MMA fighters weren’t machines; nor were they animals. They weren’t showmen faking hits and diving. Whatever people’s perceptions, Zeph always insisted that they were trained athletes, and one glimpse at his grueling schedule took them aback.

He had to watch what he ate, and when and how he worked out. At times, he trained from dawn ’til dusk in one way or another. Mental and physical focus both took work to improve, and knowledge of the opponent’s style was hard-won through watching old tapes of them. Plus, Zeph had long since grown accustomed to pre-dawn runs, and maintaining a rigorous bedtime routine helped get him out of bed in the morning.

During peak training periods, he would cut off literally any conversation at eight PM to start his bedtime routine. He wasn’t currently in the peak period—not quite yet, not for another few weeks—but he still maintained those habits in the off-time.

Part of taking care of his body was ensuring no exposure to electronic screens for the last hour before bedtime. He also didn’t have a lot of people who were close to him. A couple of friends, really, and some online friends who knew how to email him.

It made sense to shut off his phone before he started his bedtime routine, therefore, and Zeph didn’t turn it on again until after his morning run, protein shake, weight routine, shower, and breakfast—nearly always in that order.

The voicemail notification, therefore, took him by surprise.

He raised the phone to his ear to listen as he rinsed the last few dishes. He paused, setting the last pot in the drain tray and towelling off his hands when he recognized a voice.

It was River.

Call me back when you have a minute…

Zeph focused on River’s words. There was a little flirtation there, sure, but he was pretty sure it was a genuine business proposal.

Well, if River wanted him to dress in drag, he was going to have to turn him down. Zeph was pretty sure nothing River fit into would look cute on him.

He got River’s voicemail in return.

“Hey River, it’s Zeph.” He quickly glanced at the clock. When he woke early, even after his routine was complete, he was sometimes up and moving before seven. To most people, that was hellishly early.

Phew. It was almost eight. Almost normal.

“I got your call. Uh, I guess we’re playing telephone tag now. Call me back, if you’ve still got that business proposition to talk about.”

It wasn’t even a minute before his phone rang. River.

“Hey, Zeph. Glad you called.”

He caught himself thinking River’s sleepy voice was cute. Scratchy but warm. He could hear the smile. “Uh, you too? What’s up?”

“Can we meet up? Brunch somewhere?” River suggested.

Visions of fifteen-dollar strawberry mimosas danced in front of Zeph’s eyes. That was the other thing—MMA fighters, unless they were in the top tier or they had a lot of fights, weren’t millionaires. Sponsorship paid, but again, the top tier got those offers.

“Where?” he cautiously asked. “Uh, I just ate, but I can have something.” He was a little short on protein. Scrambled eggs or something wouldn’t kill him.

Oh, yeah. It was Saturday. Cheat day! French toast it was.

“I know a great, cheap little place. It’s a little hole-in-the-wall. Iggy’s.”

“Perfect.” Zeph glanced down at himself. He’d just changed, but he’d chosen sweatpants and an old, comfy t-shirt today. He’d have to wear something nicer if he was about to meet River. “That’ll take me, like, twenty minutes or something.”

“No worries.” River yawned on the other end of the phone. “I gotta—I gotta get up and stuff.”

Zeph smiled. He’d only woken up beside River a couple of times, but he remembered how slow River was to wake. It was adorable.

Again with that. Knock it off. Exes are exes, he reminded himself.

“Sure. No rush. Show up when you show. Whoever gets there first grabs a table.” Zeph shrugged out of his old t-shirt and into a nice, tight new one. He chose dark jeans that made his ass look good.

“Perfect. See you in a few,” River told him, running water in the background. “If I don’t fall asleep at the coffee pot.”

“Reassuring. Wait, coffee—we’ll get it at the place.”

“Silly. Coffee to get me to the place,” River teased.

Zeph minimized his caffeine intake. Another fun part of being an athlete—the caffeine-free green teas when whoever he was out with guzzled fatty lattes. “Oh. Yeah. Late night?”

“Not as late as I’d like.” That was definitely flirtation in River’s voice.

Zeph chuckled as he pulled his shoes on, then patted his pockets. “Okay. I’m on my way out. Catch you in a couple.”

“Sweet lord almighty, give me a chance to catch up here.”

“I’ll give you a head start, then. I won’t even drive.”

“Or run.”

“Or run,” Zeph promised, his lips twitching into a smile as he locked his front door.

“Like that helps,” River muttered. “Where’s my… where’s… I left… right…” he mumbled to himself. “Christ on a cracker, you could walk backward and beat me there. I don’t even have pants on.”

Zeph couldn’t refrain from grinning now. “Oh? What else are you wearing?”

“Hey,” River’s laugh was sharp but playful. “Wait and find out.”

“Don’t make me wait too long. Not sure I can handle blue balls this early. Bye.” Zeph hung up and grinned at his phone, picturing the look on River’s face. If River was still River, that would get him there at least ten minutes faster.

* * *

Sure enough, Zeph had only just gotten his unsweetened iced tea when River stumbled through the diner door, blinking and scanning the room slowly.

River always strode so tall and confident, like he knew exactly where he was going and would stomp a three-inch high heel through the foot of anyone in the way. But he looked adorable right now half-asleep, clinging to the doorframe and shielding his eyes. He’d dressed down in skinny black jeans, red Converse, and a lacy black butterfly dress.

Zeph was pretty sure he could see River’s nipples from here.

