“Excellent.” He smirked again. “Now finish yourreps. We’ve got another twenty-five minutes, and then I want details.”
We ended up at one of those low-dollar chain restaurants that wanted to be more than fast food but wasn’t. Diego ordered a burger and fries. I got a salad because I was still feeling last night’s exertion in my muscles and didn’t need to add a food coma to the mix.
“So,” Diego said the moment our server left. “Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill.”
“Chase. You showed up to the gym looking like you’d discovered the meaning of life. Either you got laid or you’ve joined a cult . . . and since you’re not trying to recruit me, I’m going with option one.”
I sighed and took a sip of my water. “Fine. Yes. Finn came over last night.”
“And?”
“And . . . things happened.”
“What kind of things?”
“Diego—”
“Come on! I’ve been listening to you stress about this guy almost a month. The least you can do is giveme some information.” He leaned forward.
I felt my face heat again. “It was . . . yeah. It was good.”
“How good are we talking? Like ‘nice time, might do it again’ good or ‘holy shit, I need to marry this guy’s ass’ good?”
I looked down at my salad, searching for words. “My kitchen counter is so damn hard.”
Diego blinked and stared, burger halfway to his mouth.
“Your what?”
“My kitchen counter. You know, the granite ones?”
He set his burger down. “You . . . and Finn . . . and the kitchen counter?”
I shrugged with my brows. “It was his idea. I think my knees are bruised.”
He burst out laughing.
When he came up for air, he pressed, “Okay, rewind. The visual I have can’t be right. Help me here.”
“We didn’tdo iton the counter. I mean, we started there and sort of did, but . . . fuck . . . why am I telling you this? It’s like handing the enemy a bazooka.”
Diego was apoplectic.
“You can’t stop now. Red Card!”
“Just . . . set the counter aside, okay?” I blew outa breath, ran a hand through my hair, and tried to think of a way—any way—to salvage my dignity. “The whole night was . . . I don’t even know how to describe it. It was like—everything clicked. We just . . . worked. It’s nuts, but it felt like we’d been doing it for years instead of hours.”
Diego sat back, his laughter fading and a slow smile spreading across his face. “That good, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“And how do you feel about it now? Regrets? Awkwardness?”
“No. None. I feel . . .” I paused, trying to articulate the thing that had been sitting in my chest all day. “I feel happy. Genuinely happy. And I keep thinking about when I can see him again.”
“Whoa. This isn’t just about the sex.” His brows bunched. “When can you see him again?”
