You crossed your arms. "You're lucky you family; if you weren't, I'd have locked yo beige ass out already."

"I'm not family," he replied, chuckling softly while racking the barbell. "Not by blood anyway."

That line made your pulse spike for a beat or two or three. He was right. His dad and your dad were best friends. You two would hang out a lot as kids, but your mom got full custody of you in eighth grade, so you didn’t see him as much after that. The fact that you two went to different high schools didn’t help either. Still, the unspoken tension between you two was getting harder and harder to ignore. At least on your part.

He turned and wiped the sweat from his jaw with the edge of his shirt, and the grin turned into something almost shy.

Almost.

You snatched a towel and tossed it in his direction. "You smell like sweat and stubbornness."

"And you love my sweat and stubbornness," he retorted, catching it easily with one hand.

The silence filled with the sound of his breathing—slow, heavy, and too loud in the near-empty space.

He was leaning on one of the benches, big hands braced, head tipped slightly forward; a droplet of sweat slid down his neck and disappeared below his collar.

You found yourself staring and turned quickly toward the hallway. "I’m lockin’ up."

“Gimme five, Y/N,” he said, voice still that deep roughness.

“Mannn,” you rolled your eyes again and kissed your teeth. “You said that shit forty-five minutes ago.”

"Maybe I say a lot of shit I don't mean."

Oop, you weren't touching that one with a ten-foot pole; that could mean anything. That was too loaded.

You huffed, faking annoyance, but the corner of your mouth curling upwards betrayed you.

You walked across the hall and turned up the thermostat for the sauna—your little sanctum, especially after a sixteen-hour shift. The steam system hissed faintly from the back corridor.

You loved to decompress in the sauna after hours for an hour or so. Especially after long-ass days like today. It was hard work owning a gym, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

You took off your t-shirt and gym shorts, leaving you only in a black two-piece bathing suit. Normally you’d go naked in just a towel, but since Cameron was still there, you decided to at least keep something on. You unsnapped your smartwatch and set it next to your phone and other belongings in the cubby.

Cameron casually sauntered up behind you, his short hair damp and a fresh shirt slung over his shoulder. His whole body glistened from residual sweat and the wet veiling of eucalyptus oil from the towel rack in the weight room.

“Damn, Y/N. You ever get tired of the sauna?”

“Damn, Cam.” You retorted, mockingly throwing your arms up. “You ever get tired of elevated goblet squats?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Damn, girl. You been comin’ for me all day.”

His laugh was so contagious you couldn’t help but let out a laugh of your own as you kicked off your shoes and socks. “Because you’ve been a pain in my ass since we were 11 years old!”

“Aight. Mind if I join you?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed deeply. “I just need one hour of quiet.”

“I can keep quiet.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. Come on, I guess.” And you shook your head, grabbing a towel off the rack.

He laughed again, low and effortless. The sound followed you as you pulled the door open; a surge of heat washed out, thick and aromatic. You could feel him behind you, still smirking as he quickly stripped down to his briefs and grabbed another towel himself, still too close.

“You really cool with me comin’ along?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you can behave or not.”

“Well, we’ll see,” he murmured.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the heat enveloped you both instantly. The steam unit began to hiss in the small cedar room, a steady exhale that seemed to make everything else silent.

You moved over to the control panel and tapped it down a few degrees; the numbers glowed orange through the haze.

"You sure you don't mind it this hot?" you asked, glancing back toward him.

"Two-a-days in August?" Cam let out a quiet snort. “Shit. This is a damn vacation."

You found a seat on the lower bench, towel tied around your hips, head back with your feet out. He sat down on the other bench, fists clasped around his knees, already beginning to glisten on his shoulders with sweat.

For a moment, neither one of you said anything. Just enjoying the sounds of slow breaths and the slow drip of condensation off the ceiling. The quietness between you felt familiar yet charged.

He was the first to break the silence.

“You still with that hoe-ass, septum-piercing-havin' ass nigga, Lorenz?”

It took everything in you not to laugh, so you quipped back. “You still with that self-hating, blue-eye-contact-wearin' ass hoe Katina?”

