Kota paced the narrow confines of the elevator, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like an accusatory swarm of insects. The air inside felt stale, thick with the faint metallic tang of old machinery and the distant echo of neighbors' muffled conversations seeping through the walls. His thumb hovered over the phone's screen, refreshing the blank call log every few seconds as if willing Theo's name to appear. Twelve minutes had ticked by since their last conversation—eleven agonizing minutes of waiting, one more slipping away now—and with each passing second, the knot in his stomach tightened. What if Theo's dad said no? What if the whole plan crumbled, leaving him to improvise some half-baked excuse to Khalil? He could picture it already: heading back upstairs, claiming the "site" was closed for the day due to weather or inspections, only for Khalil to probe deeper, demanding details that didn't exist. The elevator doors remained stubbornly closed, trapping him in this limbo, his reflection in the scuffed metal panels staring back with wide, anxious eyes.
The phone finally vibrated in his hand, jolting him like an electric shock. Theo's name flashed on the screen. Kota answered before the second ring, pressing the device to his ear with a shaky grip. "Theo? Tell me good news. Please."
Theo's voice came through, a mix of excitement and hesitation, the words tumbling out in a rush that betrayed his own nerves. "Okay, so... Dad said yes. But there's a catch—or a few, actually. You're not getting paid. He doesn't like 'doing business with common wealth,' whatever that means. I think it's his way of saying he doesn't want to deal with payroll for someone outside our circle. He's old-school like that—prefers keeping things in-house or with vetted partners. Anyway, he was a bit suspicious at first. Asked a ton of questions about you, like how we met, what your background is. I think he thought you were my boyfriend or something—kept giving me this side-eye look over breakfast. But I shut that down quick. Told him you're a business colleague, someone I'm networking with for potential future projects. He bought it, mostly. Grumbled a bit but agreed."
Kota exhaled sharply, leaning against the elevator wall as relief flooded him, loosening the tension in his chest just enough to breathe easier. "Holy shit, Theo. Thank you. Seriously. That's perfect—I don't need pay, just the cover. Pics, a tour, something to show Dad. This saves my ass."
Theo chuckled softly, the sound warm but edged with his usual self-deprecation. "Yeah, well, there's more. I insisted on coming along—told Dad it'd be good for me to get hands-on with the site, learn the ropes. He wants me to take you on a tour anyway, show you around like it's an official thing. Make it look legit. Oh, and... I'm already outside. Parked a block away, like yesterday. White McLaren, you know the one. Hurry on down before someone notices the fancy car in this neighborhood."
Kota's eyes widened, a startled laugh escaping him that echoed off the elevator walls. "You're already here? Damn, Theo—for all your family baggage, you're extremely helpful. Like, lifesaver level. I'm coming now."
He jabbed the lobby button again—though the doors were already sealed—and felt the faint rumble as the elevator finally began its descent. The ride down seemed eternal, each floor indicator light flickering like a countdown to potential disaster. But Theo's quick action had bought him a lifeline, turning a panicked scramble into something manageable. As the doors slid open to the lobby—a cramped space with peeling wallpaper, a bulletin board cluttered with faded flyers for lost pets and yard sales—Kota bolted through, weaving past a neighbor lugging grocery bags. The morning air outside hit him crisp and cool, carrying the faint scent of exhaust from passing trucks and the distant hum of the city waking up. He spotted the McLaren immediately, its sleek white curves standing out like a diamond in a gravel pit against the backdrop of rusted sedans and chain-link fences.
Kota jogged over, sliding into the passenger seat with a hurried glance around to ensure no one—especially Khalil—was watching from a window. The interior enveloped him in luxury: soft leather, the subtle glow of the dashboard screens, a faint trace of Theo's cologne—something woody and expensive. Theo sat behind the wheel, dressed casually in slim jeans and a fitted hoodie that hugged his athletic frame, his flared hips and prominent ass shifting slightly as he adjusted in the seat. His face lit up with a shy smile, green eyes sparkling under the morning light filtering through the tinted windows.
"See? Told you I'd handle it," Theo said, starting the engine with a low purr. He pulled away from the curb smoothly, merging into traffic with the effortless confidence of someone who'd grown up with chauffeurs but insisted on driving himself. "The site's about twenty minutes east—Chester Mall revamp. It's huge: new retail spaces on the ground level, luxury condos above, green roofs for sustainability stuff. Dad's funding a big chunk through our real estate arm. The foreman's a guy named Ramirez(diffrent one from khalis work) —solid dude, been with us on projects for years. I'll introduce you as my colleague, like I told Dad. You can snap pics, 'work' a bit if you want to sell it—lift some beams, whatever. Just don't actually strain anything; site's insured, but I don't want you hurt."
Kota nodded, half-listening as Theo launched into a detailed breakdown of the project. Theo's voice gained enthusiasm, gesturing with one hand while steering with the other. "So, the foundation's mostly done—poured concrete last month, reinforced with steel rebar grids to handle the Houston soil shifts. We're using eco-friendly mixes now, low-carbon cement to cut emissions by like 30%. Above that, the framing's going up—steel beams for the mall section, timber hybrids for the residential to keep costs down. Dad's obsessed with the ROI—return on investment—projects a 15% yield in five years from leases alone. And the design? Modern minimalist—glass facades for natural light, integrated solar panels. Oh, and the parking garage is underground to maximize green space topside. It's got EV charging stations everywhere; forward-thinking, right? Ramirez says the crew's ahead of schedule, but weather could—"
The words blurred into a comforting ramble, Theo's passion for the details shining through despite his usual nervousness around personal stuff. Kota watched him for a moment—the way his cheeks flushed slightly when he got animated, hands waving to emphasize points about structural integrity or zoning permits. Amid the chaos of the Hawthornes—the twins' aggressive flirting, Beckett's unhinged cult vibes—Theo stood out as genuinely kind, always stepping up without expecting anything in return. A surge of gratitude hit Kota, warm and unexpected. Before he could overthink it, he leaned across the console and wrapped Theo in a big hug, arms squeezing tight around his shoulders.
Theo froze mid-sentence, the car swerving slightly as his foot slipped on the accelerator. "Wha—Kota?" The McLaren lurched toward the curb, tires squealing softly before Theo slammed on the brakes, pulling over haphazardly in a no-parking zone. Horns blared from behind, but Theo didn't seem to notice. His body went rigid in the embrace, breath hitching audibly, face turning a deep crimson that spread from his cheeks to his ears. He stared straight ahead, hands gripping the wheel like it was a lifeline, barely responsive beyond a faint, stuttering exhale.
Kota pulled back after a few seconds, confusion knitting his brows. "Theo? You okay? It was just a hug. Thanks for... everything. Seriously."
Theo didn't move at first, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, eyes wide and unfocused on the dashboard. A fine tremor ran through his arms, and he swallowed hard, lips parting but no words coming out immediately. Kota tilted his head, puzzled— they'd fucked multiple times, raw and intense, bodies entangled in ways far more intimate than this. Yet here Theo was, flustered to the point of near-catatonia over a simple, platonic squeeze. It didn't add up; Theo's usual shyness amplified to an extreme, like the hug had short-circuited something deep inside him.
"Theo, dude—breathe. You're freaking me out." Kota waved a hand in front of his face, but Theo just blinked slowly, color still high on his cheeks.
Finally, Theo let out a long, shaky sigh, loosening his death grip on the wheel one finger at a time. His shoulders slumped as he caught his breath, the flush beginning to recede though his eyes remained a bit glassy.