As they were toweling off, Nate tried not to think about the implications of realigning things back to normal in their relationship by having regular, non-power-exchanged sex. This felt like going beyond being whatever they were with benefits. The vulnerability of reassuring one another after a scene, whether it went well or badly, made making out and exchanging hand jobs feel a hell of a lot more significant than just benefits.

Maybe he should talk to Bailey about how his head was getting all screwed up and he was starting to catch feelings. Or maybe he could just wait until Bailey went back to college and deal with the repercussions of that inevitable heartbreak when it came around. No need to complicate things until then.

When they went to cross back over to Nate's bedroom, Bailey froze in the doorway, steam wafting past his flushed shoulders. The sudden tension in his spine sent Nate's heart plummeting. He wanted to drag Bailey back into the soft, foggy bathroom, slam the door shut, and pretend to go back one minute ago when everything felt otherworldly and perfect as they were gasping into each other's mouths while swathed in steam. But that was impractical, so he stuck his head through the doorway too.

Karlie stood at the top of the steps, with a spoonful of ice cream poised above a whole pint in her hand. She stared open-mouthed at them long enough for the ice cream to slide off the spoon and plop back into the container. Bailey was shocked still as well, tensed like a rabbit being swooped upon by a hawk.

Nate put a hand on his shoulder in case he was about to bolt and said, "Um."

Karlie dropped the spoon into the container with an air of triumph, like she was slamming her palm on a table, then grinned at them. "Ha!" she announced in a loud stage whisper. "Dad owes me ten bucks."

Then she twirled around and disappeared back down the steps.

"Fuck," Nate murmured, rubbing a hand roughly over his face. He could run after her, but the damage was already done. Instead, he kept his eyes closed, centered himself, and then reopened them to focus on Bailey. "I'm so sorry about her. You okay?"

His shoulders trembled under Nate's palm. A pang struck Nate in the chest, but when he turned Bailey around to look at his face, there was a smile on his lips. He was laughing.

"Shit," Nate breathed out, letting himself smile tentatively.

"Does your whole family just stay up all night long?" Bailey asked, pulling away from Nate to tiptoe across the hallway. He let his fingers skim down Nate's arm, then twined their hands together and pulled him along. The gesture of affection, as if Bailey did not want to be separated by more than an inch, eased the anxiety in his chest.

"My mom's sleeping downstairs," Nate said, too relieved to wonder that Bailey was okay with running into Karlie even though only half an hour ago he'd been having a breakdown about the idea of someone seeing him.

"Oh," Bailey rolled his eyes as they stepped into the bedroom. "One whole person sleeps at night in your family. If you stay up past nine o'clock at my mom's house, she freaks out."

"Are you serious?" Nate laughed in surprise. He shut the door behind himself and leaned back against it, relieved to be in the sanctuary of his room and afraid that his dad would be tapping on the other side of the door any minute to make sure they had condoms.

"I'm serious," Bailey widens his eyes comically.

That sounded awful to Nate. But saying so would not do anybody any good, so instead, he tossed off his towel and clambered into bed. This was sufficient to distract Bailey from comparing this house to his mother's. He placed his towel in Nate's hamper as well, then followed, curling up under Nate's lifted arm.

They tangled together, legs overlapping as Bailey pressed his entire body into Nate, even though this bed was far larger than the twin they were accustomed to in the trailer. Nate tried not to think about how that made him feel. Now would not be the opportune time to bring up how mixed up his mind had gotten, not when they just came down from a pretty emotional hour or so.

"I didn't realize you were going to be a welder," Bailey said, catching Nate off guard. It wasn't unusual for him to ramble on about whatever he was thinking while they lay together. Unless something was truly bothering him, he could hardly stay still or keep from voicing his thoughts. If he'd gone quiet without going to sleep, Nate would have probably been worried that they still weren't out of the weeds, no matter how much he seemed to have relaxed. However, Nate's career choices were not one of the things he thought Bailey might pick to talk about. "I thought you were working at your mom's gym," he tacked on.

"Just for the summer," Nate told him. "Her office assistant is out on maternity leave, and I'm familiar enough with running around and doing errands for my mom—plus I know the gym and its customers—to step in and help out. Once Sandra is back, I'll look for an actual job."

"I'm kind of surprised you didn't want to take over the gym." Bailey traced his fingers over the contours of Nate's abdomen. Shivers coursed up and down Nate's body as he did so. And when Nate flexed his muscles, maybe to show off a little bit, Bailey's lips curved into a soft smile against his pec. His words did not register until he laid a hand flat against Nate's belly and propped his chin on his chest to peer up with tired, yet curious, eyes.

"Why didn't you become a personal trainer or something?"

Nate put a hand over Bailey's and turned his eyes to the ceiling. This was a question that was posed to him quite often. Because he was fit, spent almost his entire adolescence at the gym, and had a mom who owned one. Most people expected him to fall into a career that followed the natural progression of this.

