HOLDEN
Declan’s voice cuts through the room like a siren, making my blood pressure spike.
I’ve got one hand on the wall, fingers curled over a hold I’ve used a hundred times, and I still managed to miss the next one by half an inch.
“Dammit.”
My foot slips. I catch myself before I drop, but it’s sloppy.
“Seriously, dude. What is with you tonight?” Declan calls.
I shouldn’t be this distracted. It’s embarrassing, honestly. I’m never like this.
Glancing down, I see Declan in the middle of the padded floor, arms crossed and looking up at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.
“It’s like you’re just flirting with the wall instead of climbing it,” he says.
“Fuck off. I’m climbing just fine,” I shoot back.
“Could’ve fooled me.” He exchanges a look with his husband.
“What happened to our coach?” Seth taunts.
I readjust my grip, biceps straining. “Oh, you want to play that way, do you? You wanna come up here and show me how it’s done then, genius?”
Declan guffaws. “Gladly.”
Pushing up, I reach again—this time slower and more deliberate. I grip the hold cleanly, and I take a moment to rest my arms. My muscles settle into the movement, familiar and automatic, but my head’s still not in it. It hasn’t been all afternoon.
Which is the problem.
While my attention should be on my next move, instead it’s on the front door, fifty feet below. Focus, dumbass.
I pull myself up another level, then another, finishing the route with less grace than usual. I heave a breath as I climb onto the ledge, and take a second before dropping down to the mat.
Cole eyes me warily from the edge of the floor. “Declan’s right. You’re off tonight.”
“I’m fine.”
“No. You’re distracted.”
“I said I’m fine.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You missed a hold on a route you set. I’ve seen you scale that wall dozens of times, Holden.”
“I slipped. That’s all.”
“You slipped,” he repeats, deadpan. “Sure. You trying to end up in my office?”
I ignore him and grab my chalk bag, dusting my hands like that’ll fix whatever the hell is going on in my head. Cole is right, of course. I’m playing a dangerous game climbing when my head isn’t in it. The last thing I need is to end up in the medic room with a busted ankle or fractured wrist.
“You gonna climb or just critique me all night?”
“Oh, I’m definitely climbing,” he says, already stepping toward the wall. “I just like making sure my friends aren’t cracking their heads open first.”
I roll my eyes, stepping back to give Cole space.
When Cole heard I was staying after my shift to climb, he clocked out to join me, saying he needed it too. I think he just needed the company, but whatever. I’m still glad he’s here.
Cole adjusts his harness, then steps up to the wall, moving with less grace than some of my younger climbers. But he’s improving fast. That’s the thing about Cole. He constantly strives to be better. It won’t be long before he’s tackling the harder routes.
I watch him for a second, then drag a hand through my hair, exhaling hard.
Fifteen minutes…
Grabbing a water bottle, I take a long drink. Korie will be coming through those doors in less than fifteen minutes. Every second closer makes the damn twisty feeling in my belly intensify.
It makes no sense.
We’ve been friends forever. Literally forever. I know their coffee order, their worst habits, the exact face they make when they’re about to say something sarcastic. I know which pizza place they go to when they’re tired, and know the way they shut down when people push too hard.
I know them.
And somehow, everything I know about them is… shifting a little. Like one fake date was enough to reclassify all of our memories.
Before, it was just… us. Hanging out. Talking. Existing in the same space without thinking about it.
Now?
Now I’m thinking about all the nights we sat close or lost track of time, wondering why I never questioned it.
I’m aware of Korie in a way that feels dangerous. Fragile, almost. Like something I could screw up if I’m not careful. I rarely make it to the second date with anyone, and here I am hoping to make it to a second fake date with Korie.
But why am I suddenly aware? That’s the thing.
What’s so different that could make me reexamine all of our time together?
I thought I was imagining it, but after running into them at the pizza parlor, I know I’m not.
Ten minutes together and I wanted more. I was drawn to them that day in a way I’ve never been before.
It’s ridiculous.
Or maybe it’s not. Maybe something is finally making sense.
Either way, it’s keeping me up at night.
