Chapter 1: The Weight Room Confession
The weight room smelled like sweat and ambition. Steel clanged against steel in a rhythm that had become the soundtrack to Kenzie's senior year. She gripped the barbell, knuckles white, and hauled it off the rack with a grunt that tore through her chest.
Four plates on each side. Two hundred and twenty-five pounds. Her personal best.
She locked out her hips, stood tall for a breath, then let the bar crash back to the platform. The echo rattled the mirrors. Her hamstrings screamed. Her lower back throbbed with that good kind of pain—the kind that meant she'd done something worth doing.
"Shit," she breathed, bending over to brace her hands on her knees.
Sweat dripped from her ponytail onto the rubber mat. The ceiling fan above did nothing but circulate hot air. Late August in Texas meant the gym was basically a sauna with free weights.
She straightened up, grabbed her water bottle, and froze.
Jason stood across the room by the squat rack, a towel draped over his shoulder, watching her.
Not the casual glance he usually threw her way when they passed in the hall. Not the quick nod he gave her at parties before he got swallowed by whatever group of guys wanted to talk about Friday's game. This was different. His jaw was set. His eyes were steady. Unreadable.
Kenzie's stomach did something stupid and gymnastic.
She turned away, busied herself with stripping the plates off the bar. The clang of iron against iron gave her something to focus on besides the fact that he was walking toward her now. She could feel it. That specific gravity he carried, the way the room seemed to shift when he moved through it.
"Hey."
His voice was low, measured. She hated how much she loved the sound of it.
"Hey yourself." She didn't look up. Just kept pulling plates, stacking them on the rack with more force than necessary.
"You've been avoiding me."
Straight to it. No preamble. That wasn't like him. Jason usually eased into conversations like he eased into everything—slow, easy, no rush.
Kenzie finally looked at him. He was close now. Close enough that she could smell the faint hint of his pre-workout drink mixed with clean sweat. His dark hair was damp at the temples. His gray t-shirt clung to his chest in a way that made her brain short-circuit for half a second.
"I haven't been avoiding you," she said.
"Bullshit."
She blinked. Jason didn't curse. Not really. He was the kind of guy who said "damn" when he stubbed his toe and felt guilty about it afterward.
"Okay," she said slowly. "Maybe I've been...busy."
"Busy." He crossed his arms. The movement pulled his shirt tight across his shoulders, and Kenzie forced herself to keep her eyes on his face. "You missed my game on Friday. You didn't come to Justin's party Saturday. You've been training at six in the morning instead of after school. You switched your lunch period."
Her jaw tightened. "You noticed all that?"
"Of course I noticed." His voice cracked just slightly on the last word. "You're my best friend, Kenzie. Or you were. I don't know what the hell happened."
Best friend.
The words landed like a punch to the sternum. She'd heard him say it a hundred times before, to a hundred different people. This is Kenzie, my best friend. Kenzie and I go way back. Kenzie's like a sister to me.
Like a sister.
She grabbed her towel off the bench and wiped her face, buying time. The mirror behind Jason reflected both of them—her, flushed and flustered, him, broad and confused. They looked like they belonged in different stories.
"Nothing happened," she said. "I just needed some space."
"Space from me?"
"Yes." The word came out sharper than she intended. "Space from you, Jason. Space from watching you flirt with every girl in school while I stand there like an idiot holding your water bottle."
He recoiled like she'd slapped him. "What are you talking about?"
She laughed. It wasn't a nice sound. "God, you really don't see it, do you? You're so busy being everyone's golden boy that you can't even tell when someone's been in love with you for years."
The words hung in the air between them.
In love with you.
For years.
Kenzie's heart hammered against her ribs. She'd imagined telling him a thousand times—in a thousand different ways, in a thousand different places. None of them involved a sweaty weight room and the taste of regret in her mouth.
Jason stared at her. His arms had dropped to his sides. His expression shifted through about six different emotions in the span of three seconds. Confusion. Disbelief. Something that might have been hope.
"Kenzie..."
"Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't say anything. I didn't mean to—I wasn't going to—" She grabbed her gym bag off the floor. "Forget it. Forget I said anything."
She tried to push past him, but he caught her wrist.
His grip was gentle. Firm. His thumb pressed against the pulse point in her wrist, and she knew he could feel how fast her heart was beating.
"Wait," he said.
She waited.
He didn't let go. His eyes searched her face like he was seeing her for the first time. Maybe he was. Maybe she'd been invisible to him all these years, just another fixture in his life, as ordinary and unremarkable as the trophies on his shelf.
"How long?" he asked.
"What?"
"How long have you—" He swallowed. "How long?"
