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“Still counts.”

He steps aside and nods toward the hallway. “Take your bag back to your room. I’m starting dinner.”

I look at my clothes on the floor, then the bag.

“You’re going to cook?”

“Yeah.” He’s turned from me, already heading to the kitchen. “Gotta eat right?”

“Like this?”

He laughs.

“Naked people still eat, Paul.” He pulls open the fridge door and ducks inside. “Besides, it’s your birthday, right?”

I actually have to think before answering. “Yeah. I guess so.”

I watch his back moving as he shifts around produce we didn’t have a day ago.

“So go put your crap away, do whatever you need to do to take care of that giant boner, and relax while a cam god prepares your birthday feast.” He half turns and flashes a cocky grin. “You know, I could name about a hundred usernames that would tip fat tokens for this.”

I huff a laugh. I could name them too, but I wouldn’t dare.

Clint straightens and turns, a bag of tomatoes in his hand. His eyes go straight to my hard-on. A shiver coasts over my skin.

“Seriously,” he says, nodding downward. “Please go take care of that. It’s very distracting.”

I swallow hard. My whole face and chest are on fire. My cock gets harder to spite me.

“Yeah, okay. Sure. I’ll… just go to my bedroom.”

I bend for the bag and nearly reach for my underwear on instinct.

Clint’s eyebrow lifts.

I leave it.

When I finally leave my room, the sun has slid lower. I’m naked in my backyard, with just a few hundred feet of landscaping to protect me.

That remains a fact no matter how many times I try not to think it.

The pool catches pieces of light. Wet glistens on the stone path where the afternoon rain never quite retreated. Somewhere inside, Clint moves around the kitchen with cupboard doors and running water and the occasional quiet mutter that might be English.

I sit on the edge of the pool and slide my feet in. The water is warm from the day.

I put on sunglasses and hope that doesn’t violate the no-clothing rule.

For a few minutes, I’m alone. That helps, and it doesn’t.

I let my legs drift in the water and think about every queer space Renny dragged me to where nakedness was expected, or at least condoned. Campgrounds. Resorts. Beaches.

I wore shorts every time.

Renny teased me gently at first, then stopped when he realized I couldn’t make myself join in.

“You think too much,” he said.

He was right. He was often right in the most irritating ways.