9. The Dangerous Ex #2
And there he was. Sitting now. Elbows resting on his knees, body relaxed, like he had nowhere else to be.
And when our eyes met—he didn’t look away. He just leaned back slightly… and spread his legs. Then, his hand moved, gently caressing his crotch.
Slow. Casual. Intentional.
Like an invitation he didn’t need to say out loud.
My grip tightened around the racket.
Stop! I said to my hardening… life.
I looked away immediately, trying to focus on the game again.
But I missed an easy shot.
“James!” Mel groaned.
“Sorry,” I muttered, eyeing Kyle again who wasn’t taking his stare off me and his hand off his crotch.
My mind suddenly wasn’t on the game anymore. Because even from across the court—I could feel it.
That pull.
That familiar, dangerous pull I knew better than to follow.
And somehow, avoiding only made it worse.
Sunday brunch felt less like a meal and more like an event you had to dress correctly for.
From the outside, the café named Clubhaus looked like it belonged in a magazine spread.
A clean, low-lying structure wrapped in bold green, with its name stamped unapologetically across the facade—CLUBHAUS—like it already knew people were coming for it.
The color alone made it stand out against everything else on the street.
Intentional. Confident. The kind of place that didn’t need neon signs or gimmicks because the aesthetic was the statement.
Inside, it was a different kind of luxury.
Sunlight filtered through textured glass blocks, breaking into soft patterns that moved across the floor like the room itself was breathing.
Everything felt curated but not crowded—clean beige walls, muted greens, warm wood tones, and furniture that looked simple, until you realized every piece was chosen on purpose.
Tables sat low and rounded, chairs in deep earthy hues, and plants were placed like they belonged.
It was the kind of place where your coffee order felt like an accessory, where your outfit suddenly mattered a little more, and where sitting down felt less like resting and more like being part of the scene.
Because in Southside, even something as simple as brunch had to look this good.
“Why are people still soft launching like it’s a personality trait?” Andi asked, sipping her coffee, eyes on her phone.
Across the table, Andre leaned back in his chair, brow slightly furrowed. “Soft launching?” he asked. “What does that even mean?”
Honey gasped like he’d committed a crime. “Oh my God! Straight men don’t know anything!”
“I know enough,” Andre said calmly. “I just don’t know whatever that is.”
“It means,” Andi said, turning her phone toward him, “you post the guy—or the girl—but not the whole of them. Like just their hand, shoulder, shadow, existence. But never the face.”
Andre stared at the screen like a sixty-year-old with twelve grandkids. “That’s… weird.”
“It’s branding, darling,” Honey corrected. “You give people just enough to be curious, but not enough to ask questions. I love a good soft launch. Nothing but a hand, a watch, and emotional instability.”
Mel didn’t even look amused. “Or maybe,” she said, cutting into her waffle, “they’re just not ready to show the person yet.”
“And why not?” Andi shot back. “If you’re dating someone, just show them.”
Andre shrugged. “Or maybe they’re not dating.”
“Situationship,” all of them said in unison.
Then they turned to me.
“Guys,” I warned.
They looked away, barely holding in their laughs.
“That’s the point of soft launches,” Honey continued. “It’s not real so you can’t present it as real.”
I scoffed, taking a sip of my hot choco.
Andi swiped through her phone again. “Look at this,” she said. “Full story dump—coffee, legs, table, vibes—but the guy is cropped out like he’s a secret agent.”
Andre leaned forward slightly, squinting. “That’s intentional?”
“Very,” Andi said.
Honey smirked. “That’s not a boyfriend. That’s a situationship with good filter.”
I choked.
Mel tried not to smile. “You guys are so negative. Can’t we give them the benefit of the doubt?”
“And you’re in denial,” Honey shot back.
Andre leaned back again, arms crossing loosely. “Honestly,” he said, “if you can’t show the person, there’s probably a reason.”
That landed.
Victor never posted me.
Never even soft-launched me.
I didn’t know which was worse: being half-announced like something temporary, or not announced at all, like I didn’t exist.
Andi glanced at Andre. “Oh, the straight guy’s now wise?”
“I’m just saying,” he shrugged. “If something’s real, you don’t have to hide it.”
Mel stopped, as though she had a eureka moment. “What if they’re hiding because the other is in a relationship with someone else?”
Plot twist, that was.
Silence settled for half a second.
I didn’t say anything—but I felt it.
“So,” Andi started, setting her cup down. “Speaking of men who don’t like being fully seen…”
She looked at me.
“Your favorite ex is back.”
I rolled my eyes, leaning back in my chair like I was physically exhausted by the topic.
“Why is it always me?” I muttered. “Like, there are five people at this table. Why are we discussing my love life again?”