Seth comes closer, his attention darting between his husband climbing the wall and me. I hadn’t expected my friends to show up tonight, but the moment they walked through the door, it was like… fresh air or something. It gave me an excuse to pull out my climbing gloves a little early.
“What’s going on with you?” Seth asks.
“Nothing.”
“Mm, no. You’re hiding something, and you’re not hiding it well.”
I sigh, glancing back at the wall. Do I have time to go again? I’m still unsettled.
“I’m fine, Seth,” I say softly. “Truly.”
Seth studies me. “Well, whatever. If you ever need a friend, you know where to find us.”
I tip my head at him, grateful for his friendship.
I catch Blaine’s attention before I head toward the wall. “I’m gonna run it again.”
The other man nods, gripping the rope to spot me. “Try not to fall this time.”
“No promises.”
I step up to the start, setting my hands and grounding myself in the familiar routine—test the hold, shift my weight, move. This time, I force myself to slow down.
I’m such a natural go-getter that my instinct is to go fast—to push harder, to reach farther, get to the top as quickly as possible. I like the challenge, the burn, the feeling of almost losing it and pulling through anyway.
But my slip earlier is proof: it’s also how you miss things.
Taking it slow, I move up one colored hold at a time, deliberately calculating each motion before acting on it. The strain in my muscles is noticeable. Borderline uncomfortable, but in a good way. It feels… different. Less flashy or something. More secure.
Forty feet up, I reach a point where I’d normally stretch for the next hold, just barely within reach if I extend enough.
But instead, I pause to gather my bearings.
If I adjust my footing, I can go for the hold on the other side, a good six inches closer to me.
It means at least three more steps before reaching my goal, but if it’s more stable, it’s worth it.
I try it. The transition is so much smoother than I expected that I almost second-guess myself. But it’s never about ease. It’s about safety. Or at least that’s what I tell my students.
Huh.
I guess I should listen to my own advice.
I finish the route without slipping this time, and Seth’s whoop of encouragement when I reach the ledge echoes loudly through the room. “Yeah, man! There you go.”
My heart is soaring as I drop down, landing with a soft thud onto the mat.
Seth claps me on the shoulder. “Much better. You looked great.”
“Thanks.”
“What changed?”
I shrug, grabbing my chalk again. “Slowed down.”
He nods once. “Thought so. You tend to overreach, but you were more calculated this time. Great job.”
“I do not—”
“Oh, you absolutely do,” he cuts in with a laugh. “You’ve called me out on it so many times I recognize it easily, and you do it all the time. See the end and go straight for it, skipping half the steps and then acting surprised when it doesn’t work.”
I open my mouth to argue, then stop.
Shit. He’s not wrong.
Overreaching and skipping steps. Sounds a little like my dating life, doesn’t it?
Why do you do that? Rush things.
There’s Korie again, slipping into my head without warning. But they’re right. I do rush things. Just look at how quickly I asked them on a second fake date. No timeline, no building up the moment. I just went for it, without even thinking about it.
I catch myself smiling, recalling how they’d looked that night, with the sun in their eyes, the gloss on their lips, the way they’d felt pressed against my side…
Shit.
Nope.
Not doing that here.
“Hey,” Seth says, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I nod once, firmer this time. “I’m good.”
He watches me for another second. “Alright. Here, you take over spotting Declan for me, then. I’m gonna go run that overhang route.” He grins over his shoulder as he walks away. “Try not to forget my husband while you’re there.”
“No promises.”
He laughs, heading off.
I stare up at the wall just as the creak of the front door reaches my ears. I look over and grin instantly.
They’re here.
Korie steps inside, glancing around like they’re orienting themselves, even though they’ve been here a hundred times. Habit, maybe? Or just taking it in.
They’re dressed in tight-fitting purple shorts and a loose white tank top.
I wait until they check in, then whistle to get Korie’s attention. “Hey. Kor! Over here.”
They walk over, smiling. “Hey.”
“You made it.”
Korie raises an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”
“I mean.” I shrug one shoulder. “It’s just good to see you, is all.” Really good. Fuck, why is my heart beating so fast?