After staring at each other for a record-breaking four seconds, you both burst into laughter, leaning forward with your hands clutching your bellies.

“Man, you should’ve seen her when she switched to the green ones.”

You threw your head back, cackling.

“And that is why I used to close my eyes during missionary. I just couldn’t take that shit anymore,” he added.

“Nigga, shut up! My stomach hurts!”

He slapped his knee, still laughing.

Eventually, both of you composed yourselves, the air still buzzing with amusement.

You leaned back and sighed deeply. “But nah, I ain’t with him no more.”

“What happened?”

“He broke up with me last Christmas,” you said with a shrug. “Gave me some lame-ass excuse that I put more effort into this gym than I did into him…”

“Fuck that,” he shook his head. “His lame ass should’ve been proud of what you built. I know I am.”

You smiled softly at him, heart racing. “Thanks, Cam.”

He nodded back with a smile. “I’m not with Kat anymore either; she said I had more love for the game than her and dumped my ass four months ago via text message.”

You scoffed, shaking your finger, “If she knew you at all, she’d know you actually fuckin’ hate football.”

He didn’t agree or disagree. The heavy look he gave you said enough. You were one of the few people who saw through his father’s bullshit. Still, he wasn’t ready to admit the true reason he actually played, and you didn’t blame him.

After a few more seconds passed, he asked another question, changing the subject.

“How’s the gym been treatin’ you?”

“Good. I can’t complain, really. I hired a couple of new trainers. They'll be startin’ next week.”

“Still runnin’ those free Pilates classes?”

“Yup,” you nodded. “Every Monday and Wednesday. You could show up sometimes instead of comin’ in after hours like a ninja.”

He smiled. “But then I’d be missin’ out on all this peace and quiet.”

You rolled your eyes. “Mmhmm.”

The heat made everything slower and softer. He leaned back, stretched his legs out, the corners of his mouth twitched as if he was about to say something and decided better of it.

"What?" you asked.

"Nothing. Just... crazy seeing you again after all this time."

"You've been comin’ to my gym for months now."

"Yeah, but every now and then it still feels like we’re twelve, arguin’ over whose turn it was to feed that pregnant stray cat."

That got a delightful laugh out of you, bright, sudden, filling the shared space. You shifted to stretch your calf, and that's when he saw it.

"Ayo, hold up." He frowned. "What is that ink on your ankle?"

"What?" You grumbled, trying to hide it.

"That little shape—don't tell me that’s—" He leaned forward more, squinting through the steam. When you didn't say anything, he stood, crossing the short distance between the two benches. His hand found your shin before you thought to stop him, and he lifted it with ease, causing your towel to loosen up.

"No way." He breathed, pushing the towel at your ankle gently aside. "Is that... peanut butter?"

You winced, a little embarrassed. "I kept my promise."

A little over a decade ago, you both were preteens, promising each other that as soon as you turned eighteen, you’d get matching PB&J tattoos. He’d get the jelly half, and you’d get the peanut butter.

"You actually did it?"

"Five years ago."

He shook his head, a grin breaking through the disbelief. "You got the peanut butter and never told me."

"We lost touch after eighth grade..."

"Yeah, I know, but—damn, that was our thing. PB & J forever."

"I just assumed you forgot."

"Forgot?" He said, still holding your ankle like it was evidence, his thumb rubbing absent-mindedly in the beads of sweat. "I've been carryin' the sketch for the jelly part in my wallet since high school."

That admission sat between you two in the heat—sweat, steam, and a hundred unsaid memories wrapped around the two of you.

He finally looked up at you, eyes soft, wondering. "Guess we were always meant to finish what we started, huh?"

You smiled, heart tripping over itself. It was right at that moment when the air turned from nostalgia to something that felt heavier. The heater hissed, filling the quiet. Almost as if it was warning you of what was to come.

"Umm...you can let go of my leg now, Cam."

He raised an eyebrow and tightened his grip around your ankle. "What if I don't want to let go?"

You inhaled sharply, and your stomach jerked as if you were on an 80 foot rollercoaster drop. "Cam—“

"—And you don't want me to let go either."

