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I’d performed three times this weekend, which wasn’t unusual—there weren’t all that many of us Goliaths—but it wasn’t normally this taxing. Vince had stayed in a bad mood all weekend, and it had started to rub off on me and make me irritable. I’d tried to cheer him up at first, but he seemed determined to sulk.

Maybe it was a ghoul thing. Rafe liked to complain too, and he could get pretty grumpy. But Rafe wasn’t vicious about it like Vince could be. I loved Vince, but he tended to lash out, and because Crossbody liked to make digs, he was who Vince was lashing out at.

Holt came into the backstage area after the show ended to give his usual ‘good job’ speech. Sometimes, I got the sense that Holt was kind of winging it as the manager of anything, let alone a professional wrestling organisation. But he always took the time to come and congratulate us after each show, and we all appreciated feeling valued.

Except the time one of the wires keeping the cage suspended to the ceiling snapped during a show, and the whole thing had dropped a few feet and started creaking ominously as Kit and Vince scrambled out of the ring directly beneath it as fast as possible. Luckily, one of the bartenders was a shadowperson, and he’d shot up into the air to hold on to it and stop it crashing down until it could be hastily fixed.

That night, Holt had walked into the backstage area after the show ended, his hair a complete mess, and bluntly told us, “I’m going to get drunk.”

Taylor was with him this time, looking as adorable as ever and a little tired as he rubbed his face, waiting patiently for Holt to finish. Once the boss was done with his speech, we were finally able to start getting ready to leave. Some of us headed down to the bar after the show sometimes to meet the fans who lingered the longest. I was one of them, usually, because I admittedly loved the attention, but tonight I wasn’t feeling it.

By the time I’d taken a quick shower and dressed in comfy sweats and a tee, I was flagging. As I left my dressing room, Vince was just walking into his, still wearing his wrestling outfit.

“Night, man,” I said before he vanished inside.

“Night,” he muttered back. “Sorry I was a dick all weekend.”

I sighed, making my way down the corridor as he shut the door behind him. He didn’t seem to have perked up yet. Hoped he wouldn’t be like this all next week too.

Maybe he just needed to get laid. Vince got edgy when he hadn’t fucked in a while.

I wiped a hand down my tired face when I got into my car. Usually, I was still in a great mood by the end of the weekend, even when I was exhausted from performing. The adrenaline and cheers from the crowd kept me bright-eyed, but tonight I was feeling a little low.

Corey was right. Vince and Crossbody needed to sort their shit out before it dragged the rest of us down.

When I pulled onto my driveway and cut the engine, my gaze automatically flicked over to Rafe’s house. All the lights were off downstairs, but it looked like his bedroom lamp was still on, the soft glow permeating the closed curtains. He couldn’t have got home that along ago either.

Suddenly, my chest tightened with the urge to see him. I frowned and rubbed it uncomfortably, not sure why I was feeling that way. I liked socialising and I liked my friends, but I didn’t need constant companionship. I didn’t need anyone. I didn’t seek comfort in other people like that. The rare occasions I got down, I just did something that I knew would perk me up. Like hang out with friends, or work out, or find someone to fuck.

Maybe I just wanted sex. That had to be it. I was feeling a little off, and I knew a good orgasm would perk me right back up.

Except the thought instantly made me feel kind of guilty, like I was reducing Rafe to nothing but a body that could give me relief. Which wasn’t true at all. I liked Rafe. Wasn’t sure he liked me back all that much, outside of when I was making him come, but he’d softened at least a little since we’d started fooling around.

He was fun, but he still somehow always made me feel weirdly calm.

And sex with him was way, way hotter than I’d expected it to be. It was ridiculously hot. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

My gut clenched with something almost like longing as I sat in my car and stared vacantly up at his bedroom window. Honestly, I was tired and still tense, so I wasn’t sure I actually did want to have sex tonight.

But I still kind of wanted to see him.

Feeling weirdly vulnerable, I grabbed my phone from the cupholder and opened my messages. Rafe and I had exchanged numbers last week, but we hadn’t actually texted each other yet. I hadn’t spoken to him since Wednesday night. In fact, I hadn’t seen him since then either. He was still like a ghost at work, and I’d been too busy rehearsing to sneak off to his office at the other end of the building.

I hesitated, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard as I glanced at the time and winced. Nearly 1 a.m. But his bedroom light was still on, so surely he was awake.

Unable to stop myself, I started typing. If he was asleep, he’d just see the text in the morning and I could laugh it off as me being all riled up and horny after wrestling all weekend. He’d never have to know I’d had this weird, weak moment.

Hey. You up?

I winced as soon as I sent it, because I wasn’t sure how Rafe would respond to what read like a booty call text. I didn’t even mean it that way. I mean, obviously I wouldn’t turn down sex with Rafe, but it wasn’t what I was hoping for.

I didn’t really know what I was hoping for.

A hint of anxiety churned in my gut and got me moving, finally climbing out of my car. I remembered not to let the door slam shut, closing it quietly just in case he was asleep.

My pulse leaped as my phone screen lit up with a text while I was unlocking my front door. I quickly opened the message, still standing in the dark on my porch.

Rafe: Yeah. In bed though.