“I’m good going for that long. I have decent stamina.”

Mal huffs a small laugh. “Yeah, unlike everyone else tonight. Think that Van Damme guy lasted, like, five thrusts.”

Rowan’s lips curl into a smile. He doesn’t really like shitting on people, but the other men who were part of the gangbang were pretty terrible across the board for a long list of reasons.

“Yeah. Kinda surprising for an exclusive club. Thought people’d be better.”

“You’d be surprised,” Mal muses. He pops a stray home fry into his mouth, and Rowan has no idea where he’s putting all that food. “Thought you were gonna deck that blond kid at the end.”

“I don’t like sharing.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, judging by the quick pulse of Mal’s eyebrows toward his nose.

“To be clear,” Mal says, steeling his face. “We ain’t exclusive. Either way. I’m good with barebacking for everything as long as we’re both clean, but if one of us fucks someone else before our next test, we use condoms. That good with you?”

“Yeah, of course. Sorry, didn’t mean it like that.”

He is okay with it. Really. Though even as high as his sex drive is, it’s unlikely that Rowan’s going to want to fuck anyone else, knowing what’s—who’s—going to be waiting for him come Saturday.

Feeling like their discussion is coming to an end, Rowan closes his Notes app and swipes to his contacts, asking, “What’s your number?”

Mal tells him, and Rowan enters each digit silently yet punctuated by the rapid staccato of his heart. He types out Mal’s first name, realizing as he does that Mal knows his last name, but not vice versa. “Hey, what’s your last name?”

“You a fuckin’ phone book or something?”

“Just asking.”

Mal huffs and looks away, and Rowan’s starting to pick up on his mannerisms, including avoiding eye contact when he’s hesitant about something.

“Savaryn,” he mutters, like it’s something to be ashamed of.

And maybe it is, based on what Sheila had said earlier. Sins of the father. Rowan wonders if Mr. Savaryn is as shitty a dad as Hank was.

“Thanks” is all he replies, opting not to make a big deal of it. Because it isn’t. Family’s what you choose for yourself, not what you’re born into.

He obviously can’t take a picture of Mal, so the contact icon remains, sadly, a flat green circle with MS inside. He sends Mal a quick text so he has Rowan’s number too. It hits him now, with Mal’s number safely saved in his contacts and a one-line convo going, that this is actually real. He’s actually gonna get to fuck him again, hopefully multiple times if he doesn’t screw anything up.