Overthinking in the Dark - Jay

Lying on my bed, I stared at the ceiling, the soft glow of my phone screen illuminating the room in pulses as notifications trickled in. Each buzz made my heart jump, only for disappointment to settle back in when none of them were from Sam. My chest felt tight, like I was caught in some invisible grip that wouldn't let me breathe properly. The events of the night played on repeat in my mind, refusing to let me rest.

The kiss.

I closed my eyes, the memory flashing vividly before me for what felt like the hundredth time. It was ridiculous how much detail I could recall—the faint hum of the claw machine, the neon lights reflecting off the glass, the plush orca cradled between us. I remembered the way Sam's hand brushed against mine as he handed me the toy, the playful tug-of-war that had us laughing, teasing, and leaning closer without even realizing it.

And then, the warmth of his lips on mine.

But who leaned in first?

The thought nagged at me like an unsolvable puzzle. I rolled onto my side, clutching my Blahaj like he could somehow squeeze the answers out of me. The moment felt so clear and yet so muddled, adrenaline and shock blurring the edges. Would Sam have leaned in? I couldn't picture it. He was straight

Did that mean I had done it?

Had I misread everything and crossed a line that wasn't meant to be crossed?

A wave of guilt churned in my stomach, twisting tighter with each passing second. What if I'd ruined everything? What if I'd kissed my straight friend, the guy who had gone out of his way to invite me into his world, and shattered the fragile connection we'd been building? The way he had pulled back so suddenly, the panic in his voice as he mumbled his excuses and left—it was all I could think about.

I reached for my phone again, unlocking it for the millionth time. Sam's name sat at the top of my messages, the empty chat staring back at me like a challenge. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting over and over.

Hey, are you okay?

I'm sorry if I made things weird.

Did I mess things up between us?

Every draft felt wrong—too heavy, too vulnerable, too much for the fragile silence that hung between us now. I set the phone down with a sigh, burying my face in my pillow.

The room was so quiet it was maddening. Even the faint hum of the street outside couldn't drown out the racing thoughts in my head. My friends would know what to do, I thought fleetingly. Tara, Alex, Morgan—they always had my back, always seemed to know the right thing to say when I was spiralling like this.

But could I tell them?

Should I?

The question hit me like a cold splash of water, snapping me out of my thoughts. This wasn't just about me. I'd fucked up and I was too embarrassed to tell them.

I tried to picture it: sitting around with Tara and Alex, spilling everything about the kiss, about Sam's reaction, about how confused and lost I felt. They would listen, of course. They'd care. But how would they look at Sam after that? Would they start dissecting every little thing he said or did, wondering what he felt, what he wanted?

No, I couldn't do that to him.

But the weight of it was suffocating. It felt like I was carrying a secret too big to keep, one that was slowly crushing me with its enormity.

I grabbed my phone again, scrolling through my messages for some kind of distraction. My fingers hovered over Tara's name, tempted to send her a vague SOS, but I stopped myself. Instead, I opened Instagram and found myself on Sam's profile.

His most recent post was from last week—him and the team after their swim meet, all of them grinning and dripping wet as they held up their medals. He looked so happy in that moment, so carefree, and it only made the contrast of tonight sting more.

What was he thinking right now? Was he lying in his bed, staring at his ceiling like I was, replaying the kiss and wondering where we went wrong? Or had he already shoved it to the back of his mind, deciding it wasn't worth dwelling on?

The thought of him brushing it off hurt more than I wanted to admit.

I put my phone down again, turning onto my back and staring at the ceiling once more. The glow-in-the-dark stars I'd stuck up there years ago were still faintly visible, and I traced their outlines with my eyes, trying to ground myself.

I didn't know what to do.

The kiss had been everything I wanted. Everything I'd dreamed about.

And now, it felt like it might break us.

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The school hallway buzzed with the usual morning energy: lockers slamming, students laughing, conversations blending into an overwhelming hum. Normally, I could tune it out—let the chaos wash over me and focus on getting through the day. Not today. Today, every sound felt louder, every laugh sharper, like they were all aimed at the knot of nerves twisting in my stomach.

I adjusted the strap of my bag, the weight of my math textbook pressing heavily against me—not because of its actual heft, but because of what it represented. Math class. Where I'd see Sam. My breath hitched just thinking about it, my chest tightening with questions I didn't have answers to.

What would I even say? Should I apologize? Pretend nothing happened? What if he didn't want to talk at all?

Lost in thought, I turned the corner near my locker and stopped dead. I didn't notice him until I was almost right on top of him.

Sam.

He stood near his locker, his shoulders tense despite his casual stance. Surrounding him were his usual group of friends. Of course, Kyle was there—leaning lazily against the lockers with that smug smirk he always wore, like he owned the hallway. A few other football players flanked him, laughing at something obnoxious I couldn't make out.