"It's not that I..." he trailed off to mull over his thoughts a little more before saying them out loud. After a couple of beats, Bailey realized this and twisted his head to lay it back across Nate's chest and give him space to think without being stared at.

Nate's usual response was that he was not interested in taking over a business. He'd seen how much that consumed his mom's life. She loved it—lived for it, even. And he was happy about that for her.

But, for himself, he could not see it that way. Her passion fueled her to throw everything into the gym, to the point that she and his dad used to get into arguments before she managed to find a better family/work balance. Nate was worried that if the gym took his all, it would drain his passion and enjoyment.

It was his mom's dream. She opened the place and put in all the work. Nate did not have the same drive. He liked the gym, but he would never open one himself, so logically, it followed that he did not want to take over his mom's. And if he became a personal trainer, that would end up happening.

"I like the gym," he said slowly. "But not enough to want to take it over. Growing up with my mom, I saw what it takes, and I don't want to commit to that. I want something simple. I go to work, do the work, and come home. You know?"

Bailey nodded, his hair brushing against the underside of Nate's chin. "I get that."

Nate wondered if he did. He was an artist trying to turn his literal passion into a career. Kudos to him, but that would exhaust Nate.

"The trades," he chuckled. "The trades don't require crushing student debts or insufferable work emails and meetings. I go in, do a good job, fool around with a bunch of dickheads all day, and get to come home and have a beer."

He squeezed Bailey's shoulder, wishing he could tack on that he got to come home to a pretty little boyfriend, but he caught himself. And hoped that Bailey could not feel how his heartbeat stammered in his chest at the thought.

"Blue collar man," Bailey murmured.

"That's me," Nate cast his eyes back down from the ceiling to look at the tufts of Bailey's hair. The bright pink color had faded into a lovely shade of salmon. It did not make his skin seem as flush and radiant as the brighter pink, but it still complimented his complexion.

His eyes traveled down the length of their bodies. Bailey's chest and belly pressed to his side without an inch of space between them. He could feel each expansion of Bailey's chest press against him as he breathed. Their hands were joined just above Nate's navel, where his cock lay soft, but still plumped and red from the sex they just had.

Bailey's groin was hidden from view by the angle of his pelvis because he'd thrown a leg over Nate's, but the press of it was obvious and hot against Nate's thigh. It felt so good to have him as close as possible like this. It looked so right.

Nate dropped the arm he had been propping behind his head to Bailey's shoulder, trailed his fingers down, over his ribs and the deep curve of his side, to his hip, and then back up again. Bailey sighed. The little puff of air cooled the water still clinging to his chest from where he hadn't fully dried himself.

"What about you?" he asked quietly. "What do you plan to do with your art degree?"

Bailey blew a raspberry. "I don't know. Be a starving artist? My mom keeps trying to get me to double major in teaching, but I'm almost halfway done college, and if I do that, it will add at least another year, probably two."

Bailey said this as if it were a life sentence. Nate chuckled and shook his head. Trade school had been enough for him. He traced the tattoos over Bailey's abdomen, the thick, bold lines of the dragon that curled around Bailey day and night, hugging him close. He was irrationally jealous of some ink blotted beneath Bailey's skin. He wished he could burrow beneath Bailey's skin.

"Why don't you become a tattoo artist?" he asked. "You used to give people tattoos back in high school, right?"

Bailey pushed up sharply to stare down at him. "You knew about that?"

"Well, yeah, I mean...everyone kinda knew that you were the guy to go to for a tat back then." Nate smiled lazily at him, happy as always to have put that little look of surprise on his face. "I always heard you were pretty good for a seventeen-year-old kid working out of his mom's basement."

"Not my mom's basement." Bailey quirked a brow. Nate supposed he had probably utilized his dad's trailer for that. "And she can never hear of this, so no tattling to your mom, okay?"

Nate brushed some hair out of his face to get a better view of his incredulous eyes. "Okay."

"You are a menace," Bailey settled back down on his chest.

Nate wrapped his arms around him and sighed in contentment. "I guess your mom would have an issue with you being a tattoo artist then?"

"She'd shit a brick," Bailey said gravely, making Nate snort. He did not say anything else until Nate felt the little puffs of his breath against his collarbone even out. His body grew heavier, too, pressing impossibly closer into Nate's arms as he slid into sleep. Nate shimmied his shoulders gently against the pillows to settle himself better, then closed his eyes and tried valiantly to sleep.

This was the first time they had gone to sleep like this together, though. Not just a nap, but the whole night through. His brain kept waking him up to remind him of that, and then it took him ages to drift off again because he didn't want to miss a minute of Bailey sleeping warm and content in his bed. But the evening had been exhausting, and eventually, sleep took him too.