Kenzie's throat tightened. "Since eighth grade. Since you sat with me at lunch after I struck out in the championship game and told me I was still the best player you'd ever seen."
Jason's grip on her wrist loosened. Not enough to let go. Just enough to soften.
"I remember that day," he said quietly. "You were crying. You never cry."
"I was thirteen. That was different."
"You cried, and I didn't know what to do, so I just sat there. And you ate half my sandwich and told me my breath smelled like onions."
Kenzie almost smiled. Almost.
"I didn't know," he said.
"I know you didn't know. That's the whole problem."
She pulled her wrist free. This time, he let her go.
"I have to go," she said.
"Kenzie—"
"Jason, please." Her voice broke on his name. "I can't do this right now. I can't stand here and watch you try to figure out what to say to make this less awkward. I've spent five years being your friend and pretending that was enough. It's not enough anymore."
She walked toward the door. Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else. The weight room blurred around her—the mirrors, the racks, the chalk dust floating in the fluorescent light.
"Kenzie, wait."
She didn't stop.
"Kenzie. Stop."
She stopped.
She didn't turn around. Couldn't. If she looked at him now, she'd fall apart. She'd cry in front of him like she was thirteen again, and he'd give her that same look, part pity, part helplessness, and she'd rather die.
"Let me—" His voice was closer now. He'd followed her. Of course he had. Jason never let anything go without trying to fix it. "Just give me a second. Okay? Just...let me catch up."
She heard him move behind her. Felt the heat of his body as he stepped close.
"I don't know what to say," he admitted. "I'm not good at this. I'm not good with words and feelings and all that. You know that. But I—"
He stopped.
She waited.
"I don't want you to leave."
"That's not enough," she whispered.
"I know." His breath was warm against the back of her neck. When had he gotten so close? "I know it's not enough. But I need you to know that I don't want you to leave. Not like this. Not without—"
"Without what?"
"Without giving me a chance to figure out what I'm feeling."
Kenzie turned.
He was right there. Inches away. Close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. Close enough that she could count the beads of sweat on his forehead.
"You need time to figure out what you're feeling?" she repeated.
"I'm sorry, I know that sounds—"
"It sounds exactly like what it is." Her voice was cold now. Steady. "You're scared. You don't want to lose your friend. You don't want things to change. But here's the thing, Jason—I've been changing for years. I've been turning myself inside out trying to be what you needed while you ran around living your life without me. You don't get to ask for more time. I already gave you five years."
His face crumpled. Actually crumbled. She'd never seen that expression on him before—like she'd reached into his chest and squeezed something vital.
"I didn't know," he said again. His voice was hoarse. "I swear to God, Kenzie, I didn't know."
"You didn't want to know. There's a difference."
He reached for her. His hand landed on her shoulder, then slid up to cup her jaw. She didn't pull away. Couldn't.
"You're right," he said. "I didn't want to know. Because if I knew, then I'd have to deal with it. And dealing with it meant I had to figure out how I felt, and I didn't...I didn't know how to do that. I still don't."
Kenzie swallowed hard. "So what are you saying?"
He leaned in. Slow. Tentative. Like he was afraid she'd bolt.
And then his lips touched hers.
It was soft. Nearly chaste. But it sent a bolt of electricity straight through her spine. Her entire body woke up. The kiss tasted like salt and sweetness and everything she'd been missing.
He pulled back far too soon.
"That's what I'm saying," he breathed. "I have no idea what I'm doing. But I know I don't want to stop."
Kenzie stared at him. Her heart was a drum solo in her chest. Her knees felt like they might give out.
"That's not an answer," she said.
"I know."
"That's not good enough."
"I know."
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back in.
This time, the kiss wasn't tentative. She kissed him like she'd been starving for years—because she had. She kissed him with all the want she'd buried, all the nights she'd lain awake staring at her phone wishing he'd text her, all the moments she'd been invisible while he looked right through her.
He kissed her back. His hands found her waist, pulled her closer. He groaned against her mouth when she bit his bottom lip.
"Kenzie," he said, between kisses. Like a question. Like a prayer.
"Shut up," she said.
He shut up.
The weight room hummed around them—the buzz of the lights, the dripping condensation from the water fountain, the distant echo of a radio playing through the front desk speakers. But Kenzie heard none of it. She was drowning in Jason. In the way he tasted. The way he held her. The way his fingers flexed against her hips like he was terrified she'd disappear.
When they finally broke apart, both gasping, he pressed his forehead to hers.
"I don't know what happens next," he said.
"Neither do I."
"That's terrifying."
"Yeah." She smiled. Actually smiled. The first real smile she'd felt in weeks. "It really is."
