Page 67 of Hits Different

My heart leaps. “Do you mean it?”

“I do”, she pauses. “But until you’ve made up your mind, let’s keep this on the down low. I don’t know how your cousin would feel, and I could live without any drama with Simon”.

“Drama? With Simon?” It was hard to imagine my strictly-business cousin having drama with anyone, especially Zara. Even if they used to be engaged. “What do you mean?”

“He’s just very driven, is all”.

“He’s working super hard”. I offer, remembering our conversation in his office. “Summit is his baby. There’s a lot of competition in the industry right now”.

“The eternal quest for a relationship with The Garrison?” I nod. “I can’t believe he hasn’t let that go”.

“What do you mean?”

“The Garrison is undeniably prestigious. But that doesn’t make them good people. They’re incredibly elitist. They import all of their food, rather than supporting local businesses. But Simon sees it as a benchmark of success”. Zara sighs, “If they accept him, it’ll be like he’s accomplished something. But success doesn’t start and end with being accepted by people who look down on you”.

I may not be a business expert, but I don’t think Simon's in the the wrong for wanting something more for himself. Maybe if they could just see what Summit offered, they’d change their mind.

Maybe they just need someone else to show them.

“I’m going to get started on your paperwork”, Zara interrupts my thoughts, “In the meantime, try not to humble any more of my boys. It’s bad for morale”.

I nod, thrilling from the inside out. I lean against the wall, processing the door that’s just opened for me. This could really be something.Right, Dad?

I catch sight of a guy about my age. Kinda of preppy to be a fighter. Clean shaven, with a blond crew cut. Nice build. I could probably take him, if it came down to it.

My gaze drifts over to his friend. Buzzcut. Two full sleeves. Looks like he lifts. A lot. His friend catches me staring, and I break away immediately. I down a swig of water, and turn my attention to stretching out my hamstrings, heart pounding.

“Watch it, jackass”.

I turn to find myself face to face with a familiar-looking kid. He scowls at me. “Wait, it’s Jack, isn’t it?” The kid from Carlucci’s. “Glad to see you’re okay”.

He shrugs. “I can handle myself”.

“I’m sure. Still. If you’re in a bar, people are going to assume you’re an adult, and treat you like one”. I pause. “Trust me, I’ve been there”.

“I didn’t ask for your advice”. He pushes past me and heads to the punching bags. “And I damn sure wouldn’t take it from someone who goes running from a fight just as it’s getting good”.

I sigh. Great job, Di Rossi. I grab my holdall and head for the door.

I risk a glance back over to the guy with the sleeves. The slap of his knuckles against the leather runs through me like electricity.

My dick twitches, and I jump out of my skin. It’s not just Brandon who can do this to me. It’s other guys too. What does that matter?

Of course it fucking matters.

And I know that, deep down. It’s not like I’veneverthought about other guys before. But everyone does, surely. Don’t they?

Don’t they?

* * * *

Café Mernova is about a fifteen-minute walk from the gym, but by the time I meet Brandon, I’m nearly half an hour late.

I don’t typically ‘brunch’ as a verb, but Brandon looks right at home, cosied up in the corner underneath a dozen novelty clocks. He’s wearing a light black cotton sweater that makes his face look even more defined than usual.

He nods at the cup of black coffee and the remaining half of an unevenly sliced blueberry muffin. “In my defence, I intended to give you a full muffin, but you’re pretty late and I have precisely zero willpower when it comes to baked goods”.

“Good job I arrived when I did”. I side-eye the muffin, feeling ridiculously touched. I’ve been craving a cup of normal black all morning. “Thank-you. I’m impressed you remembered my coffee order”.

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