My brain, traitor that it is, immediately supplies several extremely inappropriate possibilities.
The image hits fast and vivid—his hands, his mouth, the look he gets right before he wrecks me—and I almost choke on my own breath.
Ollie watches my expression change. His brows lift. Then, slowly, realization dawns, and he blushes.
It starts at the collar of his shirt and creeps upward, warm and unmistakable, coloring his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. The same blush that first caught my attention over twelve years ago. The same one that made me want to know exactly what thoughts could undo a man that composed.
Miles looks between us. “I feel like I missed something.”
“You did,” I say quickly.
Ollie clears his throat, looking suddenly very interested in his guitar. “Ignore him.”
“I am,” Miles says, unconvinced.
But the room settles again, the warmth lingering, the quiet between us charged in a way that feels both familiar and entirely new.
And I can’t stop thinking about those tricks.
Later, after Miles disappears and the city outside the windows hums with distant life, Ollie looks at me, serious.
“This feels… normal.”
The word lands heavier than anything else tonight. “Yeah,” I say.
He studies me. “I didn’t think we’d ever get this.”
“Me neither.”
He reaches out, fingers brushing my wrist. “I want this,” he says.
“So do I.”
The secondI step out of the car outside the training facility, the air slices through my coat and settles somewhere behind my ribs. It’s the kind of February cold that makes the sky look metallic and the world feel slightly suspended. I tuck my hands into my pockets and scan the entrance.
There are cameras everywhere.
While it’s not the chaotic swarm from yesterday, there are enough to make a point. Enough to remind me that this is no longer private. That it hasn’t been for days.
I could have had Vinny drop me at the underground garage. It would have been smarter. Quieter. But I didn’t want that today. I wanted to be here, visible and waiting.
The doors slide open, and Ollie steps out.
He’s in team sweats, gym bag over one shoulder, hair still damp from the shower. He spots me almost immediately, and fuck, I’m a chump. My smile is immediate. There’s a flicker in his expression—relief, something warmer—and for a moment, it feels like we’re the only two people in the parking lot.
Then the shutters start firing. The sound is sharp in the cold air.
Ollie doesn’t hesitate. He walks straight toward me. “Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hey.”
It’s such an ordinary word for something that doesn’t feel ordinary at all.
His gaze flicks briefly toward the cameras, then back to me. “You good?”
“I’m fine.” I study him more closely. “You?”
He exhales slowly, like he’s only just realizing he’s been holding his breath. “Better now.” And then he reaches for my hand.