You didn’t even have time to fix your lips to lie before he moved. With an athletic quickness, he snatched your towel and removed his own before he plopped back down on the bench, pulling you into his lap.

You could feel his erection through his briefs as you straddled him, your anxious hands resting on his pecs.

He looked up at you, sporting that small grin you couldn't resist, his palms now resting on your thighs. "Feel what you do to me?"

You failed to suppress your whimper. "Cameron, I think we should talk first before we—"

"We can talk later,” he dismissed calmly. “I'm ready for us both to finally find out how good I can stretch that pussy."

That last sentence was more than enough to ruin your restraint. You leaned down, crushing your lips to his in a long-awaited kiss. He cupped your face, deepening the kiss, while his free hand slid up to your waist, pulling you down against him into a slow grinding motion.

You’d imagined how your first kiss would be too many times to count. Still, your imagination didn’t have shit on reality.

You moaned softly as his tongue slipped past your lips, curling against yours. He grunted softly as you ground down harder, bikini bottoms no longer damp from just the steam and sweat.

He broke the kiss and leaned back, gaze never leaving yours as he freed himself. Your eyes flickered down, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you watched him stroke himself lazily.

“Hmm,” you hummed curiously. “I always wondered why you stopped wearin’ the jersey with the number eight. Got tired of advertisin’ what you was packin’ in them football pants, huh?”

He chuckled softly. “Shut yo ass up, Y/N.”

You giggled softly as you smacked his hand away, gripping the base of his dick and squeezing as you stroked up and down his length.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

His hand slithered between your thighs, long fingers finding your clit with ease. His thumb circled your clit slowly through your bathing suit, and your eyes fluttered closed, grip tightening as you stroked him faster.

“Uh-uh,” he admonished. “Let me see those pretty eyes.”

You opened them as soon as the command fell from his lips, brown eyes locking onto his again. He didn’t have to say a word. His eyes were loud enough. Warm hazel with teeny flecks of green that caught the light just right, like a secret only you were meant to unfold.

He free hand pulled your bottoms to the side as his thumb continued to make circles against your clit. His middle finger swiped up your slit, coating the digit before he slipped it inside you.

You gasped, “Cameron—“ jacked movements paused at the base of his length for a second or two as he inserted a second finger without warning.

“Mmhmm,” he smirked, curling his fingers to a deliberate angle before he set a skilled pace, hard and deep. “I gotta stretch you a little bit more, baby.”

You didn’t even bother responding. You just nodded and moaned louder.

“You got a condom?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek, but your sarcastic response escaped anyway. “Oh sure! I always bring a magnum into the sauna!”

He shook his head, smiling fondly up at you. “I walked right into that one, huh?”

“Just don’t cum inside me, and we should be good.” Your laugh trailed off into a high-pitched moan as he fingered you faster, adding pressure to the circles on your clit.

That tight coil in your belly started to unravel. Your hand movements slowed as you tried to warn him. “Cam—shit—wait a sec, baby. I’m gonna—“

“I’m not stoppin’ until you cum on my fingers,” he said. “Give it to me.”

He curled his fingers just a little more, the wet squelching sounds of his fingers stretching you filled the sauna, and before you knew it you were cumming. A small shout escaped your throat as he continued fingering you through your orgasm.

Eventually he slowed, fingers slipping out of you when you let out an overstimulated whimper. His gaze stayed locked onto you as he brought his fingers pushed into his mouth, sucking your wetness clean off, moaning loud as if it were the best thing that ever happened to his taste buds. 

You took two more deep breaths before asking as you pulled at the knot tied on the side of your bikini bottoms. “You want to put it in, or should I?”

“Uh-uh,” he smacked your hand away. “I want to do the honors.”

You couldn’t help but snort. He was just so damn goofy. Genuinely, one of your favorite things about him.

With a flick of his wrist, your bottoms were off and tossed to the floor. You lifted your hips slightly so he could push his underwear down past his knees, kicking them to the side once they fell to his ankles. You raised your arms and pulled your top off, hands coming back down to rest on his chest as he lined the tip of his dick with your entrance.

He pushed inside, and you inhaled sharply. You had to take a deep breath, reminding yourself to relax.