He laughed. That low, easy laugh she'd loved since eighth grade. The one that made her believe, against all evidence, that everything was going to be okay.
"So," he said. "Does this mean you'll stop avoiding me?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
Kenzie stepped back. She grabbed her gym bag and slung it over her shoulder. Her legs still felt shaky. Her lips still tingled. But she wasn't running anymore.
"On whether or not you're brave enough to walk out of this gym and actually talk to me about it," she said. "No more games. No more pretending you don't see me. If you want me, Jason, you have to show up. Every day. Not just when it's convenient."
He nodded slowly. His expression was serious, but there was something else there too—something steady and deliberate. Something that looked almost like resolve.
"Okay," he said. "I can do that."
"Can you?"
"I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair. "But I want to try."
Kenzie's heart skipped a beat.
"That's all I needed to hear," she said.
She turned and walked out of the weight room. The door swung shut behind her.
Jason stood alone in the silence, staring at the spot where she'd been. His lips still tasted like her. His chest still felt hollowed out and full at the same time. He had no idea how they'd get from point A to point B. He had no idea what he was supposed to say to her next, or how to make sense of the fact that his best friend had been in love with him for years and he'd been too blind to see it.
But he knew one thing, with more certainty than he'd ever known anything:
He wasn't going to let her go again.
But he knew one thing, with more certainty than he'd ever known anything:
He wasn't going to let her go again.
He caught up to her in the parking lot. The August heat hit him like a wall, but he barely felt it. His legs moved on their own, closing the distance between them before she could reach her car.
"Kenzie."
She stopped walking but didn't turn around. Her shoulders were rigid, her spine straight as a barbell. The setting sun painted her in gold and shadow.
"I said everything I needed to say," she told him.
"I know." He stepped closer. "I heard you. Every word."
"Then what are you doing?"
He didn't have an answer. Not a good one. Just the truth, burning in his chest like a rep that was one too many, the kind that made your muscles scream and your vision blur.
"I don't want to go home," he said. "I don't want to go back inside and pretend that didn't happen. I don't want to spend another night lying in bed wondering what I should have done differently."
She turned.
Her face was hard to read. There was anger there, sure. Frustration. But underneath it, something else. Something fragile that she was trying like hell to hide.
"You kissed me," she said.
"I did."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to." He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. "Because you were standing there looking at me like I'd already broken your heart, and I couldn't stand it. Because I've been an idiot for years, and maybe I'm still an idiot, but at least now I'm an idiot who knows what he wants."
Kenzie's jaw tightened. "And what do you want?"
"You." The word came out rough. Unpolished. "I want you, Kenzie. I don't know when it started or how I missed it, but I want you. Not as a friend. Not as some girl I grew up with. I want you."
She stared at him for a long moment. The cicadas screamed in the trees. A car door slammed somewhere in the distance.
"That's a pretty speech," she said finally.
"It's not a speech."
"Then what is it?"
"It's me being honest with you for the first time in five years." He stepped closer. Another step. Close enough to see the way her chest rose and fell, faster than normal. Close enough to smell the sweat on her skin, the faint coconut of her shampoo. "I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'm not asking for anything. I'm just telling you the truth."
Kenzie's eyes searched his face. Whatever she was looking for, she must have found it.
"Your car or mine?" she asked.
Jason blinked. "What?"
"You heard me."
His brain short-circuited for half a second. Then he pointed toward his truck, parked three rows over. "Mine."
"Good." She grabbed his hand. Her grip was strong, callused from years of gripping bats and barbells. "Let's go."
She pulled him across the parking lot. He followed, stumbling a little, his heart hammering so loud he was sure she could hear it. This was happening. Whatever this was, it was happening.
His truck was an old F-150, beat to hell but reliable. He unlocked it, and she yanked open the passenger door before he could get there to do it for her. She climbed in and slammed it shut.
Jason stood there for a second, breathing. The sky was bleeding orange and pink behind the gym. Somewhere inside, the weight room lights were still on. Somebody would find the barbell still loaded, the plates still stacked on the rack. He didn't care.
He got in.
The cab smelled like leather and old coffee and a pine tree air freshener that had lost its scent months ago. Kenzie was already buckled in, staring straight ahead through the windshield. Her hands were in her lap, fingers twisted together.
"You sure about this?" he asked.
She looked at him. Really looked. Her eyes were dark, intense, the same eyes that had watched him from across a hundred rooms over a hundred days.
"I've been sure since eighth grade," she said. "The question is whether you are."
He answered by starting the engine.