His lips twitched into a smile. He raised a hand to catch River’s eye, then waited as the blond made his way over. Zeph couldn’t help but notice he’d styled his hair, too, despite how half-asleep he looked.

“Morning,” River grumbled. “If it counts as that yet.”

“It’s not even nine,” Zeph told him, grinning. “I got you out of bed real early. Must be one hell of a business proposition.”

River sighed dramatically. “Leaving bed early doesn’t happen unless he’s got an over thirty-degree bend in his—morning, darling. Black coffee.” He blew the waitress a kiss of appreciation with both sets of fingertips, and she grinned back.

He was a regular here, then. Zeph wasn’t surprised. He glanced back at River, his brows rising. “Getting back to thirty-degree bends…?”

“Come on. You’re telling me you’ve never had a fishhook dick.”

The name made Zeph cringe, curling his toes into his shoes.

“Yeah. Exactly.” The waitress—Tasha, her name tag read—brought River a cup and he kissed her cheek. “You’re a lifesaver. How’d the birthday party go?”

Tasha sighed with what sounded like relief, pushing her hair back up in the bun and twisting it around the pencil again. “She was good as gold. Coloring books. Who knew?”

“The old ways are the best,” River nodded, flashing her a grin and sipping his coffee. “I found a couple good-as-new books at the Sally Ann, actually. I’ll bring by the nature one for her.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” A smile bubbled across Tasha’s face. “Haley’s gonna love that.”

“Next time my brain’s functional,” River promised. “I’ll drop it off this afternoon. I’m saving the princess one for Kevin.” He glanced at Zeph. “Kyle’s kid.”

Zeph nodded like he knew who Kyle was, searching his memory. Had he met him? He couldn’t remember meeting any of River’s friends.

Tasha’s curious gaze was on him now, and Zeph did his best to meet it with a friendly smile and nod.

This was classic River—knowing everyone, taking care of the people around him… but was he looking after himself? He’d always pretended to put himself first, and sneakily helped everyone else.

A bell rang on the kitchen and Tasha turned to grab her next order. “Oops. Talk to you later, hon.”

River blew a kiss at her retreating back, then stretched out in the booth, slipping a compact mirror out of his pocket and flipping it open to check his lips. Was he wearing gloss? Zeph couldn’t tell. His lips did look kind of one matte color all over, now that he thought about it.

“Where were we?” River hummed, tapping one slender finger against his lips.

Zeph tried hard not to remember those fingers curled around his cock, those pretty lips pursing around the head of his cock.

Oh, God, did he remember the sex. They’d always been good in bed. That whole week and a half of dating, that had gone well.

“Right! Business.” River straightened up, his thumb grazing the edges of his nails as he idly glanced down at them. “Are you busy for the next couple weeks?”

“Er… Busy how?” Zeph straightened up to mirror the pose, smoothing his t-shirt down as if he were about to interview for a damn job.

“Mm.” River gave him a quick appreciative glance up and down, tilting his head.

Oops. Zeph realized the t-shirt was a little small for his size right now.

River’s gaze was on his face again, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “How’d you like a little easy security job on the road?”

There was a lot to unpick there. Zeph paused. “Security?”

“My drag show. Not my, but I’m doing it with a few of the other girls. A dozen of us. We’re doing tonight and tomorrow night here in L.A., then ten days in Vegas.”

Zeph nodded slowly, seeing where this was going.

“And we had a few hecklers, a few rowdy obnoxious guys in the front last night. We handled it, but… you know. It’d make us more comfortable to have someone we know is on our side, not the bar’s side.”

“There’s a difference?”

“The bar likes large groups of frat boys who buy a shit-ton of drinks.” River pursed his lips, then shook his head and flipped open his menu. He instantly flipped it shut and put it down. “Oh, why bother? I know what I’m having.”

“What’s that?”

“Belgian waffle, all the toppings.”

Oh, God. That sounded incredible.

Cheat day, Zeph reminded himself. And the last few weeks, he hadn’t even really cheated. He was getting boring.

“Even whipped cream…” River teased, his voice low.

Zeph’s gaze snapped up to River’s face, but River wasn’t flicking his tongue out in that dirty, suggestive way. Christ, if he was flirting, he was playing this one slowly. Zeph decided to gloss over the comment. “I’ll have that, too. So, the payment terms?”

“That… would be the sticky part.”

“Hopefully literally.” Zeph couldn’t resist the immature comment. River brought it out in everyone he was around if they were so inclined to think that way. And it was a relief to be as fucking gay as he wanted without a side-eye like he sometimes got from the gym bros.

River winked. “We can cater to those terms. But not many others. We can do… maybe a couple hundred bucks, or a cut of the tips, but that’s dicey for us all. And for Vegas, we can carpool. I’ll pay for gas if you drive, or I’ll drive us. And you can share a room with one of us—probably me, since we…”

“Yeah. Know each other.”

“Know each other,” River echoed, and to his credit, he only slightly drawled the first word, though he was smirking as he sipped his coffee. “And we’ll cover food, too. Basically, free Vegas trip. I know there’s fights there you could see.”

That was exactly where Zeph’s mind had gone, right after he’d ripped it away from the image of them sharing a cheap hotel room.

He wasn’t sure exactly who was fighting there, but there was bound to be someone. At the very least, he could drop by the local gyms.

In his position, looking for training jobs he hadn’t really earned, he couldn’t turn down the chance to network. A bit of gambling money, memorable times with River and his ever-interesting circle of friends, maybe a favor or two if the mood was right…

What the hell? Zeph had nothing to lose.

“Yeah. I’ll do it.”