Page 50 of Unrivaled

Max laughed, because otherwise he’d start thinking about how Grady had saidit’s no big dealtwice, like repeating it could make Max believe it. Itwasa big deal. So far they’d only hooked up, and only when they were both getting something out of it. This was Grady going out of his way for Max the same day Max casually used sex with him against him in a game.

It was better for Max’s sanity if he didn’t think about that.

“All right,” he said. “Thanks.”

GRADY DIDN’Tknow what possessed him to offer to drive Max home. He just did it, and they got there, and Max said, “Hey, so… want a thank-you handy?”

… Okay, so maybe hedidknow.

Grady was too tired and full of forbidden foods to enjoy anything more vigorous. He ended up on his back in Max’s bed with Max braced above him, Max’s hands on their cocks and one of Grady’s in Max’s hair. He could smell the shampoo he’d bought, and the strands were soft and smooth around his fingers.

In the morning he woke up blinking at Max’s bedroom ceiling, still sticky. When he turned his head, he saw Max passed out on his face, Larry the Lobster on full display. Grady had left a halo of fingertip-shaped bruises around it.

Oops.

He helped himself to Max’s shower to wash away their indiscretions. By the time he emerged, Max was downstairs making breakfast.

Gru greeted Grady at the bottom of the stairs, prancing in a circle and wagging his tail. Grady devoted a few minutes to stroking his soft fur and then joined Max in the kitchen and washed his hands.

Max looked up from an enormous skillet of scrambled eggs. “Hungry?”

So Grady was getting fed now too? Max must really feel shitty about yesterday’s game. “Yeah, thanks. You want help?”

“Sure. Can you do the smoothies? They’re basically premade, only have to stick ’em in the blender. Bottom drawer of the freezer.”

Grady’s kitchen skills were up to a lot more than smoothies, but in the two seconds Grady had spent looking over Max’s shoulder, he hadn’t found anything to fault, so he figured the eggs were taken care of. The blender was already on the counter, and the toaster held six slices of whole-grain bread, ready to be toasted.

Grady pushed the bread down and peeked over Max’s shoulder again when the smoothies were blended. “You put sour cream in the eggs?” he asked in surprise when he saw the container on the counter.

Max snorted. “What am I, a heathen? Obviously.”

“Well, you also obviously use store-bought eggs, so I thought it was a fair question.” Grady snooped around for the butter dish. Or was Max a margarine guy?

“By the toaster,” Max said, and Grady found the dish right as the toast popped. “Also, what the hell, where else would I get eggs? I’m not keeping my own chickens. Hedgie and El live next door. They’d kill me.” He added a glop of sour cream to the eggs. “Or are you some kind of egg thief? Is it the buying part you object to? Do you drive around the wilds of Pennsylvania slinking into chicken coops?”

Grady rolled his eyes. “I buy eggs from thefarm, idiot.”

“God, of course you do, you insufferable organic-food hipster.” Max laughed. Grady didn’t take it personally. If Max wanted to eat inferior eggs, that was on him. “Can you get the plates? These are done. Cupboard beside the sink.”

Max had practice at ten, so they sniped lazily at each other as they ate and Max fed Gru his egg-covered bread crusts.

“You’re spoiling him,” Grady commented.

“Buddy, that ship sailed a while back.”

With breakfast and coffee taken care of, Grady’s blood sugar went up and a hint of surreality slipped in. He couldn’t actually be sitting in Max Lockhart’s kitchen, eating food he made. Casually noting that they had the same taste in expensive cookware. Rubbing the belly fur of his very cute dog.

Had he slipped into another dimension?

He was about to pinch himself to check when a godawful noise set his teeth on edge. “Oh Jesus, what the fuck?”

“Dishwasher.” Max patted the countertop above the offending appliance, which wailed like an injured pterodactyl. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

“Like a car accident?” Grady had to raise his voice to be heard. Now that he was looking at it, the dishwasher did look kind of dinged up. “Did you go to the draft together?” It was probably old enough.

“All right, so most of what we’ve been through is the dishwasher running twice to get the dishes clean.”

The offending machine hit a new decibel level.

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