Part 05

The automatic doors of the parking garage slid open and the wall of humid city air slapped them like a wet towel. It was past eleven, the flight from Punta Cana had landed almost an hour late, and both of them looked like they’d been baked under Caribbean sun for a week: skin golden, noses peeling, hair salty and wild.

Jessica stepped out first, stretching her neck with a tired groan that sounded half moan, half growl. She had on the same clothes from the plane: super tiny faded denim shorts sitting really low, so the top of her white lace thong showed a little. Her thin white crop top was a bit see-through from sweat. No bra, she had laughed at the gate: “No way I’m putting a bra back on till Monday.” The plane had been freezing, so her nipples stayed hard the whole flight. Now, under the garage lights, they poked against the wet cotton like they wanted attention. Her belly was flat and tanned, with a light line from her bikini pointing down under the shorts. Her flip-flops slapped on the floor, tanned feet with fresh pink nail polish looking cute even when she was tired.

Jim followed, wrestling three huge suitcases and two carry-ons and his shirt plastered to his back. He dug frantically in his pockets as they reached the building entrance. “ ... Shit. Shit, Jess, the apartment keys. I left them in the rental’s cup-holder.” Jessica stopped dead, one hand on her hip, the motion tugging the crop top higher and flashing the soft under-curve of one breast. “Are you kidding me right now, babe?” Her voice was soft, almost maternal, the same tone she used when he forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer. “We’ve been traveling for nine hours and you lock us out?”

Before Jim could stammer another apology, the lobby door opened and Brian stepped through.

Fresh from the gym, his gray tank was soaked with sweat and stuck to his chest and abs like a second skin. The wet fabric had gone see-through over his pecs, showing every line of muscle. Veins popped on his thick biceps, his skin shiny and pumped. His basketball shorts sat low on his hips, letting that deep V show right above the waistband. He smelled like cedar, hard work, and warm guy skin.

His eyes flicked from Jim’s red face to Jessica’s barely-covered body and back again, easy smile spreading. “Hey, welcome home! ... Everything okay?”

Jim started babbling immediately, words tumbling over each other. “I ... yeah, just forgot the keys in the rental, it’s literally fifteen minutes away, I’ll run...”

Jessica let out the slowest, most theatrical sigh, shifting her weight so one hip cocked, the frayed hem of her shorts riding even higher on her ass. “Jim, sweetie,” she said in that calm, patient tone that always made him feel eight years old, “you do remember I’ve had three mimosas and about a gallon of airplane water, right? I’m about to pee myself in this lobby.” She didn’t even look at him while she spoke; her eyes were already on Brian.

Brian’s smile widened, relaxed, confident, like nothing in the world could ever rattle him. “Easy fix,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Come wait at my apartment. AC’s blasting, bathroom’s clean, and I’ve got cold beer in the fridge.” He tilted his head toward the elevator, utterly unfazed.

Jessica’s whole posture changed in a heartbeat. The eye-rolling wife disappeared. Shoulders dropped, lips parted, she lit up like someone had flipped a switch. “Seriously? You’re a lifesaver!” she breathed, and it came out grateful, almost reverent. She took one step toward him, flip-flops slapping softly, nipples brushing the inside of her crop top with the movement. “I owe you big time.”

Jim opened his mouth again. “I can be back in...”

Jessica cut him off without turning around, already walking toward the elevator, ponytail swinging. “Babe. Go get the keys. I’ll be fine.” It wasn’t a request.

Brian didn’t wait. He simply reached over and lifted the two biggest suitcases out of Jim’s hands as if they were grocery bags. “I got these,” he said, casual, fingers curling easily around both handles. The muscles in his forearms flexed, veins popping under tanned skin. “No point you killing yourself twice.”

Jessica glanced back just long enough to flash Jim a tiny, sympathetic smile, like a mom watching her kid head to the principal’s office, then turned her full attention to Brian again. “God, thank you. My husband tries so hard, but sometimes...” She let the sentence hang, laughing softly, and Brian laughed with her, deep and easy.

Jim stood there holding the smallest carry-on and a duty-free bag, watching Brian carry the heavy load with zero effort while Jessica fell into step beside him, barefoot soles padding across the lobby tile, hips swaying, already asking Brian about the gym he clearly just left.

Jessica never looked back again. She lifted one hand in a lazy little wave toward Jim, fingers wiggling, eyes fixed on Brian. “Text me when you’re close, okay, babe?” Then she was gone, walking between the two men like it was the most natural thing in the world, except Brian was carrying ninety percent of their luggage and Jim trailed behind clutching a plastic bag of rum and sunscreen.

Brian moved like he owned the building. Long, relaxed strides, suitcases rolling smooth behind him, biceps flexing every time the wheels hit a seam in the tile. Jessica matched his pace perfectly, head tilted up toward him, laughing at something he said too low for Jim to catch. The crop top had ridden so high now that the bottom half of her ribcage flashed with every step, skin still glowing from Punta Cana sun.

Jim’s stomach twisted. He watched Brian’s wide shoulders block most of his view of his own wife. Watched Jessica’s bare feet padding along next to Brian’s huge sneakers. Watched the way she kept brushing an imaginary hair behind her ear just so she could angle her body a little closer to him.

“Lead the way, neighbor,” she said, voice bright and playful, the same tone she used on the plane when the flight attendant upgraded them. “I’m dying for that cold beer.”

Brian chuckled, hit the elevator button with his elbow. “10B’s basically a resort compared to airport terminals. You’ll survive.”

The doors slid open. Brian stepped in first, suitcases effortless. Jessica followed, turning just long enough to blow Jim a tiny kiss over her shoulder, more reflex than affection, then faced front again, leaning casually against the Brian’s apartment door. Her nipples were still rock-hard under the thin fabric; Jim could see them clearly from ten feet away.