Page 99 of Built To Perform

And if they heard something after that roughhousing, well, everyone knew that tent walls were thin. I could deal with their teasing in the morning.

Epilogue

“I should shower again. I have time to shower again, right?”

I shared a glance with Clay, whose expression suggested he was trying just as intently as I was to avoid laughing, smiling, or showing even the barest hint of amusement. Apparently we’d both independently concluded that Adam was in no fit state for jokes right now. In fact my roommate seemed to be on the verge of either an aneurism or a coronary.

Then again, getting ready for a date with Brayden was probably enough to make anyone nervous.

Not just that, of course - I thought my teammate was a catch, but I’d also admit to some bias on the topic - but Adam’s first date with a guy, period. Sometimes I had to stop and remind myself that while he could come across as confident, and opinionated, and generally brave as all hell, Adam was still navigating just as many new experiences as I was. On that basis, mild panic about hair, clothes, and possible body odor seemed pretty impressive compared to my train station meltdown.

“You don’t need to shower again,” I told him, trying to make my voice as reassuring as possible. Only to jerk back in surprise as he thrust his bare armpit in my face.

“Be honest!” The demand came out as a yelp.

Sighing, I carefully took hold of his arm and eased it down. It was like pulling on an iron bar.

“You smell just fine,” I said, firmly - because he did - “and if you have another shower you’ll need to dry your hair again. And you don’t have time for that.”

Adam’s jaw worked, like he was considering arguing not just with me but with the concept of time itself.

“You think I’m being ridiculous,” he said, finally. Fixing me with an I-dare-you-to-argue stare.

I squeezed his arm, then released it.

“Not at all. I just think you look good, and you only smell of, um, good smells.” I frowned. Jefferson and Carlos made these sort of pep talks seem so easy; hell, even Brayden could be reassuring, though his well-meaning advice tended to be more blunt. I turned to Clay for support. “Right?”

He’d been watching Adam’s semi-frantic preparations from the bed, his ever-present sketchpad eventually forgotten as it became clear my roommate was on a trajectory to utter madness. Now, he nodded earnestly.

“Pick a shirt, okay?”

Adam grimaced, though he couldn’t really argue with Clay’s suggestion. The angry sounds of hangers clattering and colliding made it clear any compliance with something so sensible was grudging, mind.

“I should just cancel,” he muttered.

“You don’t want to go?”

He glanced at me over his shoulder. Expression complicated.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. Just that...”

I waited a moment, to see if an ending to the sentence would be forthcoming. Apparently not.

“Just that you’re scared, and overwhelmed, and it feels like a big deal and maybe like this is a dangerous person to do something for the first time with?”

It didn’t feel exactly disloyal to frame my teammate like that. Brayden had a lot of excellent qualities - some of which handily overlapped with some of Adam’s more prevalent kinks - but he was not obvious “date night” material. It was an assessment I knew he’d be the first to agree with.

“I should’ve just asked for something simple,” Adam grumbled. “Like another threesome.”

Clay chuckled. “Tell me that story again?”

I shot him a look, one which suggested now was not the best time for such reminiscing.

“Look, you’re going to get something to eat, you might go for a walk together after that.” I frowned; my own experience with dating wasn’t exactly any richer than Adam’s or Brayden’s had been. “And that’s it, I guess.”

Adam’s eyebrow raised. “You don’t think he’ll expect me to put out, because he bought me dinner?”

I snorted. “Who would dare assume you’re that sort of boy?”