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“I can when I focus.”

“Wow, all right then,” he says, leaning into his curiosity. “Show me this magical room that makes Skyler James still.”

Skyler rolls his eyes, but he scoots back his chair and stands, holding out his hand. When Trevor takes it, he tries hard to ignore how his entire body thrums pleasantly as Skyler leads him away.

SKYLER

“Okay, so the roomdoes exist. Now let’s see you use it.”

Skyler laughs, as Trevor takes in the large, mostly empty room. He hopes it doesn’t look too pretentious to him.

There are cushions stacked against one wall, as well as multiple yoga mats rolled up and sitting on a low teakwood shelf. The only décor is a Himalayan salt sculpture in the corner, two mandala paintings hung on one wall, and the black silk curtains over the windows. There’s also a TV mounted to the other wall, but that’s only for when he wants to follow a guided class. He mostly leads himself in his practices at this point.

“You want to watch me meditate?” he asks.

“No, I want to watch you do yoga,” Trevor says.

“I—That’s not what—Why?” he sputters.

“Because it’ll be an incredible sight to see. C’mon, show me a downward dog.”

“Are you trying to sound dirty or is that the only yoga pose you know?”

Trevor shrugs sheepishly. “Both.”

He shakes his head fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

The second the words slip from Trevor’s mouth, they both freeze. A spike of adrenaline shoots through Skyler’s veins.

Trevor coughs. “C’mon, c’mon. Bend over. I’ve got to see it to believe it.”

“You’re supposed to do other stretches first,” Skyler grumbles, his cheeks heating. “And you’re not supposed to be wearing jeans.”

He’s not going to mention how he’s stuffed himself full of Chinese food, making it an even less ideal time for yoga. Instead, he unrolls a purple mat and pulls off his socks before stepping onto the bottom edge.

Because Trevor rarely asks for things, and when he does, Skyler can’t deny him. Not when he always asked for so much himself, and Trevor spent five years making sure he gave Skyler every single thing he wanted. Everything that was in Trevor’s power to give him, at least.

He hinges at the waist and places his palms on the mat, walking his hands out until he’s in the right position, hips up high. His tank top flips over his head, leaving his entire torso exposed. And his hamstrings burn a little because he hasn’t stretched properly, but he keeps his legs straight anyway. It gives him a tiny thrill to present Trevor with the view of his ass.

The man did ask for this, after all.

And maybe it’s more than Trevor bargained for, because when Skyler hears, “Fine, I guess you weren’t lying about the yoga,” from behind him, Trevor’s voice is noticeably huskier than it was a minute ago.

He barely manages to hold back his smirk, entirely too pleased with himself as he slowly stands up, letting his top fall back into place on its own. He faces Trevor and raises an eyebrow. “Your turn?”

“Ha! Not a chance.”

“I didn’t think so. Let’s go finish our food.”

The mood is lighter when they sit back down, but even as they’re making easy conversation about things they’ve watched or read or listened to lately, Skyler’s brain is running off in a hundred different directions. It’s nice how this has become easier between them, but he knows it can never be the same as it was, and that leaves a stabbing feeling of pain in his chest.

But still, being around Trevor again makes him feel less likeSkyler Jamesand more like himself. A guy who’s just doing his best in life, trying to be happy. All the money in his bank account doesn’t matter. The number of albums he’s sold doesn’t matter.

No. Right now he’s simply a guy, sitting at a table across from another guy, thinking that if every night could be like this—even if they’re doing nothing more than talking—it would be enough.

If walking away from the rest of his life meant he got to keep Trevor with him all the time, he might just do it. And that should probably scare him more than it does.