They didn't talk on the drive. Jason kept both hands on the wheel, knuckles white, jaw clenched. Kenzie watched the streets blur past—the strip malls, the fast-food joints, the houses with their manicured lawns and their sprinklers ticking on in the dusk. Her neighborhood was on the other side of town. His was closer.
He pulled into his driveway and killed the engine. The house was dark. His parents were at some dinner party in Dallas, wouldn't be back until late. He'd told them he'd be at the gym. Not technically a lie.
"Come on," he said.
They walked inside together. The kitchen smelled like the candle his mom had lit that morning, something floral and sweet. Jason didn't turn on any lights. Just led her through the dark, up the stairs, down the hall, to his room.
His bedroom was exactly what she expected. Trophies on the shelf. Posters of athletes on the walls. A hamper overflowing with dirty clothes in the corner. His bed was unmade, sheets tangled, pillows punched into shape by years of habit.
Kenzie stood in the doorway, taking it in. She'd been in here before. Years ago. Back when they were kids and it was all video games and homework and the easy comfort of friendship. That felt like a different lifetime now.
Jason closed the door behind her.
The click of the lock was loud in the quiet.
She turned to face him. They stood there, two feet apart, the air between them thick with everything unsaid. The room was warm, stuffy, the AC struggling against the August heat.
"So," she said.
"So," he echoed.
"I'm not going to make this easy for you."
"I didn't ask you to."
"I'm serious, Jason. I'm not some girl you can kiss and then pretend you don't see in the hallway the next day. If we do this—"
"We're doing this."
She raised an eyebrow. "Confident."
"Terrified." He stepped closer. His hand found her hip, fingers curling around the waistband of her shorts. "But I'm done pretending I don't want you."
Kenzie's breath caught. She reached up, grabbed the back of his neck, and pulled him down.
The kiss was nothing like the one in the weight room. That had been tentative, questioning. This was hungry. Desperate. Two people who'd spent years circling each other finally colliding.
She bit his lip. He groaned and backed her up against the door, pinning her there with his body. His hands slid under her shirt, palms hot against her stomach, her ribs, the underside of her sports bra.
"You have no idea," she gasped, "how long I've thought about this."
"Tell me."
"Every day. Every fucking day, Jason. Watching you walk around like you owned the place, smiling at everyone, touching everyone but me."
He pulled her shirt over her head. Tossed it somewhere behind him. His eyes raked over her body—the sports bra, the abs she'd worked years to build, the flush spreading across her chest.
"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared of what I'd feel if I let myself look at you like this."
"And now?"
"Now I can't stop looking."
He kissed her again, deeper this time, one hand tangled in her hair while the other worked at the clasp of her bra. It popped open. He slid it off her shoulders, let it fall.
"Fuck," he breathed, staring at her bare chest. "You're beautiful."
"Don't just stare at them."
He didn't need to be told twice. His mouth closed over one nipple, tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to make her hiss. His hand found the other, thumb rubbing slow circles while she arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders.
"Yes," she moaned. "God, yes."
He switched sides, giving the other breast the same attention. Kenzie's head fell back against the door. Her hips bucked against his, grinding against the hard line of his cock through his shorts.
"Bed," she managed. "Now."
He picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, arms around his neck, and he carried her across the room, dropping her onto the mattress. The springs creaked. He stood over her, chest heaving, and pulled his shirt off.
Kenzie propped herself up on her elbows and let her eyes travel down his body. The broad shoulders. The chiseled chest. The abs that made her mouth water. The trail of dark hair disappearing into his shorts.
"You're not bad yourself," she said.
He laughed—a real laugh, surprised and warm—and then he was on top of her, kissing her neck, her collarbone, the valley between her breasts. His hands worked at her shorts, tugging them down her legs, along with her underwear.
She was naked now. Completely. Spread out on his bed like something he'd dreamed about and never let himself have.
Jason sat back on his heels and looked at her.
"Jesus Christ," he said.
"Stop staring and touch me."
He did.
His fingers found her cunt, already wet, already ready. She gasped when he slid two fingers inside her, thumb circling her clit with the kind of focused attention he usually reserved for the weight room.
"Oh fuck," she breathed. "Oh fuck, Jason."
"You like that?"
"Yes. Don't stop."
He didn't. He worked her with his fingers, watching her face, learning what made her moan, what made her hips jerk, what made her dig her heels into the mattress and curse under her breath. She was close—he could feel it in the way her walls tightened around his fingers.
"Wait," she said. "Wait. I want—"
"What?"
She pushed at his wrist. He pulled his hand away. She sat up, reached for the waistband of his shorts, and yanked them down. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, already leaking at the tip.
"Fuck," she whispered.
"That's the plan."
She shoved him back onto the mattress and climbed on top of him. Straddled his hips. His hands found her thighs, gripping hard enough to bruise.
