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Oakley groans, tilting his head up. “You’re trying to torture me.”

“Yes.” I nip at his bottom lip. “But I’m also going to make you come so hard you see stars. It’ll be worth it, baby. I promise.”

I feel his body stiffen beneath mine. It’s not the first time I’ve used the term of endearment, but it’s the first one when I’m on top of him and can feel his reaction. Is that too much? That’s not the kind of shit I say to someone I’m casual with.

“I’m sorry.” I try to push myself off him, but Oakley’s legs wrap around me, arms tightening so I can’t get up.

“Don’t be sorry. I just didn’t expect it.” This time it’s him who leans forward and kisses me. Then, before I even realize what we’re doing or how it started, we’re wrestling each other. We roll off the couch and fall to the floor, both of us laughing as we grapple with each other, both of us trying to do what, exactly, I don’t know—win at this ongoing game that we always seem to be playing.

I get him beneath me, holding his hands above his head, Oakley panting hard. He bucks his body, trying to throw me off him. I bury my face in his neck, lick the skin there, then playfully bite him, earning another groan.

I’m distracted enough by the sound that it takes me by surprise when he yanks his arm, pulling out of my grasp, grabbing me and flipping us so I’m on my back and he’s straddling me. He tries to grab my arms, but I work to fight him off. Oak gets the best of me, though, managing to grab my wrists, but I don’t go down easily.

“This what you’re going to do tonight? You gonna ride me?” I ask, and he falters, giving me the opportunity to pull one hand free. I grab his ass, palm his tight cheeks, and say, “I can’t wait to get up in you.”

“You don’t play fair,” he says, and when he lowers himself to take my mouth, I stop fighting, become putty in his hand, letting Oakley sweep my mouth with his tongue. I pull him down, roll him, so we’re both on our sides, not wrestling anymore, and instead just making out: giving and taking, tasting each other, letting hands stroll over each other’s bodies, stopping to map out our favorite parts.

I don’t know how much time actually passes when I say, “If you don’t be good, I’m going to fuck you right here.”

“Yes, please,” Oakley replies breathlessly, but no matter how hard my dick throbs, I’m not taking him yet. I’m not taking him until we’re in my bed.

“Stop being such a bad boy,” I tease, then suck his lip into my mouth. I push to my feet and hold my hand out for him. “Come on.”

“What are we doing?”

“Enjoying our day together,” I reply, wanting to do exactly that.

We go to my game room, where I have billiards, air hockey, pinball, table tennis, and some old-school arcade games.

“Tiana would love this,” he says. “She’s a fucking shark at air hockey.”

“No shit?” I ask. “Bring her over sometime. She can play. Just know I’m not letting her win.”

He cocks his head slightly, studying me in this way that I can’t decipher before he gives me a nod. “Yeah…okay. She’d like that.”

“Come on. I have to prove myself after losing earlier.”

We spend the next couple of hours playing and competing in every way imaginable, and I do, in fact, redeem myself before we head into the kitchen to make dinner.

“What are we having?” he asks.

“Smothered chicken. My mama’s recipe. It’s dope.”

He grins. “I love smothered chicken.”

“Good.” I wink. It’s not the healthiest meal, but I’m thankful he doesn’t complain about it.

We do every step together—Oakley and I in the kitchen making the chicken and gravy, potatoes, green beans, and cornbread.

We eat outside together, enjoying the comfortable evening, the conversation never slowing. It’s always been like that with Oak, like we never run out of things to talk about. I noticed it from that first day on the beach—the comfort and familiarity I feel with him, even when I didn’t know him, even later when we hadn’t talked in years.

“I’ll help you clean up,” he says when we put our dishes in the sink after spending some time outside. Instead, I block him in, holding him against the counter with my body, one hand on each side of him.

“How about I clean up down here, and you go upstairs and take care of anything you need to do up there?” I don’t break our eye contact, making sure he understands what I’m saying.

Oakley nods. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

“Anything you might need is under the bathroom sink. Take your time, and remember—”