I grin at my phone. This time, the reply takes longer. I’m hoping he’s just serving a customer and I haven’t crossed a line saying that. I know I shouldn’t be flirting with him while I’m in the middle of the gym, but I can’t help myself.
Gabe:It was.
Gabe:Those shorts made the evidenceveryeasy to see…
A laugh bursts out of me. He’s flirting back.
Me:Is that a complaint?
The response takes so long that I almost think he isn’t giving me one.
Gabe:No
One word. That’s all it takes, and I’m molten. I shake my head, still smiling as the next group of clients comes in. My body goes through the motions, but my brain keeps replaying the way Gabe looked at me, the way he said my name, the heat in his voice when he asked me not to stop.
And yeah, I’m wired tight. I’m restless. But I’m also stupidly happy about it.
24
NOAH
The credits roll on the movie. The screen flickers pale light across the living room, turning Gabe’s profile into something ethereal, like he belongs to another world. It feels like we’re suspended in some pocket of time where nothing can reach us. He’s curled up on the other end of the couch, one leg bent, socked foot resting against my thigh like he didn’t notice he’d done it.
I notice. I’ve noticed every little thing he’s done all week.
The way his fingers linger on me when we kiss, reluctant to let go. The way his mouth has gotten more demanding over the past few days. The way his eyes track me when he thinks I’m not paying attention, catching on my hands, my shoulders, my mouth, consuming me piece by piece. And the way he can’t seem to help himself from brushing against me, small touches that feel anything but accidental.
Every one of those little things seeps deeper under my skin. It makes me ache, leaves me walking around half-hard just from the ghost of his hand on my arm, the drag of his mouth when he finally lets me taste him again. He doesn’t even realize whathe’s doing to me, or maybe he does, because sometimes I swear there’s a flicker in his eyes before he looks away, like he knows he’s driving me insane and doesn’t know how to stop.
Ever since that night—since he asked me not to touch him too roughly and I swore I wouldn’t—I’ve been careful. Careful with my words, careful with my hands, careful with him. I haven’t asked him for anything since. I’ve kissed him like we’ve got all the time in the world. Because we do. Because he’s worth it.
But even with me going slow, it’s Gabe who’s been turning the heat up. This morning, it was him who deepened the kiss, it was him who started to grind on me. That should make me relax. And it does, a little. But it also makes me need him in a way I didn’t think was possible. It’s killing me. And it’s the sweetest fucking way to go.
The text he sent me has been replaying in my mind all day. He wants to go further, and as much as I do too, I won't be the one to instigate anything more than kissing.
I drag my eyes off the credits and look at him. He’s worrying his lip between his teeth, fiddling with the blanket pooled in his lap, pretending to be absorbed in the rolling names on screen.
“Not a bad ending,” I say, breaking the quiet. “Could’ve been worse.”
He lets out a loud snort, unlike anything I've heard from him. The level of happy it makes me is unhinged. “High praise… forBaywatchof all things. I can’t believe you made me watch that.”
I lean closer, letting my shoulder brush his. “Hey, you picked the movie tonight!”
His shoulder shake with laughter against mine. “You said you never saw it.”
“And I still haven’t,” I add, voice deepening, “I’ve been more interested in what was happening over here than whatever was on the screen.”
Thatcatches his attention, his fingers pause on the blanket, and he stills.
For a long moment, I think that’s it.
Then he shifts. That socked foot presses firmer into my thigh, then slides away as he pushes up to his knees, the blanket falling to the floor. His hands hover for a second, suspended like he’s still deciding, before they land on my shoulders, trembling.
I keep completely still, waiting to see what he’ll do.
He doesn’t look at me until he’s straddling my lap, knees braced against the cushions, breath stalled. Then he lifts his eyes—andfuck. Whatever choice he was making a second ago, he’s made it now.
He’s close enough that I can see every detail, even in the dim light. His pupils are blown wide, that mossy-green ring encircling them, glowing despite the shadows.
