Bryson's POV
I've been replaying that image in my head for days. Julian is on his bed, hand wrapped around his d**k, eyes closed, and face flushed. The memory hits me at random moments - during class, at work, in the shower - and every time it brings the same rush of heat and confusion.
Every time I convince myself I've forgotten it, the image slips back into my mind without warning. Julian's expression, caught between pleasure and something else. The way he looked at me when he realized I was standing there, mortified but still hard.
What once felt like fragile peace between us now feels tense. Our conversations are clipped, reduced to necessary exchanges. Our movements around each other are overly cautious, like we're constantly aware of personal space and trying not to cross
