He sells connections. Affection. Lust with a polished bow.
But when I remember how he looked at us, how he touched us, it didn’t feel like a performance.
And that’s the part that’s screwing with me.
Worse? It’s not just him.
It’s Xavier, too.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still want him. That some part of me wasn’t still hopeful that maybe, somehow,Icould be the one he changes for. Maybe the walls he built aren’t permanent, and if I wait long enough, he’ll finally tear them down.
But I know better.
I’m staring down at my phone like it’s going to text itself when the break room door opens, and in walks Xavier.
Of course.
He looks… tired. Eyes shadowed, the kind of worn that comes from too many nights without sleep. His glasses sit crooked on his nose, a slight fog clouding the lenses, as though he hasn’t had the energy to adjust them. Maybe he’s been thinking about the same things I have.
He doesn’t say anything at first, just grabs a water from the fridge and sits beside me.
The silence stretches.
Then, out of nowhere, he says, “What are we gonna do?”
I blink. “About?”
He gives me a look. “Scout.”
That makes my stomach tighten. I clear my throat. “What about him?”
“I know that look, Kendrix. You like him. I’m guessing… like me… you haven’t stopped thinking about that night.”
I want to deny it. Laugh it off. Play it cool.
But I can’t.
“Maybe,” I say.
Xavier exhales and leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Well, I haven’t stopped either. And you got to be inside him.”
That hits hard. Too direct. But he’s always been blunt.
“I can only assume it’s worse for you,” he adds. “But I keep thinking about it. Wondering… was it real? Is he just that good? Or…”
He trails off.
I finish it for him. “Or maybe it meant something.”
He nods once. “Exactly.”
I watch him, waiting for the joke. The brush-off. The Xavier I know who doesn’t do real feelings.
But he doesn’t laugh.
“What are you saying?”
He looks at me. “I’m saying maybe the three of us have something.”