Evan raised his voice, pitching it directly at the bathroom door.
“And the cheap whore can come out now! Hiding in the bathroom isn’t cute, Silas!”
“Wow,” Cal said, his voice dropping into that playful, offended tone I knew so well. “You think the cheap whore was here to top?”
I pressed my forehead against the door, face burning.
“I mean…” Evan sounded confused. “Look at you, Cal. You’re covered in marks. Clearly, he… you know.”
“Uh huh,” Cal hummed, sounding amused. “Only on holidays, Ev. Don’t box us in.”
“I… I don’t need to know the schedule,” Evan stammered. “Just get him out here!”
I sighed, defeated. I unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Evan was leaning against the wall, looking smug. Cal was standing by the bed, shirtless, sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips, displaying the very obvious red nail marks I’d left there a few hours ago.
I stepped out, barefoot, jeans unbuttoned at the top, hair sticking up in every direction.
“There he is,” Evan grinned, looking me up and down, clearly taking Cal’s ‘holidays’ comment to heart. “The man, the myth, the… versatile legend.”
“I hate you,” I muttered, refusing to make eye contact as I walked past him to grab a coffee.
Evan chuckled, but as he looked between us, the disheveled bed, the marks on Cal, the sheer exhaustion on my face, the smirk faded into something more serious.
“Alright,” Evan said. He looked at me, then Cal. “Jokes aside.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “Just… don’t hurt each other. Okay? I’m serious. We can’t do the fallout again. I’m not sure either of you would survive it a second time.”
Old instincts kicked in. I felt exposed. I took a half step away from Cal, creating distance, putting a safe buffer between us. I didn’t know what the rules were now. I didn’t know what last night, or this morning meant, if we were pretending this didn’t happen the second we stepped out of this hotel room.
Suddenly, Cal moved. Ignoring Evan entirely. He stepped right into my space, closing the gap I’d just tried to make. He snaked his long arm around my waist, his hand splaying flat over my stomach, pulling me flush against his side.
I froze. My breath hitched.
“We’re good, Ev,” Cal said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the side of my neck, right over my pulse point, right in front of Evan. It wasn’t a quick peck. It was lingering. It was a claim.
I stood there, floored. My brain short circuited. We didn’t do this. Weneverdid this. But he was holding me like I belonged there. Like he was daring Evan, or the world, to say a damn word about it.
I looked up and saw Evan’s eyes widen. He looked surprised, but then, a slow, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Alright then,” Evan said, shaking his head. “Get dressed. If you’re late, I’m telling Creative you two were busy… ‘training.’”
He turned to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. He glanced back at Cal’s hips one last time.
“And Cal? Try to walk normally. It’s noticeable.”
Cal grabbed a pillow from the bed and chucked it at the door. “Get the fuck out, Evan!”
Evan ducked out, laughing as the door clicked shut.
I stayed frozen, Cal’s arm still wrapped tight around me. The room was quiet again, save for the echo of Evan’s laughter down the hall.
Cal looked down at me, shaking his head, a smile playing on his swollen lips.
“I fucking hate your friend,” he laughed.