Sam wasn't laughing, though.

The moment he saw me, his entire posture shifted. His eyes widened briefly before he forced a casual expression, stepping away from the group.

"Hey, Jay," he said quickly, his voice softer than usual, almost hesitant.

I froze. His voice, his eyes—everything about him was different, like he was carrying a secret just as heavy as mine.

"Uh, hey," I replied, glancing at his friends. Kyle's smirk hadn't faded, but his sharp gaze flicked between Sam and me, his curiosity palpable. Beside him, Ben's expression darkened, his glare narrowing in on me as though he could peel back my thoughts with sheer force.

"Can we talk?" Sam asked, his tone quiet but urgent. He shifted slightly, blocking me from the others' line of sight.

"Sure," I said, my voice barely audible over the pounding in my chest.

"Not here," he added quickly, glancing over his shoulder. "During break—meet me in the music block, okay?"

I nodded, the nervous flutter in my chest growing into a full-blown storm. "Okay."

Sam gave me a faint, almost apologetic smile before turning back to his friends. I didn't wait to see their reactions. My feet carried me down the hall, my pace quickening as if I could outrun the weight of their stares.

By the time break rolled around, I was a mess of nerves. My palms were sweaty, and my thoughts raced with every possible scenario. What exactly did Sam need to say? Maybe it was about boundaries or setting things straight after what happened. The fact that he even wanted to talk felt like a small victory, but the uncertainty of it all was suffocating.

The walk to the music block felt endless, every step weighed down by anticipation. When I finally reached the room, it was quiet, the faint hum of the school's heating system the only sound. I lingered near the piano, running my fingers over the keys without pressing them. Sam shouldn't be far behind, but sitting there and waiting felt impossible. My nerves demanded an outlet.

I slid onto the bench and started playing—a soft, meandering melody I'd been messing with for weeks. The notes flowed automatically, my fingers moving as though they had a mind of their own. The music calmed me, filling the room with something tangible, something I could control.

I was so lost in it that I didn't hear the door open.

"That sounds really good," Sam's voice startled me, breaking the spell.

I turned sharply, my cheeks warming. "Oh," I stammered, unsure of what to say. My heart raced for an entirely different reason now.

Sam stood just inside the doorway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He smiled faintly, his eyes soft. "Sorry," he said, his voice low. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's fine," I said quickly, standing up too fast and nearly knocking over the bench. My stomach churned as I searched for the right words, the tension from the hallway rushing back. "Listen, about the other night—"

"Jay."

"I'm sorry," I blurted, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "I shouldn't have... I mean, I didn't mean to make things weird. I—"

"Jay," he said again, stepping closer. His tone was firm but gentle, and the look in his eyes made me freeze.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering as he closed the distance between us.

"I've been thinking about last night," he began, his voice quieter now. "A lot. Probably too much."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he held up a hand. "Please, let me finish."

I nodded, my throat tight.

"I don't know who I am right now," he admitted, his voice shaky but honest. "I don't know if I'm gay or bi or... something else. But I do know that ever since that moment on the couch, all I've been able to think about is kissing you. And when it finally happened..."

His voice faltered, and my breath caught.

"When it finally happened," he continued, his eyes locking onto mine, "it felt right. Scary, but right."

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until he stepped closer, so close that I could feel the warmth radiating off him.

"I need time to figure this out," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I know one thing for sure—I want to kiss you again."

Before I could respond, his lips were on mine. The kiss was softer this time, slower, but it sent the same rush of warmth through me. His hands hesitated at first but found their way to my shoulders, pulling me closer.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched mine, filled with uncertainty and something deeper—hope. "please don't tell anyone," he said quietly. "Not yet. I just... this is all just...."

"I get it," I said, my voice steady despite the chaos inside me, brief memories of Ben and the secret with Ben, was this just more of the same? My mind couldn't help but wonder but then Sam had asked it as a question, he hadn't demanded my silence.

Please don't tell anyone, and the words not yet rang over and over in my head

And I understood it was true I did get it, it took me a while to understand it too to go from my first kiss to out it was a journey, a journey Sam needed time to understand

"Thank you," he murmured, his lips quirking into a small, genuine smile.

For a moment, we just stood there, the silence between us feeling like an unspoken promise. Then he gently took my paw, squeezing it before leading me toward the door.

"We should get to class," he said, his tone lighter now. "You know how Mr. Moon gets if we're late."

"Should I wait and come out after you?" I asked, hesitating.

Sam shrugged, his confidence surprising me. "Why would we need to do that?" He squeezed my paw again, only letting go when the door opened, and the hallway noise greeted us once more.

Somehow, this felt different. Sam felt different.

And I was willing to wait. For him, I'd wait.