“Nice work,” I say encouragingly, holding up my fist for her to bump.
“Thanks,” she says before her eyes rove over my chest, and for the first time in my life, I’m grateful I still have clothes on. “I’m Sasha.”
“Liam,” I reply, before attempting to step around the front of the rack to tell Damon to take a break.
But I don’t get far before Sasha stops me. “Um, any chance I could get your number?”
Damon’s head whips toward us, watching the interaction with an unreadable expression on his face. His cheeks are pink from effort, the hair at the base of his neck is damp, there’s asheen of sweat on his upper lip as well, and the veins in his forearms are extra pronounced after gripping the dumbbells for so long.
“My number?” I ask stupidly, not following.
She laughs nervously. “Uh, yeah, that thing that allows people to call or text you? I’d ask for your Snap or TikTok handle, but I’m like the last human on earth who doesn’t have social media.”
A girl my age who doesn’t buy into social media? This chick is a fucking unicorn.
So why thefuckdo the words, “I’m actually seeing someone, but thank you,” come out of my mouth?
Glancing back at Damon, he looks as surprised as I feel.
Sasha smiles. “I figured you probably were, but it was worth a try. You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take, right? She’s a lucky girl.”
“Who?” I ask, my brows knitting together.
“Um, your girlfriend?”
My synapses are short-circuiting, and I’m not following along because the other half of my brain is choosing now to replay how it felt to hold Damon in my arms as I slept last night, the look of relief on his face when he told me he was gay, the terror in his eyes when he told me he was in love with me, the love in his eyes when he moved in after my mom died and made every meal and washed every load of laundry. It’s replaying his words from earlier about sexuality being on a spectrum, and how, as long as he knew I was happy and safe, he could survive anything. I think about my kiss with Vox. How it didn’t feel wrong because he was a guy; it felt wrong because he wasn’t…
“Damon.”
“What?” Sasha says, not hearing me.
“I don’t have a girlfriend. My boyfriend’s name is Damon.”
Thank God Damon isn’t holding the dumbbells anymore because I’m afraid we’d be headed to the emergency room for broken toes.
I move around Sasha, rushing to Damon because I need to know if what I’m feeling is real. Not giving him a chance to talk, I grab his hand, pulling him out of the gym and into the locker room with me.
Backing him into the wall, he’s too stunned to speak.
How could I have missed this? How could I not have known this about myself?The questions are endless, but I push them aside.
Caging Damon in with my hands braced on either side of his head, my eyes flit between his.
“I want to try something, and I don’t know if it’ll make things better or worse, but after the shit you pulled last night, you owe me the chance to figure it out.”
He swallows hard and nods, keeping silent.
I’ve now been kissed three times by guys, but I didn’t initiate any of them, and I’m a little unsure where to start despite wanting to do this. Thankfully, as always, Damon senses I need help and guides me by bringing his hand to the back of my neck, slowly pulling me closer.
“Is this what you wanted?” he pants, our mouths an inch apart.
My fucking dick jumps like it’s trying to abandon ship and find refuge in his gym shorts.
That’s new,but fuck it. We only have five days left, and if I feel the same way about Damon that he feels about me, then I need to figure my shit out fast.
I bring my lips down to his, sliding my hand to his hip. It’s familiar to me since I spent most of last night with my hand on it, ensuring he wasn’t going to run from me again.
Damon brings his other hand up, so he’s now got both hands around the back of my neck, holding me to him, and before long, he groans and pushes his hips forward.
