The next few days felt like walking a tightrope of desire and secrecy. During the day, they acted normal—Saint at the garage fixing cars, Joshua at his studio editing photos. But every text, every “see you tonight,” carried a new weight. The secret burned between them, hot and thrilling.
One evening after work, Joshua showed up at the garage just as Saint was closing up. The place was empty, tools put away, the big bay door halfway down.
“Hey,” Joshua said, leaning against the doorframe, looking unfairly good in ripped jeans and a loose tank top. “Missed you.”
Saint wiped his hands on a rag, eyes raking over him. “Get in here.”
The second the door rolled shut, they were on each other. Saint pushed Joshua against the cool metal wall of the garage, kissing him like he’d been starving for
