1. Chapter 1
Rylen
The waterpark smells like chlorine and fried food, sun glaring off every slick surface. Maddox stands in front of the waterslides, dripping wet, tattoos vibrant in the sun, throwing up peace signs like he’s onstage at some private rock concert only he can see.
He’s grinning at me through wet blonde locks, cocky as hell, like the whole waterpark is his audience, but I’m the only one that matters.
It feels so good to be out in the world, doing something normal—something where I feel normal, anyway.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Velvet, but sometimes it all just gets too much.
Part of me feels like I’ve never stopped running.
Sure, things have calmed down over the years, especially since Mads opened Velvet and we didn’t have to report to anyone else.
Still, I can’t help that I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, where something catastrophic will come crashing down around us and we’ll have to disappear again.
Maddox barrels into the tube like a madman, hollering the entire way down, while I lean forward, hands resting on my knees trying to slow my breathing.
We’ve already gone down the slide three times.
I screamed every time, mostly to make Mads laugh, and now my throat is scratchy and my lungs are burning on overdrive.
I’ve barely caught my breath from the last loop when Maddox comes bursting out of the pool like he’d been born for it; shaking his hair back, and grinning at me like an idiot.
He wades out of the pool, droplets rolling off his bare skin, and bumps his dripping elbow into mine, with one eyebrow cocked. “Wanna go for round four?” he asks, voice low and teasing. I groan, despite the smile tugging at my lips.
“You’re trying to kill me," I say, looking up at him through my lashes. He flicks water at me, grinning. “Pfft. You love it,” he teases, drawing out each word and pushing my shoulder playfully. I scoff but don’t argue.
That was the thing with Maddox—half the time I wanted to strangle him, the other half I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
He was annoying and relentless, sure, but also intoxicating and addictive to be around.
He nudges me, laughing, and I shove back.
He shoves harder. We’re slipping on the wet tiles, bumping shoulders, laughing like idiots.
Out of nowhere he grabs my face, spins me slightly, and smashes a dramatic, rough kiss to my cheek with an exaggerated mwah sound.
It’s not tender, just Mads being his chaotic self, but my stomach flips anyway.
“Ugh, fuck off,” I mutter, pushing him back and wiping at my cheek.
And then I hear it, a well-meaning but spine-chilling remark.
“You two make such a cute couple,” a woman in a floppy sunhat says warmly, while a young boy clings to her side.
She’s giving Maddox a too-long look before smiling at me.
I freeze, heart stuttering, skin blanching as if all the blood is being drained from my body.
Did she really just say that? My stomach twists, and I feel my brain hit the emergency eject button.
Maddox, of course, doesn’t hesitate. He slings an arm around my shoulders in one smooth motion, pulling me back against his damp chest.
“Don’t we, though?” He declares, flashing his most charming grin, the one that always has girls swooning. His knuckles rub softly, almost absentmindedly, along my collarbone, causing my breathing to increase incrementally.
“How long’s it been now, baby? Twelv- no , thirteen years," he exclaims with a dazzling grin. His fingers make their way to my hair where he massages softly into my scalp. My eyelids flutter closed for one suspended heartbeat. My pulse is hammering, and the warmth of his body pressed into mine is burning hotter than the sun. And I… nope . I can’t.
I’m not doing this. No matter how good it feels.
I shove him off, muttering something unintelligible, and stalk away in a mental fog before he can see how flushed my cheeks are. The mother looks shocked and remorseful, probably thinking she caused some lovers' tiff, as I make a beeline for the bar, needing something— anything —to reset my brain.
“Oop, guess I’m in the doghouse now.” I distantly hear him tell the woman.
I can imagine the carefree way he laughs, but I can’t bring myself to look back.
That’s the way I should have reacted. That’s what a normal person would do in this situation.
So why couldn’t I? Why did I have to skulk off and make things awkward over a stupid misunderstanding?
My movements pick up until I’m sprinting along the stone carpet, to the waterside bar, ignoring the splashes from a small group of screaming kids and their sunbathing mothers.
Realistically, I should be grateful that the woman was so accepting of seeing a queer “couple” in public, and in front of her child no less.
