Page 108 of Hard to Judge

“After the fight with Phillip.”

Arlo’s free hand lifts to his head and rubs the spot where the rock split his skin.

“Your father doesn’t know the meaning of character,” he snarls.

“Agreed.”

“He didn’t know you at all.” His hand leaves his hair and grips my forearm. He pulls me so our sides touch as we walk along. “Not at all.”

“It’s okay.” I let my free hand graze the back of his hand that clings to my forearm. “I got by just fine without him.”

Arlo’s lips rumple, and his jaw goes tight. A deep breath hisses through his nose and exhales as smoke. “You slept on the goddamn street, Hota.”

I smooth my fingers over his tense jaw. “And that street was a Four Seasons compared to where you slept many years ago.”

“It’s not a contest.” He huffs.

“Good, because you’d win, and I really hate to lose.”

His eyes roll. The gesture makes him look younger and more carefree. A look I hardly ever saw on him when he was indeed younger.

“Now, where are we going?” I jut my chin up the street. “This is a date. I am easy. If you expect me to put out, I’m going to need more than a dollar slice.”

“A dollar fifty, now. Can you believe it?” Arlo, the billionaire, scoffs.

“Inflation,” I agree with his mock outrage.

We walk the next few blocks in silence, save for the thrum of traffic and the beat of my frantic heart.

“Here we are.” Arlo holds open the door to an indoor climbing gym and ushers me inside.

The clerk at the front, of course, knows who he is and has everything ready for us. He had our athletic clothes dropped off before we arrived, and we’re ushered into a private changing area with lockers, showers, and the whole nine yards.

Nostalgia knocks the breath from my lungs.

Even though this place is a fuck ton more updated than Willoughby Ridge ever dreamed, it’s still a small locker room, and Arlo and I are in here together. I’m reminded of a particular fantasy I had all those years ago.

“Don’t even think about it.” Arlo points at my bag on the long bench and rounds to the other side, putting plenty of distance between us.

“What?” I spread my hands wide, like I have no idea what he means. All the while, I let my gaze gobble up every inch of skin he reveals. The elegantly carved V pointing to the promised land. The small whirl of his belly button. The many dips and plateaus of his abdomen.

“Stop that.” He covers his chest with his discarded shirt.

I shuck my jacket and lick the lips he’s been staring at all night, leaving them wet. “Stop what?”

His gaze turns hot and slides down my body as I peel the sweater from my body, giving him a peek of my torso that looks almost as fine as his.

He blinks and shakes his head. “We have a private lesson with one of their rock-climbing experts in five minutes.”

“And I have a fantasy of us kissing and doing a tandem tug in the locker room shower.” I shove off my pants and socks. “Have had for decades actually.” Straightening in my boxer briefs and tattoos only, I let my swollen dick draw him in.

His Adam’s apple bobs. “Decades?”

“Yes.” I adjust my length, letting it peek out the top of my underwear.

“Fuck.” The word hisses through his teeth.

“Remember when you used to watch my practices?” I tilt my head.

---