How’re you feeling?
Jed
I wake up to the morning sun slanting through the thin hotel curtains, the warm glow that settled in my chest last night still there.
Aiden is still dead to the world beside me, his dark curls a tangled wreck against his forehead, his breathing deep and even. One of his thick thighs is thrown lazily over mine, trapping me in place, and I run my hand over it gently, feeling the muscle twitch as he dreams.
He frowns in his sleep, then the creases smooth out again as his face relaxes, his thick eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks.
I try to run through my usual morning mental checklist—checkout time, when I need to be back at the gym, what clients I’m seeing today—but my brain won’t crank into gear.
I’m too busy looking at the way Aiden’s cheeks are pink from sleep, and playing reruns of last night in my head.
All of yesterday, actually.
Holding Aiden’s hand as his sister walked down the aisle, and the way his scent bloomed when he caught me looked at him during the ceremony.
The way he shut down his piece-of-work father at dinner like an absolute champion.
Backing me against a tree, taking total control, and blowing my fucking mind into another dimension.
The way he looked at me after, like we were real.
The way it felt real.
And then I think all the way back to the moment he walked into the gym nearly eight months ago, and even before I’d smelled his scent I just wanted to be near him. And it hits me like a smack to the face:
I am completely, utterly, irredeemably in love with Aiden. Holy fuck.
I wake up to the morning sun slanting through the thin hotel curtains, the warm glow that settled in my chest last night still there.
Beside me, Aiden stirs, his dark eyes fluttering open. He looks at me with this raw, soft vulnerability that makes my chest physically ache.
“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice raspy from sleep as he stretches, a faint, hopeful smile touching his lips.
“Morning, Aid,” I say softly, resting my hand on his hip.
“How’re you feeling?” he yawns, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Like I’ve been run over by a freight train,” I say with a small grin, flexing my muscles and wincing at the lingering ache in my lower half. “In a good way.”
Aiden smiles, and god, I’m a goner.
I swallow hard, trying to push through the knot in my throat. “Listen... now that the wedding's over... I guess our fake-dating contract officially expires today, huh?”
I mean it as a gentle opening—a clumsy attempt to ask what comes next without having to be the one to say the terrifying thing out loud.
But the warmth drains from his face so quickly it makes my stomach drop. Whatever I thought I saw there a second ago, I clearly imagined it.
“Right,” Aiden says, his voice suddenly going completely flat. It’s jarring. He sits up, pulling the sheets up to his chest. “Of course. Mission accomplished. You got your free food, I got my family off my back. That’s what we agreed to, isn’t it?”
Panic, sharp and suffocating, threatens to choke me as it occurs to me that I might have misread last night.
I got so wrapped up in my own stupid fucking feelings that I didn’t realize he was just letting off steam, riding the high of the adrenaline of knocking his father down a peg.
Of course he doesn't want me. Not for more than a weekend. Why would he?
“Yeah,” I force out, my defensive instincts kicking into overdrive as I swing my legs over the side of the bed so he can’t see the devastation on my face. “Five-star Yelp review for the fake-boyfriend service. And I’m adding 'exceptionally versatile' to my résumé.”
It's defensive, petty bullshit, but I can't stop it.
“Glad I could help you add to your portfolio,” Aiden bites back, his voice thick with a bitter, defensive edge I haven't heard since the day we met. He drags his hand over his face. “I'll get showered so you can get back to the city. I know you've got a life to get back to.”
“Right,” I say quietly, staring at the floorboards. “I'm sorry, Aiden.”
“Don't be. You fulfilled your end of the deal,” he says, throwing off the covers and stepping toward the bathroom without looking at me. “I’ll pack my things.”
The car ride back to the city is quiet. Aiden spends most of it staring out the window, his jaw clenched and his scent sour.
A couple of times, he turns toward me like he’s about to snap or say something, but he just shakes his head and looks away.
I keep my hands glued to the wheel, nursing the hollow ache in my chest, both of us trapped behind the walls we built to protect ourselves.
—
“Jed. Jed. Jed!”
I look up from the table I’d been boring a hole into with my eyes and find Dylan waving a hand in my face.
“You want another drink?” he says, raising his deep voice over the music.
“I’m good,” I say, gesturing to the half-drunk beer I’ve been nursing for the last forty-five minutes.