Ugh. Couple. The word clings to my nervous system like wet fabric.
My knuckles flex as I grip the wooden bench top, leaning into it with my head slung low, water dripping down the ridges of my face from my still-damp hair.
I watch as a drop falls from the tip of my nose, hitting the floor with an inaudible splash.
The bartender catches my attention by tapping a hand on the bar, and gesturing to the beer on tap. My throat works over, swallowing nothing, trying and failing to force out a single word. My chin hitches up in recognition, and it takes an insurmountable effort just to raise two fingers .
Moments pass in a dissociative blur as I wait for my drinks to be poured.
They barely have a chance to rest on the bar before I knock the first back in one long pull.
My lungs suck in a deep, laboured breath as my fingers wrap around the second glass, Maddox’s laugh still echoing in my head.
My thoughts keep drifting back to the weight of his arm around me, the warmth of his kiss on my cheek, the blue of his eyes lighting up in the sunshine as he smiled down at me, and how impossibly infuriating he is.
A long-legged girl sidles up to the bar next to me. She looks like the typical vapid social media girls that are just here for the aesthetic pictures. The blonde, curvy type, wearing far too much makeup and not enough clothing for a family swimming ground.
She smiles at me, batting her lashes, clearly trying her luck.
She’s not dissuaded by my attempts to ignore her, and doesn’t seem to care that my body language is locked and guarded.
If anything, she treats it like a challenge.
She chats in my ear, tells me her name’s Camilla, and leans forward to trail her manicured fingernails up my arm as I finish the last of my drink and… ah, fuck it .
I pull her in for a quick, teasing kiss, letting the heat of Maddox and the waterpark chaos linger behind me. Her giggle is breathless, playful, but it didn’t do what I needed it to. Because underneath it all, I still felt the leaden weight of his arm heavy across my shoulders.
So I kiss her again, harder this time, like maybe I could scrub him out of my head with someone else’s lips.
Someone socially acceptable to want. Her body leans into mine, pushing her tongue into my mouth and moving her head around like we’re performing in some sad, low-grade porno.
I force myself to lean into the kiss further, trying to ignore the chill shooting straight down my spine, but it’s no use—my body recoils from her touch.
As I go to break off the kiss, her fingers slide into my hair, pulling mecloser and without permission, I’m picturing Maddox. It’s Maddox’s hands in my hair, Maddox’s tongue swirling inside my mouth, Maddox’s body pressed up against mine, and slowly my muscles turn languid beneath the touch.
I begin to enjoy the kisses, soft moans leaving my lips, a throbbing ache between my legs as my cock fills with need.
Then I realise what I’m doing and no, fuck , I’m not entertaining this depravity.
My hands find her shoulders and grip firmly as I shove her back to create space between us.
I stumble backwards a step, gasping for air and cursing myself, already wishing I hadn't acknowledged her presence.
When I look up, there's Maddox, leaning casually against a palm tree across the bar. That infuriating smirk stuck on his face. He mouths “ cute couple ”, tipping his chin toward the girl.
My jaw tightens, and I watch him push off in a casual stroll, holding a cigarette to his lips, leaving me caught somewhere between frustration, embarrassment, and something I’m definitely not ready to name.
“Fucking hell…” I mutter. My palms feel warm, fingers tingling. I lean on the ba r, fists clenched, caught between wanting to punch him, wanting to laugh, and not wanting to admit how much he’s gotten under my skin.
The girl, what was her name? Cassie? No, Car-Camilla, is yapping on about something I genuinely couldn’t give a shit about, pointing over to her group of friends that are all watching our encounter with glee.
I force a polite smile, trying to act like anything about this situation is okay, and yet my brain keeps flicking to Maddox, searching for his face amongst the crowd and not seeing any signs of him.
I signal the bartender for a refill, the condensation from the empty glass soaking my hand as I wave it above my head.
Next thing I know, Maddox is sliding up behind me, clapping me on the shoulder with that ridiculous smirk still in place. He directs his attention to Camilla, looking at her with a softness I know he doesn't actually possess.