Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

TRAVIS

T he scent of wildflowers and the rustle of leaves underfoot created a symphony of summer that surrounded Parker and I as we hiked along the winding trail. A sheen of sweat glistened on both our foreheads, evidence of the exertion and the heat, but neither of us seemed to mind.

"Man, this is great," I panted, my breath catching up with the pace we had set.

"Absolutely," Parker agreed, his eyes reflecting the vast expanse of blue above us. "David's not much for physical stuff like this. It's nice to have someone to share it with."

I glanced at him, noting how the sunlight played across his dark hair, making it gleam with hints of auburn. "Yeah, I get it. All my buddies are…indoor kind of guys."

"Then it would definitely be hard for them to keep up with you," Parker added with a laugh. His laughter was contagious, and I found myself chuckling along with him.

"Exactly! But you, man, you're keeping pace like a champ."

We reached a clearing, and the view unfolded before us—a tapestry of greenery spread beneath us, dotted with the vibrant colors of wildflowers and the distant shimmer of a lake. We took a moment, side by side, to drink it all in. The breeze carried the fresh scent of earth and water up to us, and I felt something swell within—a sense of contentment and peace.

"David would've been done halfway up," Parker said after a while, his voice softening. "Not that I blame him. Medicine's his thing, not hiking."

"Everyone's got their passions," I replied, nudging him playfully with my elbow. "Mine just happen to align with yours right now."

"Guess I'm lucky then," he said, flashing me a smile that sent an unexpected jolt through my system.

We continued our hike, the conversation flowing as easily as the trail beneath our feet. Talk eventually turned to another passion we shared, sports. "Must be pretty cool getting to work with athletes from the Cubs," Parker commented.

"I'm looking forward to it. They're a great group of guys," I said with a shrug, downplaying the pride I felt in my work. "Helping people get back on their feet, literally, that's the real win for me."

"Can't argue with that," Parker said, nodding in agreement.

Our conversation ebbed and flowed with the terrain, and I found myself savoring every word, every shared laugh. It wasn't often I met someone who could match my energy, both physically and verbally. It was refreshing, thrilling even, and a part of me wondered what it would be like to have this kind of connection with someone all the time.

"Hey, check this out!" I called, veering off the path where a cluster of wild berries hung temptingly from a bush. "Nature's snack bar."

"Are those safe to eat?" Parker asked, a hint of skepticism in his tone.

"Sure, I used to eat these all the time as a kid," I assured him, popping a few into my mouth. "Sweet with a little tang. Try some."

He hesitated a moment longer before joining me, and I watched as his expression shifted from wary to pleasantly surprised. "Not bad, Brooks."

"See? Adventure has its perks." I grinned, feeling oddly victorious.

"We should probably head back soon," Parker mentioned reluctantly as we resumed our hike. "Don't want to overdo it on our first outing."

"Agreed," I said, though a part of me wished we could stretch the day into infinity. "Race you to the bottom?"

"Ha! You're on," he accepted, and suddenly we were both sprinting down the path, laughter trailing behind us like little kids.

We reached the base, breathless and grinning like fools. There was a camaraderie between us now, a bond forged through shared sweat and soil. The sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the ground, signaling the end of our adventure.

The glow of the sunset painted a soft backdrop over the Chicago skyline as Parker and I returned from our hiking excursion. The fast pace of the city welcomed us back to civilization, a stark contrast to the natural serenity we'd just left behind.

"Man, I'm all grimy," Parker chuckled, swiping at his forehead. "Nothing like a good sweat, though."

"Definitely. Hey, why don't we hang out at my place? We can order some dinner, and catch a movie or something," I suggested, hoping he'd agree. "That is, unless you need to get home to David."

"Nah, he's working another double. I'd love to hang out, but I'd kill for a shower first," he admitted, a little sheepishly.

"Got you covered." I drove us back to my condo and pulled into the parking garage. "Follow me," I said as I shut off the engine. I led him into the lobby of my building, the modern decor giving way to an even sleeker elevator.

My place was on the eighth floor, newly remodeled with expansive windows that offered a picturesque view of the city. The open-concept living area boasted a minimalist aesthetic—cool grays and crisp whites offset by warm wooden accents. It was clean, uncluttered, and masculine.

"Nice digs, Travis," Parker whistled appreciatively, taking in the sight.

"Thanks," I replied, feeling a swell of pride. "Make yourself at home. I'll grab you some clothes."

I fetched a pair of gray sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt from my bedroom, laying them out for Parker. "Bathroom's right there when you're ready." I pointed it out.

"Appreciate it," he said, disappearing behind the door.

While he showered, I ordered Chinese food, opting for the usual favorites: kung pao chicken, beef and broccoli, two orders of fried rice, and an extra order of egg rolls. My stomach growled in anticipation.

As I set out plates and silverware, I heard the bathroom door open upstairs, and a few seconds later, Parker emerged. The sight of him nearly knocked the breath from my lungs. He was—stunning. The clothes I'd lent him hung in all the right places, accentuating his athletic build. His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends, and he smelled like the fresh, clean soap I kept stocked in my shower. God, he looked good enough to eat.

"Feeling better?" I managed to croak out, despite the dryness in my throat.

"Much, thanks," he smiled, unaware of the effect he was having on me.

"Food should be here soon," I replied, trying desperately to sound nonchalant.

"Great." Parker settled onto the couch, seemingly at ease.

Excusing myself, I darted to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. The second the door clicked shut, I locked it and leaned against the cool tile, my heart racing. My body had reacted instantly to Parker's presence, and now, trapped in my own arousal, I knew I had to deal with it quickly or spend the night with blue balls.

