Chapter 9
Jude
My cock was already straining against my boxers before I even opened my eyes.
I stared at the ceiling, willing it away. It didn’t listen. It never did, and I couldn’t blame it, not when I’d spent half the night replaying what happened in Ash’s car.
It was always the same dream. The same hazy backseat. The same desperate sounds spilling from Ash’s mouth while he rode me like his life depended on it.
I shoved my hand down my boxers and took care of it quickly and efficiently, trying not to think about golden-brown skin or the weight of him in my lap or the way he’d said yours like he meant it.
Afterward, I lay there staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.
It had been three days since the parking lot. Three shifts of carefully choreographed avoidance where we stuck to the script and didn’t look at each other longer than necessary. We kept it professional and clean. Exactly what it should be.
Except I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
I groaned and pulled back the corner of my blackout curtain above my bed. It had been raining all morning, lightly at first, but it had been building into something heavier as I’d dozed. By the time I staggered into the shower, it was coming down in sheets.
The forecast on my phone promised thunderstorms all afternoon and evening.
Great. Nothing killed attendance like weather warnings. And nothing made stage makeup run faster than humidity and rain. We’d probably spend half the night reapplying, trying to keep the aesthetic sharp while sweating through tactical gear that wasn’t designed for moisture.
I pulled on jeans and a black henley, grabbed my keys, and headed out for coffee and whatever passed for breakfast at one in the afternoon.
The grocery store was mostly empty. Just the usual collection of night shift workers and retired people who shopped during off-peak hours.
I grabbed a basket and made my way toward the fridges up the back, already mentally calculating how many energy drinks I’d need to get through a shift in shit weather.
That’s when I saw him.
Ash stood in front of the refrigerated section, staring at energy drinks like they held the secrets of the universe.
He wore a plain gray t-shirt that clung to his shoulders in a way that should be illegal, and dark jeans that somehow looked better than anything I owned.
His hair was still slightly damp, the undercut visible where it was shaved close to his skull.
He looked good. Too good for someone who should just be another coworker I occasionally fucked in dark places.
I had the advantage; he hadn’t seen him. I could turn around. Grab coffee from the other end of the store. Avoid this entire situation.
Instead, I walked toward him like an idiot.
He must have sensed movement because he glanced over, and our eyes met. Surprise flickered across his face, blending with the same uncomfortable awareness that had been sitting in my chest for days.
“Hey.” My voice came out rougher than intended.
“Hey.” He turned back to the drinks, and I watched his hand hover over the selection. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Needed caffeine.” I stepped closer, reaching for the same brand he was looking at. Our fingers brushed. It was brief but electric, and I pulled back like I’d been burned.
Get it together.
“Vanilla coconut?” He pulled one of the cans from the shelf, eyebrows raised. “Didn’t peg you for the sweet stuff.”
“Could say the same.” I grabbed a can identical to his. “Thought you’d be more of a straight black coffee type.”
“Sometimes. Other times I like the sugar kick.” He smiled, just a little, and it did something stupid to my pulse. “Figure if I’m going to be awake when my body wants to sleep, might as well enjoy it.”
Fair point. I added two more cans to my basket, trying not to notice how close we were standing. How easy it would be to reach out and touch his arm. To pull him closer.
Don’t.
“Storm’s going to kill attendance tonight,” I said instead, filling the silence with something safe.
“Yeah. Checked the forecast.” He moved down the aisle, and I followed without thinking. “Parker’s probably already having a meltdown about numbers.”
“Makeup’s going to be a nightmare. Humidity and rain’s a bitch.”
“Tell me about it.” He stopped in front of the snack section, scanning the shelves. “Spent twenty minutes yesterday trying to get the jawline right, and it still smudged by the second rotation.”
I knew. I’d noticed. The black had bled slightly at the corners, making it look like he had black veins in his throat. When he’d pinned me to the ground, I’d wanted to reach up and smudge it further, ruin it completely.
He grabbed a bag of those weird, spicy dried chickpeas from the shelf. They were the same ones I bought every shift because they were the only thing that didn’t make me feel sick before performing.
