Everything Meant Nothing | Part 7: "I Know A Place" (Patreon)

Troy thought moving across the world would give him space to breathe, to forget. But some looks are impossible to ignore. As Theo starts..

All characters depicted in this story are fictional and 18 years of age or older. Everything portrayed is safe, sane, and consensual.

The next arc in this story is called Arc 3: The Way He Looks at Me. Troy thought moving across the world would give him space to breathe, to forget. But some looks are impossible to ignore. As Theo starts lowering his walls, Troy finds himself craving more than just friendship... even if neither of them is ready to name what this is._______________

Part 7: I Know A Place | The Way He Looks at Me

When Theo said he knew a better place, I thought maybe he meant a rooftop, or a shortcut to a lake I hadn’t heard of. Some scenic overlook where he could do that brooding thing again. I didn’t expect this.

But this. This was something else entirely.

We’d slipped through an alleyway just past the frat house, then ducked down a stairwell covered in graffiti and rusted flyers. It smelled faintly like sugar and dust. And then suddenly, we were standing in the middle of an old-style underground arcade.

Flashing neon signs. The hum of machines. That sweet, plasticky scent of tokens and cheap candy. A couple slightly older than us hunched over consoles, laughing. Everything was too loud and too bright, but in a way that felt good. It felt like we were somewhere out of time. Somewhere nobody knew us.

“This is insane,” I said, still taking it all in. “How does this even exist?”

Theo smirked. He didn’t answer. Just tugged me forward by the wrist.

His fingers curled around my wrist, not my hand, and somehow that felt more intimate. Less polished. More real. Like he didn’t even think before doing it, just acted on instinct. His grip was warm, firm, but not forceful. And I felt it everywhere. In the quickening of my pulse. In the way my breath caught. In the part of me that had been aching to be wanted again. There was nothing traditionally romantic about it. No interlocked fingers or quiet, laced tenderness. But it still made my chest flutter. Like I belonged in that moment. Like maybe, even in his quiet, unreadable way… he wanted me there.

He led me to a corner booth with a panoramic view of the games, and when we sat, it didn’t feel like a date. But it also didn’t not feel like one.

Theo leaned back into the booth, arms stretched wide across the top like he owned the space. His posture was lazy, confident, like he couldn’t imagine a version of the world where he didn’t belong. He t-shirt was fitted enough to cling to his chest and arms in all the right ways. I watched the way the fabric hugged his shoulders, the subtle stretch across his biceps, the way it dipped just slightly at the collar, showing the faint edge of his collarbone. His legs were spread comfortably under the table, one foot tapping faintly to the arcade noise in the background. He looked different out here. Softer, but somehow even hotter. Less guarded. That cold quiet energy he carried around the flat was still there, but out here, it had a spark. A flicker of playfulness. His jaw was sharp enough to sketch, his lips a little parted as he watched the arcade floor. I couldn’t help it. I just kept looking at him. His face, his chest, the way his fingers drummed along the vinyl seat.

Every angle of him was carved to be stared at. I forced myself to look away before he noticed, pretending to study the flashing lights around us. He turned to me then, smirk tugging at his lips, and nodded toward the games.

“We playing or what?”

We played skee ball first. He beat me like three times in a row. Didn’t even pretend to go easy.--------------------------------

Then we played basketball. Which was obviously a mistake.

“I didn’t know this was gonna be a flex contest,” I said, out of breath as he casually landed another perfect shot.

He shrugged. “You agreed to come.”

I gave him a fake glare. “You tricked me.”

“Hardly. You’re the one who let me hold your hand.”

That shut me up for a second.

Because yeah. I had.

I was terrible at basketball, but watching Theo play was its own kind of punishment. Of course the jock was good at it. He moved like he owned the sport, every muscle working in sync, casual and confident. His shirt pulled snug across his chest each time he reached for the ball. His biceps flexed without effort as he lined up another shot, veins shifting under his skin. Even the way he flicked his wrist looked unfairly hot.

And I was just standing there, heart thudding, pretending to care about the score while secretly wondering what it would feel like to be held by those same arms.--------------------------------Eventually, we wandered toward the back of the arcade, where the dance machine sat glowing in rainbow lights. Two people were finishing up a level that looked straight out of a fever dream. Speed 9.5. Insane.

Theo looked at me. Raised a brow.

“Oh no,” I said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

He just grinned.

When the other players left, he stepped onto the platform and gestured. “Come on.”

“I’m wearing boots.”

“So?”

I stared at him.

He did a little bounce on the pad. “Don’t be scared.”

I wasn’t scared. I was just extremely aware of how hot he looked right now.

Still, I stepped up beside him. “Fine. If I die, it’s on you.”

“Fair.”

The music kicked in. Something upbeat and stupid. The arrows started flying, and I tried to keep up. We danced. Or, well, Theo danced. I flailed.

I missed every other arrow. He laughed when I cursed under my breath.I started getting the rhythm, then tripped. My ankle twisted hard. A sharp, sudden pull that made me yelp and grab for the rail.

“Shit..” I hissed.

Theo’s head snapped toward me. “You alright?”

“No. I think I..fuck...yeah. I sprained my ankle.”

He was off the pad in a second, crouched beside me. One hand bracing my knee, the other skimming down to my ankle.

“This one?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

He touched it gently. I winced. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

I tried.

Big mistake.

Theo caught me before I fell again.

“Nope. Not happening.”

He moved fast. Strong arms under my knees, one behind my back. He picked me up like it was nothing.

I gasped. “Theo...”

“You weigh like a feather. Chill.”His grip was steady, grounding. His chest pressed firm against mine, solid and unshakable. And his scent hit me all at once; not just clean sweat and skin still warm from the night, but something deeper. Like worn cotton, midnight air, the ghost of a fight he won at the gym and didn’t talk about. It wrapped around me, dragged me under, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

People were watching. I didn’t care.

I stared at him, inches away, my heart beating way too loud.

He carried me up the stairs, out the door, and to his car without a single stumble. Like I was some romcom princess and he was the lead who didn’t care about anyone watching.

He didn’t say anything when he opened the passenger door, just lowered me gently inside. His hands lingered longer than they needed to. His thumb brushed the inside of my knee. My breath caught.

For a second, he just looked at me. That unreadable gaze again. Something flickering underneath it.

“I’ll drive slow,” he said, voice low.

And then the door shut.

I exhaled.

No one had ever made me feel like that. Not even Luke.

And sitting there, ankle throbbing, heart thudding, skin burning where he touched me, all I could think was...

If he touches me like that again, I don’t think I’ll be able to pretend it’s nothing.

Everything Meant Nothing | Part 8: Closer Than I Meant to Be