Chapter 1

It all happened way too fast. My landlord knocked at 8 a.m. sharp, holding a letter and wearing that weird fake-sympathy look people make when they’re about to screw you over. His daughter was moving back in, he said. A bad breakup. He needed the room.

I had to be out by that night. No warning. No plan. Just a bag, a panic sweat, and a list of contacts I barely had the guts to message. I had only just moved to this city three weeks ago. I barely knew anyone.

Except Brad.

He was the only person I could think of. A guy I knew back in high school; older by a year, total jock, cocky smile, gym rat. We hadn’t talked a ton after graduation, but I’d seen him pop up on my Instagram a few times flexing or lifting or shirtless on a beach. I remembered him being surprisingly chill when I came out, too. No weird energy. Just some dumb jokes and a wink.

So I sent him a Hail Mary text, not expecting much.

He responded in under a minute. “Bro. Crash here. I got space. Pull up anytime.”

That’s how I ended up standing in front of his apartment with a duffel bag slung over my shoulder and absolutely nowhere else to go.

Brad opened the door in joggers and a t-shirt, barefoot, hair messy like he’d just rolled off the couch. “Damn,” he said, pulling me into a one-armed bro hug. “You really got booted that fast?”

I nodded. “It’s been a day.”

“Then you definitely need a place with sick vibes and better protein powder.” He smirked and stepped back. “Come in.”

The place was ... well, not what I expected. The living room didn’t have a couch. Or a table. Or anything, really. Just gym mats on the floor, dumbbells, a bench press, a pull-up bar in the doorway, and a full-length mirror with a ring light in front of it.

“You live in a gym now?” I asked.

“Basically,” he said proudly. “If I’m home, I’m working out.”

He waved me toward the hallway.

“Your setup’s in here.”

Brad’s bedroom was huge. Bigger than my old studio, honestly. A full-size bed, blackout curtains, fan in the corner. A little messy but not gross. The mattress I was supposed to crash on was rolled up under his bed.

“Should fit perfect right there,” he said, pointing to the open space beside his bed. “It’s comfy once you blow it up.”

“Cool,” I said, crouching to pull it out. “Where’s the pump?”

Brad paused.

Then scratched his head. “Shit ... I think I left it in my car. Or maybe I loaned it to my friend at the gym.”

I looked up at him. “So...?”

He shrugged. “You can just blow it up. You got lungs, right?”

I gave him a look.

He laughed. “Come on, Cody. You’ve blown harder things, I’m aware.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a dumbass.”

“Yup.” He grinned and flexed, totally unserious. “Anyway. I was about to do a quick ab burner before bed. Twenty minutes tops. You get that air mattress going,.”

“Guess I don’t have a choice.”

He smirked again. “Make yourself at home.”