Page 54 of Ripped

Connor: Hey Rick, since we don’t have any shoots lined up for this week, is it okay if I work from home? My

I stop walking. What exactly do I call Donnie? I want to say boyfriend, but am I allowed to do that yet?

roomie is sick and I’d like to stay with him.

I can’t imagine why Rick would say no, so I slip my phone back into my pocket and lift my face toward the sky. When Donnie gets better, we should go to the park. We can have a picnic and then catch one of those free movies they play in the summer. I’ll need to check the schedule for those. We should go cycling too. I wanna ride behind him so I can watch those thighs and ass in action.

I grab a basket at the fancy grocery store Donnie likes to shop at. I’m more of a Trader Joe’s guy myself, but Donnie’s place is closer to home. I head straight for the canned goods aisle and stock up on chicken soup, beef stew, and a few different kinds of beans and crushed tomatoes. A box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce from the pasta aisle. I swing through the fruit section, picking up bananas, navel oranges, and grapes, because I think Donnie will try to revolt if I don’t give him at least a couple healthy options.

I balk when the cashier tells me the total, but I hand over my credit card anyway. It’s fine. It’s for Donnie. It’s worth it.

With my arms full of groceries, I don’t notice until it’s almost too late. One second, I’m strolling down the sidewalk, eager to get back to Donnie. The next, my brain clocks a familiar face—two familiar faces. My feet stumble to a stop and spin me around.

Half a block away, Miles and Wyatt are standing face-to-face, gazing into each other’s eyes.

My heart is racing, but I take a few slow breaths and it calms down.

Wyatt wasn’t lying then. They really are in love. It’s obvious even from this far away. I don’t think Miles ever looked at me the way he’s looking at Wyatt. Like he can’t take his eyes off him. Like there’s nothing else in the world that matters but him. It’s hard to believe I never saw it when it was right in front of my face. Especially since I know what it looks like now—it’s the way I look at Donnie.

I take another breath and I feel… annoyed more than anything else. I was having such a good day—I mean, all things considered—and I don’t want Miles and Wyatt ruining it for me. I have less than zero interest in talking to them. Whatever affection or friendship I had there is gone now and I don’t miss it. I’m fine. I’m good. I’m better than good.

“Connor?”

I jump and spin toward the voice, biting back a curse. Benedict and Zev are friends Miles and I used to go out on double dates with all the time. And from the way they’re peering over my shoulder, faces painted with guilt, it seems like they’re continuing the tradition—without me.

“How are you doing?” Zev asks. The concern lacing his voice makes my skin crawl.

As if he actually cares how I’m doing. Neither of them has reached out in the weeks since I walked in on Miles and Wyatt. All those times we sat at the same table, sipping mimosas over brunch, all those karaoke nights and getting drunk at a club—none of it meant anything to them.

Or if I’m honest with myself, to me. I haven’t thought about brunch or karaoke or going out to a club. I haven’t thought about Benedict or Zev or any of the people I used to call friends. They were never really my friends, were they? They always belonged more to Miles. Except for Wyatt and well… whatever, Miles can have him too.

“We’re really sorry for what happened,” Benedict adds when I don’t answer right away.

I snort. Right, I don’t believe that for a second.

“Where are you staying now? Are things okay?” Zev picks up.

I roll my eyes and hike my bags higher onto my shoulder.

“I’m fine,” I say and strut off in the direction I came from. They can have their double date. I have something better waiting for me at home.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

DONNIE

I end up sleeping a lot. Every time I open my eyes, Connor’s there, either lying in bed next to me or set up in the armchair with his computer perched on his lap. He feeds me, keeps me hydrated, helps me shower, changes the bedsheets.

It’s the second—or maybe third—morning when I finally wake up and don’t feel utterly miserable. I stink. My clothes are soaked with sweat. But my body is oddly light when I sit up and my brain doesn’t pound against the inside of my skull.

“Hey.” Connor sets his laptop aside and comes to sit next to me on the bed. He puts his hand on my forehead. “You’re not so hot anymore.”

I give him a dead stare. “Gee, thanks.”

He snorts and kisses the top of my head. “I meant your fever, silly. I think it broke.”

I give my shoulders an experimental roll. There’s only lingering soreness, like I went for a long ride the day before. “Yeah, I think so too.”

Connor holds out a new bottle of Gatorade. “Hydrate.”

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