Chapter 2

Recap: Cody gets kicked out of his apartment with zero notice and ends up crashing with Brad, a jock from high school who now lives in what’s basically a home gym. Brad’s casual, shirtless, and flirty in that way that feels like a joke ... but maybe isn’t. Cody tries to play it cool, but between blowing up a mattress on the floor and watching Brad walk around half-naked, it’s getting real hard to pretend this is just a normal sleepover.

Brad stood in the doorway, water still dripping from his hair, towel hanging way too low on his hips, smirking like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Dude,” he said, cocking his head at me. “Are you seriously drooling right now?”

I opened my mouth to respond, maybe deny it, maybe make some dumb excuse but then, without a care in the world, he untucked the towel from his waist and let it fall to the floor.

Just like that. Like it was the most casual thing on earth.

I swallowed so hard it felt like my throat locked up.

He wasn’t naked, thankfully or not thankfully, depending on how you looked at it. He had on a pair of tight, black boxer-briefs that hugged every inch of his thighs and package like they were sprayed on. His dick clearly had room to grow, and the outline left very little to the imagination. He turned slightly, grabbing his phone off the dresser, and I saw the way his ass shifted, jiggled, flexed.

My cock twitched instantly.

Brad glanced at me over his shoulder. “I sleep in my underwear,” he said casually. “If you drool on the floor again, you’re cleaning it up.”

He didn’t even wait for a reaction. He just started walking around the room, checking his phone, sipping from a protein shaker, totally unfazed. He bent to plug his charger into the outlet by the bed, and his ass popped up so high I had to pretend I was busy on my phone just to survive. I flicked through TikToks, pretending to be fully engaged while my eyes betrayed me every five seconds.

I peeked again. His cock bounced slightly when he moved. He really was packing. Like, a lot. I shifted on the half-inflated mattress, trying to adjust myself without looking like I was adjusting myself.

What the hell was I doing? Was this a mistake? Moving in with Brad; the same Brad who apparently walked around in skin-tight underwear without a second thought? Who looked like he belonged on the cover of Men’s Health? Who was straight? And chill about me being gay? And just ... shirtless. All the time, apparently.

Because right before he climbed into bed, he turned to me and said, “Oh, heads up. I’m usually shirtless. Like, 90% of the time. Hope that’s not a problem.”

I blinked. “Yeah, cool. No problem.”

It was a problem.

I lay back down, heart still racing, and pulled my hoodie over my lap just in case. Brad turned off the lamp on his nightstand, the room dimming to a faint blue glow from outside. The bed creaked when he flopped into it. I didn’t dare look over.