” He pushed off the door, closing the space between us, slow and sure. “Or maybe I was waiting to see if you’d come here.”
He was closer now, just a step away. My heart thudded hard enough I was sure he could hear it.
“Why haven’t I heard from you?” I asked. My voice cracked more than I meant it to. “Two days, Wes. Nothing.”
For the first time, something flickered across his face—uncertainty. He dragged a hand through his damp hair, exhaling slow.
“Because I was embarrassed,” he said finally. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t know. Blow up your life. I walked out of your room and all I could picture was that RA’s face—and your brand-new roommate standing there like he’d just caught us doing something wrong.”
His mouth twisted. “I didn’t want you to feel like I’d embarrassed you. Or…like I’d embarrassed myself.”
I blinked at him. That was it?
“Wes,” I said, shaking my head. “I wasn’t embarrassed.”
He looked at me, skeptical.
“I mean, sure, it wasn’t exactly how I wanted our first time to end. But embarrassed? No.” I stepped closer, close enough to catch the soap still clinging to his skin. “If anything, the only thing I’m embarrassed about is how bad I want it to happen again.”
The air shifted. His shoulders eased, his eyes softened, but there was still that edge in them—hungry, holding back.
“You’re serious?” he asked.
“Dead serious.”
For a long beat, neither of us moved. Then Wes’s mouth curved—just the ghost of a smile—and he whispered, “Then get on the bed.”
My pulse stuttered. The words hit like a command, low and sure, but his eyes gave him away—uncertain, testing.
