Page 34 of The Boss

Chris flashed that cheeky smile of his at me. “More like a challenge.”

I shook my head, chuckling. Chris plucked a fry off my plate, completely unbothered, like my lunch was just an extension of his own. I should have been annoyed, but instead, I only laughed under my breath. And that was the thing. With Chantelle, last night had felt like a performance—hitting the right beats, saying the right things, playing the role I was supposed to play. But here, now, with Chris? It felt easy, natural. I wasn’t trying. I wasn’tacting.I was just… me.

I wasn’t sure what to do with that.

15. Chris

I needed to get Zac out of my system,fast.

Even after things went back to normal—after his apology, after lunch, after everything—I knew we couldn’t keep going like we had before. Sure, I kept sucking his cock. But I needed some distance, some perspective, something to remind myself of the rules of our deal, of the boundaries that come with having a crush on a straight man. Because every time he smirked at me, every time he leaned a little too close or let his hand linger on my shoulder, every time he looked at me like I was the only person in the room, I felt myself slipping further into something I had no business feeling. And I knew, with a kind of bleak certainty, that if I didn’t do something about it soon, I was going to fall so deep I wouldn’t be able to climb back out.

So I did something about it.

It was Saturday night, and I had options. Darren had been chasing me for months, but even though he was cute and made it clear he wasveryavailable, I wasn’t exactly eager to go down the road of fucking someone I worked with again. Instead, I did what any self-respecting horny and emotionally compromised gay man would do. I downloaded Grindr.

It didn’t take long.

The guy—Tim? Tom? Something with a T—was cute enough. Decent face, toned body, nice ass, knew exactly what to say to push the right buttons. We traded some flirty messages, which quickly turned into straight-up sexting, and within an hour, he was asking me to meet him at the park.

My fingers twitched, indecisive. It wasn’t like I’d never hooked up with a dude in a public place, but this late at night? In an unfamiliar city? Yet I was restless. Wound too tight.Desperate for something—someone—to distract me from the gnawing hunger I refused to name. So I said yes.

* * *

Roger Williams Park was quiet when I got there, the air damp with the lingering chill of late November. The trees stood skeletal against the inky sky, their bare branches shifting in the breeze like bony fingers.I pulled my beanie lower over my ears, hugged my jacket tighter around me as I followed the path, checking my phone. The Grindr sound alert pierced the dark stillness, too loud in the otherwise silent night.

‘Wait by the bushes off the trail. I’ll be there in a minute.’

Yeah, okay, maybe that should have been my first red flag. The kind of text that, in the moment, seemed fine. In hindsight? Dumb as hell. I was thinking with my dick, not my brain, so I stepped off the paved path, moving toward the shadowy tree line.

I was expecting one guy.

Two showed up.

Neither one was the guy from the photo. And I knew the second I saw them that I’d fucked up.

“Hey there, lover boy,” the bigger one said, stepping closer. The other one flanked me on the right, his body angled just enough to cut off an easy escape. They moved like they’d done this before. “You got any cash?”

My stomach turned. Shit. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy,” I said carefully, shifting my weight, keeping my stance loose. My pulse spiked, but I kept my voice steady. If I provoked them, this could turn into something really bad.

The smaller one—slim, tattooed, early twenties maybe—let out a low laugh. “Nah, man. We got the right guy.” He pulled something from his jacket, flipping it open. A knife. Not huge,but enough. The streetlamp overhead caught the blade, a thin gleam of silver slicing through the dark. “Wallet. Phone. Now.”

My fingers clenched around my phone in my pocket. I could give them my wallet. Fuck, I’d have to give them my wallet. But my phone? My fuckingphone? Not a chance. I tossed my wallet toward them, the leather landing with a soft thud in the dirt.

“Phone,” the tall one repeated.

“No.”

The knife glinted under the lamplight as the smaller guy stepped closer. “Oh, don’t be like that. You don’t want me to mess up that pretty face, do you?”

The moment stretched tight. The wind stirred through the branches, the distant hum of traffic barely reaching past the trees. My breath fogged in the cold air. They hadn’t worn masks, I realized then. They hadn’t cared that I saw their faces. Which meant they hadn’t planned on letting me go, even if I gave them what they wanted.

I did the only thing I could think of. I threw my phone—hard—right at the guy with the knife. He flinched, instinctively dodging it, and in that split second, I turned, punched the other guy square in the jaw, and ran. I ran like my fucking life depended on it. Because it probably did.

Footsteps pounded behind me. Voices shouting. My heart slammed against my ribs. But I was fast—faster than them. The path opened ahead, leading toward the main road, toward streetlights and people and safety. My lungs burned, my pulse thundered in my ears, but I didn’t slow down.

Then, out of nowhere, flashing red and blue lights cut through the trees. A cop car.

I nearly slammed into it.

---