Silence stretched between us. The gym sounds filled it. Clank of plates, someone grunting through a deadlift two racks over, the low hiss of ventilation.
“I say I’m seeing someone.” Ellis set his water down. Careful. The way he handled everything that mattered. “Someone I really like.”
“Someone you really like.”
“What would you prefer I say?”
I kept peeling the label. A long strip came off in my fingers, damp and curling.
“My friend Calliope texted today. Asked if you were my boyfriend.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That we hadn’t talked about it.”
“And now we’re talking about it.”
“Apparently.”
Ellis leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His hair was still damp, pushed back off his forehead. The gym lights caught the angles of his face, the sharp jaw, the scar above his left eyebrow.
“Do you want me to be your boyfriend?”
I tore the label strip in half. Couldn’t look at him. “Do you want to be?”
“I asked first.”
“And I deflected. It’s what I do.”
A beat stretched. Then his expression hardened, not with hurt but resolve.
“Yes.” No waver. No careful hedging. “I want to be your boyfriend. I’ve wanted that since the coffee date, probably. I just didn’t push because I figured you’d run.”
“I might’ve. A month ago.”
“And now?”
The honest answer terrified me. Because it was so simple. Six years of building an identity around being untouchable, around freedom meaning no one gets close enough to hold, and here I was. Ready to hand over the key.
Ellis sat on a gym bench in sweaty clothes, his hair stuck to his forehead, and I wanted him more than I’d wanted anything. Not just the sex, though that, too. Him. The morning coffee and the bad code photos and the way he said my name like it meant something.
“Yeah.” My voice came out rougher than I expected. “I want that.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t make me say it twice.”
“Say what twice?” He was smiling now. Enjoying this. “Be specific.”
“You’re the worst.”
“Specifically.”
I dropped the shredded label on the bench. Met his eyes. The hazel had gone mostly green under the fluorescent lights, and he was looking at me with a patience that should’ve pissed me off but didn’t.
“Boyfriend.” The word sat in my mouth for a second before I let it out. “You’re my boyfriend. I’m yours. If that’s something you want to be.”
“I just said it was.”