Dylan gives me a thumbs up, and Levi frowns at me over his shoulder. He whispers something against Dylan’s ear that makes him laugh and shake his head, his arm winding tightly around his waist, and I feel a sick pang of something uncomfortable in the pit of my stomach.
Jealousy. It’s not a familiar feeling.
“Jed,” Max says loudly next to me. “The pink Power Ranger is hot, right?”
“What?” I frown.
“The pink Power Ranger is not hot,” Kyle half-shouts from across the table. “None of them are—you can’t even see their faces most of the time.”
“But those suits, man—”
“Look, if any of the Power Rangers is hot, it’s yellow. But that’s a moot point, because they’re not fuckable entities, dude, they’re fictional fucking characters and they have no place in your fucked up little fantasies—”
Alex gives me a curious look from his position opposite me in the booth as the two alphas next to us dissolve into bickering, his sharp eyes glittering in that mischievous way of his that usually means he’s reading your mind.
He catches my eye and tilts his head in the direction of the doors.
“I need some air,” he says, just loud enough for me to hear. “Keep me company?”
I nod curtly and follow him, leaving my drink behind and Max and Kyle to their argument, although from the snippets of conversation I hear as I walk away, it sounds like they’ve moved on from fictional characters to wrestling in the blink of an eye.
I close my eyes briefly when we step out into the smoking area out the back of Duke’s, letting the cold air wash over me as we make our way to an empty table.
I take a deep lungful of the late summer air, mixed with the bitter smell of cigarette smoke.
It’s much quieter out here, save for the low hum of smokers talking and the occasional blast of music from inside when the doors swing open.
“You looked like you could do with a breather,” Alex says smoothly, sliding onto the bench across from me and regarding me like he’s studying me. It makes me feel strangely vulnerable.
“After about four beers Max and Kyle start speaking in their own fucking language, I swear,” I mutter. “They’ve been friends for too long.”
Alex hums. “They’re annoying. But I don’t think that’s why you’re so quiet.”
“You’re right. It’s the shitty beer. Do you think they’ve started watering it down?”
Alex cocks his head at me. “No. And neither do you. Look, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
I sigh, rubbing at the back of my neck. Rumbled. “Well you’ve cornered me out here, so I think we do.”
Alex smiles slyly. “You came willingly.”
“Hmm. Touché.” I suddenly wish I’d brought my drink with me.
“Marcus says you haven’t been yourself since you came back from that wedding two weeks ago, so I’m assuming it’s got something to do with your omega, and this odd little situationship you’ve got yourself into. The guys have all noticed, you know.”
Hearing Alex call Aid your omega when I know he’s absolutely not is a sharper pain that I would have expected. “Have they? They haven’t said anything.”
“Because they’re all emotionally stunted troglodytes,” Alex murmurs. “I love you all, but boxers aren’t renowned for their ability to have heartfelt, vulnerable conversations. Coming out tonight was an attempt to cheer you up, you know, but by the look on your face, it’s not working.”
Ah. I didn’t know, but it makes sense when I think about it; it’s Thursday night, which means Aid and I would usually have our training session and then go out afterwards.
He didn’t turn up this week, or last—he didn’t even text me, just cancelled his session through the online booking system.
He’s not been at the gym for his usual workouts, either, or if he has, he’s been avoiding my usual hours, because I haven’t seen him since the wedding. He used to come in almost every day.
“We don’t have a… situationship,” I say. “It was just for show. And now I’m pretty sure he’s been avoiding me.”
Alex nods slowly. “I saw you guys together in the gym a few times, you know. When I came to meet Marcus on my days off. He’s hot.”
I laugh in surprise, possibly for the first time in a few days. “Yeah, he really is.”
“I could tell you had chemistry even from halfway across the room.”
I shrug. “Yeah, well. That’s not always enough, I guess.”
“Did you fuck?”
I laugh again, rubbing my eyes. “Holy shit Alex, don’t beat around the bush.”
“Well, did you?”
I pause. “Yes.”
“More than once?” he pries.
“Why does that matter?”
“Because from what I understand, you’re a one-and-done kind of guy.”
I grimace. “Why do people keep using that expression?”
Alex raises his eyebrows at me.
“Okay, yes,” I sigh. “We slept together twice. Or, two and a half times if you count… you know, other stuff.”
“I absolutely do,” Alex says seriously. “Sex takes many forms. I reject heteronormative definitions of sex, and so should you.”