“You eat those too?” Why couldn’t I stop talking?
“Yeah. They’re good.” He looked at me, something cautious in his expression. “You?”
“Same.” I reached for my own bag. “Only thing that settles my stomach when I’m running on too much caffeine.”
“Huh.”
That was it. Just huh. But the weight of it sat between us like a confession. This small, stupid thing we had in common that had nothing to do with work or sex or the complicated mess we’d made of whatever this was.
He shifted his basket to his other hand. I noticed the way his forearm flexed, the definition of muscle under golden-brown skin, and had to force myself to look away.
“I should probably grab some waterproof shit,” he said. “For the makeup.”
“Setting spray helps. The theater brand, not the drugstore stuff.”
“Yeah?” He looked genuinely interested, and I realized we were having an actual conversation. About work. About normal things. Like regular people who didn’t spend their nights trying to one-up each other while guests screamed around them.
“Yeah. Holds through sweat better. Rain, though...” I shrugged. “That’s going to be rough no matter what.”
“Looking forward to it already.” His smile was wry, tired, and matched his sarcasm. I caught myself wanting to see more of that expression.
We stood there in the middle of the aisle, baskets in hand, rain hammering against the store windows. I should leave. Say something dismissive and walk away, maintaining the distance we needed to stop us from fucking each other like animals.
“I should—” He gestured vaguely toward the checkout.
“Right. Yeah.”
Neither of us moved.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as someone’s cart squeaked past the end of the aisle.
An announcement played about a sale on chicken, which would have interested me normally.
Now I didn’t care. All these normal, mundane sounds that had nothing to do with strobes and smoke and the persona I wore like armor.
Ash looked different here. Softer, maybe.
Less sharp and dangerous, more human than hunter, younger than me despite his size.
I’d seen him in regular clothes before, coming and going from shifts, but that was always brief and hurried and still existed within the realm of work.
This was unabashedly him. I was seeing a version of him that existed outside the park and the dynamic we’d built.
This is a bad idea. Getting attached. Thinking about him outside of work. Wanting to know what he did with his days, what he watched on TV, whether he drank his vanilla coconut energy drinks now or saved them for before shifts.
“See you tonight?” His voice pulled me back.
I blinked to clear my head.
“Yeah. See you tonight.”
He nodded, turned, and walked toward the front of the store. I watched him go, noting the way he moved even without the tactical gear, without the performance aspect to his stance. It was just Ash in a t-shirt and jeans, carrying a basket of the same weird shit I bought.
I stood there for another minute, holding my coffee and chickpeas, trying to figure out why my brain was going in circles.
Terrifying. That’s what this was. The realization that he existed beyond the person who challenged me on stage, beyond the body I’d fucked in a dark car.
Beyond the first dick I’d craved in years.
He was human. Someone who got up at ungodly hours and needed caffeine to function and bought snacks like everyone else in the world.
He was someone I could actually like if I let myself.
Fuck.
I was in so much trouble.
***
The changing room smelled of ozone and wet concrete.
Rain hammered against the small window near the ceiling, turning the world outside into a gray blur.
I sat at my usual spot, unpacking my kit, trying not to think about the grocery store or the way Ash had looked in that t-shirt or the fact that I’d gotten myself off in the shower afterward with that image burned into my brain.
Professional. That’s what tonight needed to be. Professional and clean and exactly what it should be.
Except the universe had other plans.
Parker burst through the door, phone pressed to his ear, stress written across every line of his face. He ended the call and addressed the room.
“They just killed us. A severe thunderstorm warning has been issued. Most of the outdoor rides are already closed. We’re running skeleton attendance.”
Riley looked up from adjusting her roller skates. “So, we’re closing early?”
“Not yet. Management wants to wait it out, see if it passes.” He rubbed his face. “But we need a backup plan. The social media team’s coming through in twenty to shoot content. BTS videos, photo shoots, performer interactions. The whole thing.”
A groan went through the room. Content days were fine when planned, but scrambling for material while half-dressed and already keyed up for performance was a different story.
“How long?” someone asked.