He grunted, one hand moving to your waist as the other helped push past your tight folds. “Goddamn, baby. Relax,” he groaned deeply. “Stop pushin’ a nigga out.”

“Stop splittin’ me open!” You retorted as you sank down further, ass seated against his thighs. “Big dick havin’ ass nigga,” you mumbled lowly.

“What was that?” He raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged, “I ain’t even say nothing.”

You rocked slowly until you opened up more, completely adjusting. You began to bounce, and he threw his head back. “I’mma tell you now. You got about ten minutes before I come. That pussy tight as fuck.”

You giggled. “I’m cool with that cause my knees got about eight minutes left before they give out.”

He chuckled loudly, cupping the back of your head and pulling you down into a kiss.

Your head felt light from the heat and exertion, but you weren’t going to let that stop you. You bounced harder even though you knew your knees were going to curse you; smooth the fuck out in the morning.

Oh, well.

You leaned back up, eyes fluttering closed as you tilted your head back. His large hands cupped your breasts, fingers teasing at your dark nipples.

“Goddamn,” he groaned. “You know how many times I imagined this?”

“I doubt as many times as me.”

“So pretty bouncin’ on this dick.” He praised, one hand dropping from your breast and sliding down your stomach to your wet pussy. He circled your clit hard and fast. “Give me another one.”

You whimpered as you felt another orgasm approaching, your body tingling all over. “Please don’t stop.”

“Cum for me again.” he inhaled sharply as he felt your walls squeeze his dick even tighter.

Your second climax surged through you like a lightning strike. You yelped, cumming harder than the first time.

“I can’t take it anymore.” He said as he gripped both sides of your hips, thrusting up into you like a madman as he chased his release.

“Fuuuck! Cam—” your breathy moans broke off into a choked sob, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he praised. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m ’bout to cum. Where you want it?”

“C—cum on my fa—face!” you managed to get out in between harsh pants. He let out a noise that sounded like a growl and whimper as he pounded into you a few more times before pulling out.

“On your knees.”

You hopped off him, dropping to the floor, sticking your tongue out as he stood above you, jacking his dick once, twice, before coming all over your face with loud curses and groans.

The warm come painted your cheeks, and a few drops landed on your tongue, so you swallowed, surprised that he didn’t taste as salty as you imagined. That high-protein diet he was on had you worried for a moment.

His dick was still hard as he stood there, panting harshly while he looked down at your come-covered face as if you hung the moon.

“How in the fuck are you still hard after that?” You asked, fingers scooping some of the cum off your cheek and licking it.

He laughed breathlessly. “I knew you’d match my freak.”

You blinked at him, still licking your fingers.

“Fuuuck. I can cum again—just like really fast,” he grunted softly as he began to stroke himself again. “Where do you want it this time, baby?”

“On my tits.” You smirked.

You counted each stroke. Once he got to eleven, he gasped sharply, reopes of white coating your nipples as he spilled all over your chest. Not as much as the first time, but enough to make you a mess.

He dropped to his knees, crawling closer to you, analyzing all the evidence he left on you. He cupped your face, rubbing his come into your chin.

You laughed, “If you fuck up my skincare, I will sue yo ass into a new millennium.”

He threw his head back and laughed loud as hell.

Eventually he stood up, pulling you with him. “Let’s hit the showers.”

“Give me a sec. My legs clocked out five minutes ago.”

He scooped you up, carrying you out of the steamy room and down the back hallway to the showers as if you weighed nothing. Your legs were out of commission. It had been over a year since you last had sex, let alone rode a dick. Your legs were sore as if you just finished 100 reps of Bulgarian split squats.

20 minutes later you were both clean, come and sweat-free. You just stood under the spray, hugging each other.

You finally had the courage to say to him what you’d been wanting to for a long time.

“Your father,” you started, voice soft but sure as you looked up into his eyes. “You need to tell him that football is not where your heart is and it never has been.”

He huffed out a short laugh, looking down at you, his jaw tense now. "Yeah, right. You know he ain’t exactly the listenin' type."

“I don’t care,” you said, your tone sharpening. “Make him hear you. It’s time for Cameron Cade to walk in his own shoes.”