I stifled a shriek as I stepped under the icy spray. Goose bumps skittered across my skin and my teeth began to chatter, but it had the desired effect and soon, my erection was a thing of the past. I quickly washed away the dirt and sweat of the day then shut off the water. My toenails were blue as I toweled myself off, but at least I'd be able to go back out there and face my friend without embarrassing myself.

I dressed quickly, choosing comfort over style, and rejoined Parker in the living room. The evening stretched ahead of us, filled with the promise of good times, but certain what-if questions kept popping up in my mind. What if Parker was single? What if he felt the same pull towards me that I did towards him? What if every day could be like this? What if he were mine? The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of our dinner and pulling me back to the present. Time to focus on the friendship before me and leave those dangerous what-ifs out of the equation. Despite my rioting thoughts, I played it cool, sauntering over to the door to collect our dinner.

"Chinese is served," I declared, setting the array of containers down on the coffee table with a flourish. The rich aromas of garlic, ginger, and soy sauce filled the room, mingling with the clean scent that lingered around Parker since his shower.

"Perfect timing," he said, his stomach growling audibly as he moved to help unpack the bags. "I'm starving."

"I'm going to get some water. Why don't you pick a movie for us," I suggested. I grabbed two bottles out of the fridge then scooped up the plates and silverware and carried it all back to the living room. Parker had the remote and was browsing through the movie selections.

"Ah, how about this one?" he suggested, settling on an action flick with explosions dominating the preview screen. "Vincent Wilder is incredible in these roles."

"Vincent, huh?" I teased, taking a bite of kung pao chicken and trying to seem nonchalant. "Good choice. He's actually married to my friend, Garrett."

The look on his face was comical, and he nearly dropped the remote. "Oh my God! I didn't know your Garrett was THAT Garrett! The two of them are on the covers of every magazine."

"Yep, that's him," I confirmed, chuckling at his reaction. "They're both great guys, really down to earth. You'd never guess Vincent, or Dean as we call him, is a big movie star when you meet him."

"Wow, that's—that's just wild," Parker marveled, shaking his head in disbelief. "The world's so much smaller than we think."

"Tell me about it," I agreed.

We filled our plates, relaxing on the couch as we ate. Parker had hit play on the movie, but neither of us spent much time watching it. Instead, we talked, our conversation flowing naturally, effortlessly. We talked about everything and nothing—our favorite foods, music, embarrassing moments—each story spinning into the next. Laughter came easily, punctuated by comfortable silences that weren't awkward, just peaceful.

It wasn't until the credits rolled and the screen faded to black that Parker glanced at his watch and let out a surprised noise. "Is it really that late?" he asked, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.

"Time flies," I murmured, hesitant for the night to end. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

"Actually, I'll just grab an Uber," Parker replied, reaching for his phone. "Don't want to put you out any more than I already have."

"Hey, it's no trouble at all," I insisted, but he was already typing away, securing his ride. We tidied up the remnants of our meal. The app chimed, indicating his ride was outside, and Parker stood, stretching in a way that made the fabric of my shirt tighten across his chest. I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze upward.

"Thanks for tonight, Travis," he said softly, a smile touching his lips. "It was a lot more fun than spending the evening alone again."

"Yeah, it can get lonely sometimes with no one else around," I replied, sharing a truth that I'd never told anyone else. My friends all thought I was out every night, living it up, and for a long time, that's what I'd done, but somewhere along the way, something had changed for me, and those wild nights no longer held the same appeal. Still, it was nice having someone to talk to rather than watching TV by myself all night.

He hesitated at the door, looking like he wanted to say more, but instead, he just clasped my shoulder briefly before stepping out into the hallway. I watched from the doorway as he disappeared around the corner, the warmth of his hand still lingering like a promise.

Closing the door, I leaned against it, the silence of the condo enveloping me. Outside, the city buzzed with life, but inside, something palpable was missing—the sound of Parker's laughter, the light in his smile, the companionship that had filled the space so completely just minutes before.

I pushed off from the door and wandered over to the window, peering out at the city lights below. Chicago was alive, a constant thrumming heartbeat that matched my own erratic pulse. People were out there living, laughing, loving—and here I was, standing alone in the aftermath of an evening that had shifted something inside me.

"Damn it," I muttered, raking a hand through my hair. It was strange, this ache for company. For his company. Because it wasn't just anyone I missed—it was Parker, with his soft-spoken words and thoughtful gray eyes that seemed to see right through my playful fa?ade. He'd laughed at my jokes, indulged in my stories, and for a few hours, made me feel like I was part of something more than just a passing connection.

In the solitude of my condo, I could almost imagine him still here—a ghostly figure on my couch, head thrown back in laughter at some ridiculous anecdote I'd shared. I let out a humorless chuckle. This was new territory for me, craving the echo of a laugh, the warmth of a gaze, the easy companionship that had come as naturally as breathing.

I moved mechanically around the room, turning off the TV that we'd barely watched, gathering up the empty water bottles. Each action felt deliberate, an attempt to bring order to the chaos of emotions swirling inside me.

But as I looked over at the bathroom door, remembering the steam that had seeped out earlier, the vision of Parker emerging fresh and somehow even more irresistible in my clothes—"Shit," I swore softly.

Independent. That was what I was—what I prided myself on being. Yet, the thought of that door opening again, of Parker strolling out with a smile meant just for me, sent a jolt of longing through my veins that was anything but independent.

The night had felt so right, so damn perfect, and now the absence of him was a cold contrast that seeped into my bones. Parker just fit, at work, with my friends, in my home. Like he was a piece I hadn't known was missing from the puzzle of my life. But there was one problem, and it was a major one. He wasn't mine. His heart belonged to someone else.