What if's with Caleb

What if he was your type all along?

How had you never noticed how affectionate they were? The way his fingers lingered, brushing against your scalp in a way that sent warmth curling through your chest? Or how his voice softened when he praised you

"You beat me in the morning run, good job."

It wasn't fair.

He was everywhere, in everything, making your heart race so fast it felt like you might just keel over from sheer emotional overload. And the worst part? He had no idea.

No idea how he was completely unraveling you with every small act of kindness. No idea that with every touch, every glance, every word he was making it impossible for you to keep pretending that this was just friendship.

The living room was dimly lit, the warm glow of a single lamp casting soft shadows across the space. You hadn't expected to find Caleb here, fast asleep on the couch, his breathing slow and steady. He looked peaceful like this, his usual sharp features softened by sleep.

Your heart squeezed.

Even now he was breathtaking. His chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm, dark lashes resting against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted. The faintest hint of moonlight filtered through the window, making his brown hair appear even softer, a warm contrast against his skin.

And, of course, you knew he'd be cold. Caleb always ran cold.

With a small sigh, you grabbed the nearest blanket and gently draped it over him, careful not to wake him. But just as you were about to step away, your gaze lingered.

How could it not?

How could you not admire the way his features looked so relaxed, so perfect? How could you not feel your chest ache with the weight of feelings you were too afraid to admit?

'I love you.'

The thought struck you with full force. You loved him. You had always loved him.

And yet, you were terrified.

Terrified of what might change, of what you could lose if he didn't feel the same.

You swallowed hard, crouching down beside him, your fingers tightening into the fabric of your sleeves as you stared. Your heart pounded. Maybe... just once. He was asleep, after all. Just a small, fleeting kiss. A moment you could keep for yourself.

Slowly, carefully, you leaned in.

Your lips barely brushed against his soft, warm, everything you imagined and more. It lasted only a second, but it sent your pulse skyrocketing.

"What are you doing?"

Your breath caught in your throat.

Caleb's voice was low, slightly raspy from sleep, but undeniably alert.

Your heart stopped. Your entire body froze. And then, before you could think

You bolted.

Spinning on your heel, you took off toward your room in sheer panic. Behind you, there was a shuffle of movement, followed by a deep chuckle and the unmistakable sound of Caleb springing up from the couch.

"Oh, no you don't."

You barely made it a few steps before you heard him chase after you, his footsteps quick and deliberate.

"Caleb—wait, just forget it!" you squeaked, but he was already too close, already closing the distance.

"Not a chance."

With swift, effortless ease, he grabbed your wrist and spun you around, pressing you gently yet firmly against the wall. His body was close, caging you in with his warmth and the steady, unshaken dominance he always carried.