"Condom," she said.
"Glove box."
She raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"I'm an athlete. I'm prepared."
She laughed—a real laugh, the kind he hadn't heard from her in weeks—and climbed off him. He heard her rummaging through his shorts, heard the crinkle of foil, and then she was back, rolling the condom down his shaft with hands that shook just slightly.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Been ready since the parking lot."
She positioned herself over him, held his gaze, and sank down.
They both groaned. She was tight, wet, hotter than anything he'd ever felt. He gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, and rocked up into her.
"Shit," he grunted. "Kenzie—"
"Shut up."
She started moving. Slow at first, adjusting to the feel of him inside her. Then faster. Harder. She rode him like she did everything—with determination, with focus, with a complete refusal to back down.
Jason watched her. The way her tits bounced with every thrust. The way her head fell back, mouth open, hair spilling down her shoulders. The way she looked at him like she wanted to devour him whole.
"You feel so fucking good," he said.
"Don't talk. Just—"
He flipped them over.
Kenzie gasped as her back hit the mattress. He was on top of her now, still buried inside her, and he didn't give her a second to adjust. He fucked her hard. Punishing. The way she'd wanted him to for years.
"Fuck," she screamed. "Yes. Yes, right there—"
He grabbed her wrists, pinned them above her head. His hips slammed into hers, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper.
"That's it," he growled. "Take it. Take all of it."
"Jason—"
"You've been waiting for this, haven't you? Thinking about me fucking you while you touched yourself at night?"
"Yes—"
He drove into her harder. Faster. The headboard slammed against the wall. She didn't care if the neighbors heard. Didn't care about anything except the feeling of him stretching her, filling her, hitting that spot that made stars explode behind her eyes.
"This pussy is mine," he said. "You hear me? Mine."
"Prove it."
He did.
He fucked her until her thighs trembled. Until sweat dripped from his forehead onto her chest. Until she was a writhing, moaning mess underneath him, nails raking down his back, teeth biting into his shoulder.
"I'm gonna—" she gasped.
"Come for me."
"Jason—"
"Come."
She broke.
The orgasm ripped through her like a freight train. She screamed his name, body arching off the mattress, cunt clenching around his cock so hard it nearly pushed him over the edge. He held on, barely, watching her fall apart beneath him.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Fuck, you're so—"
"Keep going." Her eyes were wild. Desperate. "Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."
He didn't.
He fucked her through the aftershocks, then flipped her over. She ended up on her stomach, face pressed into the pillow, ass in the air. He grabbed her hips and slammed into her from behind.
"You like that?" he asked.
She couldn't respond. Just moaned into the pillow, fingers twisting in the sheets.
He leaned over her, chest flush against her back, mouth at her ear. "I said, do you like that?"
"Yes. God, yes."
"Good." He bit her ear. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
He fucked her like that for a long time. Hard, deep strokes that made her see stars. His hand snaked around to her clit, rubbing in tight circles while he pounded into her from behind.
"Come again," he ordered.
"I can't—"
"You can. Do it."
The second orgasm was even bigger than the first. She screamed into the pillow, body convulsing, cunt milking his cock for everything it had. Jason fucked her through it, jaw clenched, holding back until she went limp beneath him.
Only then did he let himself go.
He pulled out, ripped the condom off, and stroked his cock twice before he came. Hot ropes of cum painted her ass, her lower back, the sheets beneath them. He groaned long and low, head falling forward, one hand braced on the headboard to keep himself upright.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing. Heavy. Synchronized. The ceiling fan whirred above them, pushing hot air around the room.
Kenzie stirred. Turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.
"That," she said, voice hoarse, "was worth the wait."
Jason laughed. Actually laughed. Something inside his chest felt cracked open, raw and new.
"Yeah," he said. "It was."
He collapsed onto the bed next to her, pulled her into his arms, and held on tight. Her skin was slick with sweat. Her hair was a disaster. She smelled like sex and coconut and something that was just her.
"You're not leaving," he said. Not a question.
"I wasn't planning on it."
"Good."
She turned in his arms, faced him, traced the line of his jaw with her fingers. "What happens tomorrow?"
"I don't know." He kissed her forehead. "But I'm not letting you go again. That's all I've got so far."
Kenzie smiled. It was small, tentative, but real.
"That's enough for now," she said.
They lay there in the darkening room, wrapped around each other, while the sun finished its descent outside the window. Somewhere down the hall, Jason's phone buzzed with a text from his mom. Somewhere across town, Kenzie's parents wondered where their daughter was. Neither of them noticed.
They had time.
They had each other.
And for now, that was enough.