The university canteen was too loud. Too bright. Too crowded.
Christian stood stiffly in the line, his tray clutched in both hands, pretending he wasn't already overstimulated by the smell of food, the scrape of chairs, the voices bouncing off every surface. His hoodie felt too warm. His stomach was tight. He wasn't sure if he was hungry or sick.
The other players piled their trays high with zero hesitation. Pasta. Gravy-covered meat. Heaping piles of mashed potatoes and something that might've been apple crisp. Christian's tray, by comparison, held a cup of plain yogurt, a banana, and two sad slices of cucumber.
"Seriously?"
The voice behind him made him freeze.
"You're gonna pass out before practice even starts if that's all you're eating."
Christian turned slightly—already knowing who it was.
Weston. Hoodie sleeves rolled to his elbows, tray balanced on one hand, standing way too close behind him in line like they were sharing a grocery cart.
"I'm fine," Christian muttered.
"Yeah, sure." Caleb reached past him and plucked a roasted chicken thigh off the steam tray. "You need protein. Here." He dropped it onto Christian's tray.
Christian blinked at the sudden addition. "Don't," he said flatly.
"Don't what? Help you? Make sure you eat properly—like Morrison asked?"
"I can feed myself."
"Could've fooled me." Caleb smirked and reached again, adding sautéed vegetables, mashed potatoes, rice, and two pieces of brownie. On his tray he already had a giant portion of pasta, one of meatballs, a side salad, and a little bowl with strawberries. "Just try everything. We'll share."
"I don't want to share."
"Tough luck. Sharing is caring, Evans."
Christian opened his mouth to protest—but the line moved, and suddenly they were at the drink station and Caleb was grabbing one sparkling water and two chocolate milks, balancing all three on his tray like he'd done it a thousand times.
Christian followed silently, cheeks burning. He scanned the dining area, looking for a table, preferably one far from—
"Here's good," Caleb said, steering him toward a half-empty table like Christian hadn't just started scanning for an escape route.
"I was going to—"
Caleb cut in, tilting his head. "Nah. This one's closer. Sit."
He nudged Christian toward the wall seat and sat right beside him, their knees bumping under the table.
Trapped. Of course.
Alec appeared moments later, tray in hand, all warm smile and hopeful eyes. "Mind if I sit next to—"
"Taken," Caleb said smoothly, gesturing to the free chair across from him.
Alec blinked, then gave a sheepish smile and ended up beside Kimmy, who'd just sat down with a mountain of food and his usual easy swagger.
Kai showed up not long after, plopping down next to Alec. "They had miso soup. Bless."
Everybody started munching like there was no tomorrow, but Christian was looking at the food on his tray with no enthusiasm.
Caleb leaned in slightly, his voice lower. "Eat, Evans."
Christian stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork just to make a point.
Kimmy was already talking, asking about everyone's impressions of the camp so far. Kai launched into a story about the last skating drill, Alec cracked a joke about Coach Morrison being secretly a cyborg—but Christian couldn't focus.
Not when Caleb's thigh was pressed to his.
Not when Caleb casually rested his arm on the back of Christian's chair.
Not when Caleb leaned in and offered him a bite of perfectly cooked pasta straight from his own fork.
Christian's ears went pink. He looked away.
"Don't be shy," Caleb teased. "You're doing great."
Christian wanted to throw the pasta at him. Or maybe himself. Either worked.
Then—under the table—Caleb's fingers brushed his knee. Just once.
Christian flinched and let the fork down.
Caleb didn't stop. Instead, he leaned in and murmured just loud enough for Christian to hear, "Pick up your fork."
Christian glanced sideways, glaring. "What?"
"You heard me. Pick it up."
Christian stabbed another bite of chicken and shoved it in his mouth. Caleb's hand disappeared.
For five seconds.
Then it was back, this time sliding along Christian's thigh with slow, infuriating confidence.
Christian froze mid-chew.
"Eat," Caleb whispered, voice smug and low. "Or I keep going."
"You're insane."
Caleb just smiled and speared a piece of carrot from his salad, holding it out with a raised eyebrow. "Open up, Evans."
Christian rolled his eyes so hard it nearly cracked his skull, but he leaned forward and took the bite—just to make it stop. Caleb's hand disappeared again. Temporarily.
Christian tested the theory. He paused. Set his fork down.
Five seconds later, fingers slid up his inner thigh.
He shot Caleb a murderous look.
"Just helping you stay focused," Caleb said, biting into his own food like he wasn't committing slow psychological warfare under the table.
Across from them, Alec and Kai were deep in a conversation about protein shakes that made Kai go full nutritionist mode and dissect all the ingredients methodically. Kimmy was on his phone, playing some game he was obsessed with lately and trying at the same time to eat his food. No one seemed to notice what was happening.
Christian, however, was losing his mind. Every bite kept the hand away. Every pause brought it back. It was the worst dining experience of his life. And somehow, the best.
