Chapter 25 #2
Max leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay, let’s break this down. The way he looks at you? Like he’s memorizing every fucking thing you say?”
Ezra pointed. “The way he finds excuses to touch you? Like, oh no, the bar is so crowded, better squeeze past Liam for the tenth time tonight.”
Renzo grinned. “Or the fact that he’s at Stag & Lantern constantly now?”
I gritted my teeth. “Maybe he just likes the atmosphere.”
Ezra laughed. “Sure. And maybe I’m straight.”
“Even if, again, he isn’t, I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”
Ezra tilted his head. “Why not?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said, swirling his drink.
I stared at him. “Because… I just don’t do relationships.”
Callie focused. “Why not?”
The whole room went still.
Fuck.
I shifted, trying to brush it off. “It’s just not my thing.”
Max hummed, unconvinced. “Bullshit.”
Ezra took another sip of his drink. “Is it the commitment thing?”
Renzo shrugged. “Or the fear thing?”
My stomach clenched.
Callie tilted their head, observing me with quiet amusement. “Or is it that you do want him, but you’re too fucking scared to let yourself have him?”
I clenched my jaw. “Jesus!”
“You flirt,” Renzo cut in, eyes glinting. “You touch. You hover. But the second it means something, you pull back.”
I swallowed.
Because the worst part?
The worst fucking part?
They weren’t wrong.
And I had no idea what the hell to do about it.
The room was too quiet now.
Too heavy.
I sighed, rubbing my jaw. “Look. Sam’s my friend. That’s it. He’s not looking for more, and neither am I.”
Max sneered. “Then why do you look at him like that?”
I scowled. “Like what?”
Callie leaned in. “Like you want him.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Like you miss him when he’s not around.”
My stomach twisted.
“You’re not as fun when he’s not here,” they added, softer now. “You know that, right?”
I clenched my jaw. “I have plenty of fun without him.”
Callie smiled knowingly. “Sure, babe.”
Renzo hummed. “And if you’re so sure there’s nothing there, why do you get so tense when we talk about him?”
Ezra leaned back, smirking. “It’s okay to admit it, Carter. You’re into him.”
I stared down at the condensation on my beer bottle.
Maybe I was.
But what the fuck was I supposed to do about it?
The conversation about Sam had left a strange weight in my chest. Which meant it was the perfect time for Max to launch into one of his dramatics.
Max let out a long, suffering sigh, stretching his arms across the back of the couch. “Okay, listen. I am this close to giving up on the gym entirely.”
Renzo teased. “That’s the spirit.”
Ezra scoffed. “Yeah, right. You love the gym. What happened? Did someone try to talk to you while you were mid-set?”
Max groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “Worse.”
Callie gasped. “Oh no. The gym bro plague?”
Max shook his head. “Worse.”
I leaned forward, brows raised. “What could possibly be worse than unsolicited workout advice?”
Max inhaled deeply, then exhaled just as dramatically. “The new trainer.”
Silence.
Then Ezra narrowed his eyes. “New trainer?”
Max nodded grimly. “The unreasonably attractive new trainer.”
Callie smiled. “Oh, so you mean your new gym crush.”
Max groaned again, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “It’s not a crush. It’s a problem.”
Renzo chuckled. “What do you mean? Yell too much?”
Max shook his head. “No, he’s nice.”
Callie gasped. “A personal trainer being nice? The horror.”
I took a sip of my beer. “How dare they do their job?”
Max shot me a look. “No, you don’t get it. They’re nice and hot. Like, Greek-god-carved-from-marble levels of hot. And it’s ruining my fucking life.”
Ezra snorted. “Okay, let’s unpack this. Ruining your life. How, exactly?”
Max threw up his hands. “I can’t focus! I go to the gym to work out, not to be personally attacked by the hottest person I’ve ever seen.”
Renzo did his best Ezra impression. “Attacked. How, exactly?”
Max groaned. “Do you know how hard it is to concentrate when someone with biceps the size of my entire head is correcting my form in the softest, most encouraging voice imaginable?”