Their hazel eyes, painted with soft shimmery eyeshadow, soften before they follow the lead up to see who I’m supposed to be spotting. “Is that Declan?”
“Yeah. Seth is here too, in the advanced section.”
Korie folds their arms as they watch.
I gesture to the pile of harnesses. “You remember how to put that on, or do I need to give you a full tutorial?”
They shove me. “Please. I climbed long before you worked here.”
“Yeah, but I’m the professional now,” I say, puffing my chest out dramatically.
“Uh-huh. Debatable.”
“Ouch.”
Pride flashes in Korie’s eyes. Then they snatch a harness from the pile and step into it, tightening it with practiced ease. I watch for a second before forcing myself to look away. Because yeah. I definitely should not be looking at my best friend’s ass like that.
My heart pounds again, palms slick against the rope.
“Why don’t you warm up while I finish up here? Then you can try to make me look bad when we climb together.” I throw in a wink for good measure, earning a laugh.
“There’s no try about it, Hold. I can outclimb you any day.” They glance up at the wall. “Alright, here I go.”
Korie is a thing of beauty when they climb—all precise moves and calculated risks. It’s kind of how they approach any challenge in their life, though. With careful thought and consideration.
Unlike me.
I just dive in with both feet.
Why do you do that? Rush things.
Declan finally returns to the ground, shaking his arms out and looking extremely proud of himself.
“Good job, man. Your technique’s improved so much.”
“Thanks.” He stays with me for a minute, catching his breath before undoing his harness and going to find Seth.
I turn my attention to Korie, cheering them on when they reach the twenty-foot platform.
A while later, we’re lined up and ready to go. Blaine is spotting me, Ellis is spotting Korie.
And just like that, we’re in our old rhythm—competing, climbing, pushing each other, just as we’ve always done. We move through a few routes, trading wins and calling each other out when the other cheats a move or skips a hold.
At one point, about forty feet up, I go for a reach I know is a stretch, and miss. My foot slips, and I drop down with a painful grunt. “Fuck.”
Korie laughs, bright and unfiltered. “Still overreaching, I see.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, grabbing chalk again. “Seth already called me out on the same thing.”
“Yeah, well. Maybe if you learned to pace yourself, you’d stop getting hurt.”
“I’m not hurt.”
“Aren’t you, though?” Korie throws me a smug grin over their shoulder. “Losing hurts.”
“Asshole.”
They laugh.
I shake my head, but I’m smiling too.
Dammit. Maybe my friends are onto something.
I glance up at the route again, then back at them. Korie is still watching me, head tilted slightly, as if they’re trying to figure something out.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“Just waiting to see if you’re accepting defeat.”
I drop my chalk bag, turning back to them. “Not on your life.”
Korie waits for me, studying me carefully. When I reach them, they’re smiling. “‘Bout time. I was about to take a nap.”
“Shut up.” I pinch their side, and they quickly bat my hand away, tipping their chin up. “First to the top buys the loser ice cream?”
I chuckle. “Sure.”
Korie wins, mostly because I just don’t have it in me anymore. Every move is strenuous.
My limbs are heavy as we undo our harnesses, and by the time we walk out, Korie is all smiles. I realize I am too. Not only for having time together, but for being able to work out my frustrations on the wall. I learned something about myself today, and that feels big.
Slinging a playful arm around Korie’s neck, I pull them close. They crash into me with a laugh, wrapping both arms around my waist.
“I believe you owe me ice cream,” I tease.
They snort. “Yeah, don’t think I’m not onto you, though.”
“What?”
“You went easy.”
“I did not!”
Korie rolls their eyes.
“I didn’t!”
“Oh, come on, Holden. I’ve seen you climb how many times? You’re never that slow.”
“Honestly, I didn’t. I’m exhausted. I already went a few times before you got there.”
“Ahh. That explains everything.”
When we get to their car, Korie turns to me. “I’ll get us ice cream, but…” Korie hesitates, jaw working like they’re chewing the inside of their cheek. “What do you say we go back to your place to hang out?”
The question shouldn’t make my stomach swoop the way it does.
I grin wide. “Deal.”