Caleb was feeding him like he always had been. He gave him a piece of everything from his tray and watched carefully to see what Christian liked best, then kept feeding him more of it. After every bite Christian took, Caleb followed with one of his own—like the fork hadn't just been in Christian's mouth a few seconds ago.
Kimmy suddenly raised his head from his phone and glanced between them with a knowing squint. "Evans, you're quiet. Camp's not scaring you already, is it?"
Camp was not as scary as Caleb. But he would not say that.
Christian opened his mouth—and Caleb's hand slid higher again.
He made a small choking noise. "N-No. I mean. It's... it's great."
Alec tilted his head. "You okay, man?"
"He's fine," Caleb said smoothly, reaching over and placing a soft, suspiciously gooey brownie closer. "He just needs sugar."
Christian stared at it.
"Eat the damn brownie," Caleb whispered.
Christian ate the brownie.
Caleb leaned back, smirking like he'd won something.
Christian glared sideways. "I hate you."
"Sure you do," Caleb said, bumping his knee again. "But you're so cute doing it."
Christian nearly choked on his chocolate milk. He set the box down and stared at his tray like it had personally betrayed him. His fingers twitched against the fork, and his thigh was still tingling from Caleb's last touch.
Kimmy raised an eyebrow. "How are you two getting along?"
"Just fine," Caleb said before Christian could answer. "I'm winning him over with my charm."
"Ah," Kimmy said, grinning. "You're pulling the Weston Special."
"The what?" Christian blurted, then immediately regretted asking. He was not interested at all in Caleb's moves.
"Flirt so hard they forget they don't like you," Alec said, stealing a grape from Kai's tray. "Classic move."
"Shut up," Caleb muttered, but he didn't sound mad. If anything, he sounded smug. His knee nudged Christian's under the table. Again.
Christian took a huge bite of rice just to give his mouth something to do besides scream.
Alec leaned forward slightly. "You two have known each other for a long time?"
Christian stiffened.
Caleb answered easily. "Since middle school."
Kimmy let out a low whistle. "Damn. You have history."
Kai nodded, eating his miso in an elegant way. "I think they have chemistry too."
A totally unnecessary observation, delivered with zero emotion. Classic Kai.
Christian choked again—this time on air.
"I'm going to kill all of you," he said under his breath.
Caleb grinned. "Careful. You'll hurt my feelings."
"Do you even have those?"
"I don't know. Want to find out?"
Under the table, a warm hand slid against his thigh again.
Christian almost stabbed himself with the fork. He should have done that to Caleb's hand.
He'd lost count of the touches by now.
The table descended into conversation about practice schedules and the weekend scrimmage, but Christian was only half-listening. His focus kept drifting—to the warmth at his side, to Caleb's smug expression, to the damn brownie that had definitely been a trap.
At some point, Caleb started offering the fresh strawberries. Bright, juicy, too sweet.
Christian surprised himself by how much he licked them.
He didn't even question the next bite Caleb held out. Just opened his mouth and let it happen. Again. And again.
He tried to ignore the satisfaction on Caleb's face—and the way he kept licking his lips after every bite like he was savoring something that wasn't even on his plate.
He hated how good the food actually tasted when Caleb was the one who made him eat it.
He hated how full he felt. Not sick-full. Not guilty. Just… satisfied.
And he hated how a part of him wanted to ask Caleb to do it again tomorrow.
At one point, Caleb leaned close to grab a napkin and didn't move back right away.
"Didn't think I'd get to sit with you today," he said, voice low, meant just for him. "Thought you'd try to avoid me again."
"I was going to," Christian admitted, eyes still fixed on his tray.
"What changed?" Caleb asked curiously.
Christian answered resignedly. "You blocked the table."
"Right. I'm annoying."
Christian glanced up. "You're dangerous."
Caleb's eyes glinted. "So are you, Evans."
For a second, neither of them moved.
The noise of the canteen faded, voices replaced by the pounding of blood in Christian's ears.
Then Kimmy slammed his tray down, standing up.
"All right, nerds. Some of us still have stuff to do."
That snapped the spell. Caleb leaned back, casually finishing his chocolate milk.
Christian blinked down at his tray. He'd eaten most of it. Like… actually eaten.
And his stomach wasn't twisted in guilt or shame.
It just… existed. Like a normal person's.
He hated that it took Caleb Weston and his reckless thigh strategy to get him there.
Alec got up too, nudging Kai. "You coming?"
"Five more grapes," Kai said. "I'm rationing joy."
Christian moved to stand, but Caleb's hand rested lightly on his lower back, keeping him seated for half a second longer.
"Tomorrow," Caleb murmured near his ear. "Same seat."
Christian didn't respond.
But when he finally stood and walked away, heart pounding like he'd just survived a warzone disguised as lunch, he realized something terrifying:
He kind of wanted it to happen again.