Callie let out a low whistle. “Damn. That does sound rough.”
Max pointed at them. “Thank you. I was minding my own business, trying to get through my squats, and then he appeared out of nowhere, all ‘Hey, just a tip, try engaging your core a little more here,’ and then put his hands on my waist to show me.”
Ezra gasped. “Hand contact?”
Max nodded solemnly. “Hand contact.”
Renzo chuckled. “You do realize personal trainers literally do that for a living, right?”
Max scowled. “Yeah, well, they don’t usually look like they stepped out of a fucking underwear campaign while they’re doing it.”
I laughed, leaning back against the couch. “So what I’m hearing is, you’re deeply in love.”
Max huffed. “No. I am in hell.”
Callie inquired. “And are we sure he’s single?”
Max hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly. “I haven’t seen a ring.”
Ezra needled. “So what’s stopping you from, I don’t know, casually dying mid-bench press and forcing them to resuscitate you with mouth-to-mouth?”
Max rolled his eyes. “My dignity.”
Renzo cackled. “Since when do you have dignity?”
Max grabbed a pillow and launched it at him. “You’re all useless.”
Callie leaned in,. “So, when’s your next training session?”
Max groaned, covering their face with both hands. “Tomorrow morning.”
Ezra smirked. “Oh, we need updates.”
Max let out another sigh. “If I survive, you’ll be the first to know.”
I chuckled, shaking my head, but the moment I leaned back against the couch, my mind drifted somewhere else entirely.
Sam.
I’d spent the last ten minutes laughing at Max’s misery, but the second I let myself breathe, the reality of our conversation earlier crept back in. Callie said Sam would date me in a heartbeat. That I was too stupid to see it. That everyone else already had.
I tried to brush it off. I was good at that. Great, actually.
But my brain didn’t cooperate.
Because Sam had been showing up. Not just physically, but in ways that stuck.
Showing up after my shifts, leaning against his car while I locked up like he just happened to be passing by.
Coming on the second camping trip when he absolutely did not have to, easing into the pool like it was nothing, like being naked and pressed in close with me was no big deal.
The way he laughed was more relaxed out there.
The way he touched without realizing he was doing it.
The first time we fucked still replayed in flashes I hadn’t asked for.
The heat. The way it didn’t feel like a notch on a belt or a fun distraction, but something grounded, something that lingered after we were done.
And then the cookout, back to school creeping in, Sam hovering just close enough all night that I could feel him without touching him.
Like we were circling something neither of us wanted to name.
And then Jordan.
God, Jordan.
That second hookup should have been simple.
It should have reset me, reminded me who I was.
Liam Carter, king of the casual fuck, allergic to feelings, great at keeping things clean and uncomplicated.
Instead, I’d been in someone else’s bed thinking about Sam’s hands, Sam’s mouth, Sam’s quiet intensity when he was really paying attention.
That was the part that scared me.
The part that Maxie Glam had seen right through.
I was halfway out the door on Pride Night, shirt forgotten inside, when a no wig, no lashes, and no glitter Maxie caught my arm as I ducked back in.
Just Liam and Max. No drag or audience. “You’re gonna fuck this up if you keep pretending like you don’t care,” he said, voice low but steady.
“You want him. He wants you. Stop hiding behind clever jokes and hookups and figure out what the hell you want before you lose it.”
I’d laughed it off then. But the words stayed.
They were still echoing now.
I knew Sam had been looking at me differently. I knew we weren’t the same as we used to be, not really. And I definitely knew I’d been noticing him in ways that didn’t switch off once the lights came up or the music stopped.
It wasn’t just wanting him.
I liked him.
Liked the way he listened. The way he called me on my bullshit without making me feel small. The way he fit into my life without trying to rearrange it. The way being around him made me want to slow down instead of chase the next thing.
I liked Sam Ortiz.
And sitting there, with Callie’s words echoing in my head and the weight of my own patterns pressing down on me, I had to admit something I’d been avoiding for weeks.
This wasn’t accidental or casual anymore.