Page 100 of Built To Perform

He grinned back at my joke, then pulled a shirt from the closet. “This one?”

“Perfect,” I declared, just like I’d have said regardless of what he decided on.

“Do you know where he’s taking you?” Clay asked, while Adam worked on the buttons.

“No. Probably somewhere there’s vanishingly little chance of us being seen together. Wouldn’t want his reputation to suffer.”

“Hey.” My sharp tone had them both looking over, Adam’s fingers pausing. “He’s lucky to go out on a date with you, don’t forget that. And I know he can be brash, but he’s not an asshole.”

For a moment it looked like Adam might argue. Then his shoulders sank, as though the nerves and tension suddenly deflated.

“I know he’s not. And I’m excited, I really am. It’s just...”

This time, I didn’t bother waiting to see if there was a conclusion coming.

“Scary. I know. I bet Brayden’s feeling nervous too, even if he’d never admit it.” The idea made me smile.

“I guess we can always share Eoin stories, if other topics of conversation run dry.”

Clay laughed. “Ask him what happened in Jefferson’s tent.”

My glare didn’t seem to make a bit of difference to his amusement.

“Anyway,” I said, hoping my emphasis made it clear the topic was changing. “What time are you meeting him?”

Adam glanced at his watch. “In about fifteen minutes. I told him to just wait outside.”

I was still mid-nod when the knock on the door jerked all three of us.

Had Brayden agonized over what to wear, like Adam had spent the last half-hour doing? If that was the case, the deliberations had all been worth it.

I had to assume Brayden’s tailor buddy had been involved in making the black jeans fit his legs so well, not to mention the white shirt accommodate his broad shoulders without a scrap of excess fabric around his stomach. I’d spent enough times staring miserably at myself in the mirror, swimming in outsized clothes - because the bigger sizes were the only ones that’d fit my wrestling-honed shape - to recognize the magic of a good cut.

The fact that Brayden paired it with half the buttons unfastened to bare his chest - and a grin that implied the status of the rest was definitely up for negotiation - probably explained Adam’s mute goggling.

“Hey.”

Brayden made no hiding of his attention, in how he looked my roommate up and down.

“H-hey.” Adam’s attempt to rally came with a whole-body shiver. “I told you to... you said you’d wait downstairs for me.”

A shrug. “I was early.” Brayden glanced over his shoulder. “Are you ready now, or should I come in and wait?”

From my seat I could only see Adam’s face in profile, but that was enough to watch the thoughts and possibilities process. Eventually - and a little grudgingly, perhaps - he stood to the side.

“Come in, then.”

I caught a glimpse of curious stares out in the corridor before the door swung shut.

“Hey, lil bro,” Brayden said, amiably. “Hey, Clay. You both here for moral support?”

Adam snorted. “I don’t need moral support.”

Brayden’s raised eyebrow suggested the spluttering protest had somewhat undermined how believable it was, but he was wise enough not to mention it.

“You look good,” I told him, keen to move the conversation on. Plus he really did.

The smirk I got in return was positively wicked. Then again, Brayden’s reputation on the team for his bed-hopping was only inaccurate in that an actual bed wasn’t mandatory.