Connor
I knock on Adrian’s door before I can talk myself out of it. My heart’s doing that stuttering thing it does when I’m nervous but won’t admit I’m nervous. I shove my hands in my pockets and wait, wondering if this is the stupidest thing I’ve done all week.
The thing is, Isla and Erin were perfectly nice.
Isla kept touching me and laughing at my jokes, and at some point it became clear she wanted to stay.
Erin gave me this look like she was asking if I wanted her to leave so Isla and I could be alone.
And I just couldn’t. I told them I was tired, training camp was kicking my ass, maybe we could hang out another time.
Isla looked disappointed but handled it gracefully, and they left.
Then I sat there in my room for maybe five minutes before I was out the door and heading down to the fourth floor.
I hear footsteps on the other side. The lock clicks, and the door swings open.
Adrian’s standing there in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt, his hair pushed back like he’s been running his hands through it. His eyes go wide when he sees me.
“Connor.” He glances past me into the hallway. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong. I just…” I rock back on my heels. “I sent Isla and Erin back to their hotel.”
His eyebrows lift and he steps aside, holding the door open. “I see. Come in.”
I walk past him into the room. It’s as neat as I remember. His shoes are lined up by the door, his jacket folded over the back of the chair. The bed is made, though the covers look rumpled on one side like he was lying on top of them.
The door clicks shut behind me, and I turn around. Adrian’s watching me with that unreadable expression he always has, the one that makes me want to do something stupid just to get a reaction.
“Do you need anything?” he asks.
The question is polite, casual, like I’m a guest who stopped by for a completely normal reason. Like it’s not almost midnight and I didn’t just ditch two women to come here.
“No, I just…” I trail off, feeling idiotic. What am I doing here? I don’t have a good answer for that. “I wanted to hang out.”
One corner of Adrian’s mouth lifts. Not quite a smile, but close. “To hang out?”
“Yeah.” I cross my arms over my chest. “If that’s okay.”
He tilts his head, studying me, and that almost-smile becomes more pronounced. “So let me get this straight. You had two gorgeous women in your room. And you sent them away and came here to hang out?”
Heat crawls up the back of my neck. “Well, it sounds weird when you say it like that.”
“How else would I say it?”
“I don’t know. Less weird.” I rub my face with both hands. “Look, if you want me to leave—”
“Don’t leave.”
The words stop me cold. His tone has shifted, gone serious and low, and when I drop my hands, he’s closer than he was a second ago. Not crowding me, but close enough that I can see the darker ring around his irises, the faint stubble along his jaw.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
The tightness inside me eases. “Yeah?”
“Yes.” He holds my gaze, steady and sure, and I can’t look away. “What do you want to do?”
The question hangs between us. The truth is, I don’t know why I came here instead of staying in my room, or what I expected to happen. All I know is that sitting in my room alone felt wrong, and the idea of being here with Adrian felt right.
But I can’t say that. Can’t put words to this strange pull I’ve been feeling all week, the way my attention keeps drifting to him during practice, how that morning in his room keeps replaying in my head when I’m trying to sleep.
So I don’t answer. I just stand there like an idiot, my pulse loud in my ears.
Adrian steps closer. “Connor. What do you want?”
His voice is softer now, and he reaches up to cup my jaw with one hand. His palm is warm against my skin, his thumb swiping gently across my cheekbone. His touch is so careful it undoes me.
I lean into it without thinking. A long breath escapes me, tension draining from my shoulders. His thumb moves to my bottom lip, tracing the curve of it, and before I can stop myself, I kiss it.
Just a press of my lips against the pad of his thumb. Barely anything.
Adrian’s pupils dilate, black swallowing the dark brown of his eyes.
“You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?”
I huff out a laugh, trying to break the intensity of the moment. “That’s not the word people usually use to describe me.”
“What do they use?”
“Funny, mostly. Easygoing. Sometimes a pain in the ass.”
Adrian laughs, low and surprised, like I pulled it out of him, and I want to make him do it again. Our faces are inches apart now. I can feel his breath against my mouth.
“You are a pain in the ass.” His hand is still on my jaw, thumb still resting on my bottom lip. “But you’re also selfless. Kind. You make people around you feel comfortable.”
He pauses, his gaze dropping to my mouth before lifting again.
“And I don’t think you know how special you are.”
Then he leans in and kisses me.
For a second, my brain just… stops. Goes completely blank. His soft lips are on mine, and there’s stubble scratching against my chin and jaw. It’s strange. Different from kissing a girl, and the stubble is definitely weird.
But underneath the strangeness, it fits. Like a lock turning, a door I didn’t know was closed swinging open.
I kiss him back.
The second I do, Adrian groans into my mouth, and his arms come up to wrap around me, pulling me in close. One hand slides into my hair, cradling the back of my head, and the other presses flat against my lower back.
I’m surrounded by him. His body against mine, his mouth moving over mine, unhurried, his hands holding me as if he’s afraid I’ll pull away. The stubble I thought would be weird feels good now, a pleasant burn that grounds me in the moment.
My hands find his waist, fisting in his T-shirt, and I pull him closer. He makes another sound, something between a groan and a sigh, and kisses me deeper. His tongue sweeps across my bottom lip, asking permission, and I open for him without hesitation.
The kiss turns hotter, messier. His tongue slides against mine and I shiver, heat pooling low in my belly. I’ve kissed plenty of people before. I’m not inexperienced. But this feels different. More intense. Like every nerve ending in my body has woken up and decided to pay attention.
Adrian’s hand tightens in my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my head back, and he kisses me like he’s trying to memorize the taste of me, like he’s been thinking about this as much as I have, even if I wasn’t ready to admit it.
I’m hard. The realization hits me in the middle of the kiss, my cock straining against my jeans. I’m kissing a man and I’m turned on and none of this makes sense, but I don’t care. I just want more.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Adrian’s forehead rests against mine, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Connor,” he says, my name barely more than a whisper.
I don’t say anything. I just kissed Adrian Vega, and the panic I keep waiting for doesn’t come.
There’s a lot I don’t have figured out, and maybe I won’t for a while: why I really came here instead of staying with Isla, what happens when we walk out of this room. But none of that feels as urgent as the question neither of us has said out loud yet.
I’m pressed against him, hard against his hip, waiting for him to ask it.