Not in the wholesome way.
In the‘they get pissed so easily it’s entertaining’way.
There’s something deeply healing in watching a Weston go from calm to murder mode in half a second.
"You’re too much," he complains. "Isn’t your ego big enough yet?"
I shrug, picking up the ball again. "Not yet."
Little angry Weston goblin number two.
Rava’s the first one, obviously. He’s like a premium edition goblin. Limited release.
He’s determined, but way too easy to predict.
Another fake, another spin, and he stumbles, leaving me free to shoot. The ball goes in smoothly again.
I fucking love this. "Showoff, I’m never playing again," Jin mutters, bent over and panting.
Their whole family has this baseline level of irritation that just soothes my soul. Every time they get annoyed, a part of me that died in childhood comes back to life. It’s poetic.
"You’ll thank me someday," I tell him, setting the ball aside and walking toward my bike. "If you can’t handle me, real jerks will eat you alive."
He rolls his eyes but follows, stopping hopefully by the motorcycle. "Can I ride back with you?" he asks.
I scoff, grabbing my helmet. "Kid, your dad would probably make me break my own bones if he saw that."
Well. If only the old man knew.
Jesus Christ. If only he knew what I was doing yesterday with his other son. Who the hell am I even? Today I’m out here playing casual basketball with one Weston boy, and last night I had theotherWeston boy in my room, basically begging me to make out with him.
Okay, fine, he didn’t beg.
Notout loud. But he needed me. And that shoots my ego into outer fucking space. Too bad it’s top-secret. Would’ve been iconic to brag about.
Jin kicks a pebble at me. "Come on, Gio, I’m not a baby—"
"Nope." I spin the ball on my finger. "I’m not putting you on my bike. I’m not dying today."
Not when life is finally getting interesting.
He groans dramatically and walks off to grab the ball.
I smirk. One Weston on my bike would kill me.
The other Weston in front of my face last night? That almost killed me too. But in a much more enjoyable way.
What can I do? I’m a man. I liked our kiss. I’m not gonna lie to myself.
Or to my dick. At least I admit I like men.
I don’t make it a crisis every time a guy looks attractive. My body doesn’t just sit there like, "Wait, is this the correct gender? Let me check my internal rulebook."
Nah. If it feels good, it feels good. End of story.
And that kiss? Yeah. My body had opinions. Strong ones.
My dick especially. He practically wrote a sonnet about it.