“Because you’re the most chaotic, darling,” Honey said instantly. Then she leaned forward, eyes lighting up. “Now—spill the tea.”
I sighed.
“He’s been texting me,” I admitted.
Four heads snapped toward me.
“Oh?” Andre said, suddenly interested.
“Constantly,” I added. “Good morning. Good night. Random ‘what are you doing?’ in the middle of the day. Or ‘do you wanna jack off together?’ It’s… a lot.”
Honey gasped. “Oh, he’s pursuing you again.”
“He’s annoying me,” I corrected quickly.
“Same thing,” she said.
I rolled my eyes again, but I could feel it—that tiny, traitorous part of me that didn’t entirely hate Kyle and his motives.
Because the truth was, I liked it.
The persistence.
The attention.
The fact that Kyle was the one trying.
Was I proud of it? No. But it did something to me.
“I keep saying no,” I continued, shrugging like it didn’t matter. “He wants to go out. I keep shutting it down.”
“And yet,” Mel said slowly, narrowing her eyes at me, “you haven’t blocked him.”
I glared at her.
“That’s not the point!” I said defensively.
“That is exactly the point,” Honey chimed in.
I exhaled, dragging a hand down my face.
“I just—” I started, then stopped, trying to find the right words. “I can’t forget what happened between us.”
That shifted the energy slightly.
Mel looked up at me properly this time.
“You remember him cheating on me, right?” I said, more plainly now. “Multiple times.”
Silence.
“That I kept forgiving him,” I went on. “Over and over again. Making excuses. Thinking maybe this time he’d change. Or are we forgetting ancient texts now?”
I let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
“He didn’t change, by the way,” I added. “Just to remind you.”
No one interrupted.
“I was the one who walked away in the end,” I said. “And yeah, it hurt. Of course it did. But…” I shrugged. “It didn’t destroy me.”
“Because you knew it wasn’t your fault,” Andre said.
I nodded. “Exactly.”
That was the difference.
With Kyle, I knew what I was dealing with. He messed up—repeatedly—and that was the clear reason why it ended. Clear and undeniable.
But with Victor… it wasn’t like that. There was no label. No real beginning. No official ending. And somehow, that made it worse. Because I didn’t even know what I was grieving. Just that it had wrecked me in a way Kyle never did.
And I hated that.
I hated that something so undefined could leave me such damage.
But I didn’t voice it aloud.
And still, Andi responded as though she had read my mind.
“Okay,” she said. “So let me get this straight.”
I already didn’t like her tone.
“You have one ex who cheated on you, yes, but is now actively chasing you, and clearly wants to have another chance—”
“Don’t say it like that,” I muttered.
“And another man,” she continued, ignoring me, “who couldn’t even commit to you in the first place, and somehow you blame yourself for the situationship that ended, and somehow that’s the one you’re loyal to?”
I opened my mouth—and then closed it.
Honey leaned in, resting her chin on her hand. “When you say it like that—”
“It sounds like you’re holding on to the wrong thing,” Andre finished.
I groaned. “Not you too, Andre!”
“I’m just saying,” he added. “You already know how the Kyle story ends. At least this time, you’re not walking blind.”
“That’s exactly why I shouldn’t go,” I argued. “I know what he’s like.”
“And you also know what you’re like with him,” Honey said. “Which means you’re not as powerless as you think.
I stared at her.
“That’s suspiciously wise,” I said.
“I have layers,” she replied, shaking her tits proudly.
Andi leaned forward again. “Go out with him.”
“No.”
“Friendly date.”
“No.”
“For the plot?” Andre added, sounding a little unsure.
Everyone turned to him, surprised by the modern language he used.
Mel blinked, looking amused. “Look at you old man!”
“Fuck all of you,” Andre said, shaking his head. “Focus on James, please?”
“My life’s a bad idea,” I said.
“Probably,” Andre agreed.
“Definitely,” Mel added.
“Wow guys?” I said flatly. “Great support system.”
Honey smiled. “But your life is also a fun one.”
I hated all of them.
I sat there for a moment, staring at my half-eaten tuna sandwich, already knowing I was losing this argument. Because the worst part? I was curious too. And curiosity had always been my downfall.
I exhaled slowly.
“… Fine,” I said.
Andi lit up. “Yes!”
“But if this goes badly,” I added quickly, pointing at all of them, “I’m blaming every single one of you.”
“Worth it,” Honey said.
“Just,” Mel interjected.
We all turned to her.
She was hesitant for a second, before fixing her eyes on me—serious now.
“Please don’t have sex with Kyle.”
A beat.
Nobody laughed.
For the first time, Mel sounded genuinely worried.
“I won’t,” I said confidently.
A complete lie.
I shook my head, already regretting it.
Because deep down I knew exactly what I was walking back into.
And I was going anyway.