That landed. The defensive edge in his posture eased; shoulders relaxed, jaw unclenched.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds and sighed deeply, considering your words. When he opened them, his eyes were glassy with determination. “You always did talk to me like I was worth a damn,” he acknowledged.

“You know, when you asked me to help you clean your room, I didn’t think I would be the only one cleaning.” You tossed an old Black Sabbath t-shirt at Eddie who was sitting on his bed flipping through a magazine.

Your complaint went unheard as Eddie grabbed another magazine and skimmed the pages, “I completely forgot that had some of this stuff,” he picked up a dusty Judas Priest cassette tape, “oh my god! I’ve been looking for this!”

“Well, maybe if you cleaned your room from time to time, you wouldn’t lose your precious tapes. Now, can you please get your ass up and help?”

“Fine,” Eddie dramatically rolled off his bed, “we’re doing this for twenty minutes and then taking a break.”

“Alight.”

Eddie began working on his closet, going through a mountain of clothes that had built up over the past month or so. You had found it earlier and refused to touch it even though he assured you it was all clean clothes. You had been working on his dresser, going through each drawer and organizing, folding, throwing away random pieces of trash you would come across. You’d finally made it to the top of the dresser; the entire thing was covered with various knickknacks and of course trash.

As you threw an empty soda can into the trash bag, a small wooden box caught your eye. You’d never seen it before, though that didn’t surprise you since you were pretty sure you’d never seen the surface of Eddie’s dresser in the decade that you’d known him.

Curiosity got the better of you; you put the trash bag down and opened the box. Inside were some pictures, some of the two of you, one of him and his mom which brought a sad smile to your face. There were some old rings of his that probably didn’t fit anymore, a couple of old concert tickets, and something else. You picked up the mystery item, staring at it for a minute. It was nothing special, just a piece of string with some plastic beads, but it looked familiar. A memory from elementary school rushed into your head. It was a necklace; you made it for Eddie for his birthday back in second grade, his first birthday after the two of you had become friends. You could recall how much he’d liked it; he wore it for almost a month straight until your teacher, Ms. Marllon, had threatened to take it since Eddie kept playing with it instead of doing his classwork. After that, you never really saw it again, and you had always figured he had lost it or down the road had thrown it away.

“You kept this?” Your words were soft, if Eddie hadn’t been right by you, he wouldn’t have heard you.

“What?” he looked at the necklace in your hand, a nervous and embarrassed laugh fell from his lips once he realized what you were holding, “Oh, yeah, I-I did.”

“I can’t believe you kept it all this time.” Your smile was mostly teasing, but there was a hint of fondness to it as well.

He shrugged, “Yeah, well, it means a lot to me.”

A light chuckle escaped through your nose, “A piece of string with a few plastic beads on it means a lot to you?”

He cast his eyes down, pulling at a loose thread on his shirt, “I know, it’s stupid.”

You regretted your words the second you looked over and saw the slightly hurt expression on Eddie’s face, “I’m sorry, you have every right to keep whatever you want, no matter how silly it may seem to me.”

“It’s just…” Eddie took the necklace from you and sat down on the edge of his bed, running his fingers absent mindedly along the beads, “as you know, I was never Mr. Popular. I didn’t really have any friends before you…this was the first gift I ever got from a friend,” you sat down next to him, placing a comforting hand to his shoulder, “and yeah, in hindsight, this isn’t the most impressive gift in the world—”

“Hey!” You said with mock offense.

He rolled his eyes and continued, “But it meant a lot to me then, still does actually.”

You felt your chest tighten and the sting of tears in your eyes, but you pushed through it, choosing to cover up the feelings with a joke, “You know, I could make you a matching bracelet for your birthday this year, or maybe a ring set.”

“Nah, with such expensive, couture jewelry, I wouldn’t be able to walk around town without getting robbed blind.”

You grabbed one of the pillows on his bed and hit him with it playfully, “You’re such a goof.”

“Yeah, but that’s what you like most about me.” He smiled and wrapped his arm around you.

You leaned against his shoulder and smiled too, “Yeah, it is.”