Three

The silence inside the warm cabin of the SUV was deafening, save for the steady, heavy patter of the rain drumming against the windshield.

Avery stared at Leo, his mind frantically spinning. Every protective instinct he had was screaming at him to open the door, step out into the downpour, and walk away. But the cold reality of what Leo had threatened hung in the air like a physical weight. The Sentinel was everything to Maya. It was Avery's only real outlet, too—the one place where his voice actually carried weight.

And then there was Leo. Close enough that Avery could see the dark, shifting intensity in his eyes, the smug confidence radiating off him. Leo was entirely sure he had already won.

Avery hated him for it. He hated how easily Leo could pull his strings.

"You're a monster," Avery breathed, his voice low but steady.

Leo’s grin only widened, a flash of white teeth in the dim dashboard light. "I’m a pragmatist, Sinclair. There's a difference. Now, do we have a deal, or do I make a phone call to my dad?"

Avery clutched his notebook tighter against his chest, his knuckles aching from the force of his grip. "We have rules," he snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Strict ones."

"I'm listening," Leo said, leaning back into his seat, though his eyes never left Avery's face.

"First, this is entirely strictly business. No touching unless we are actively in front of people who need to see it," Avery said, pointing a finger at him. "Second, you do not get to dictate my life. I have my own schedule, and I'm not dropping everything to play your little house-husband.

And third... the second you get your dad off your back, or the second I get my story, we are completely done. No lingering, no 'let's stay friends.' Nothing."

Leo watched him, seemingly amused by the fire in Avery's eyes. "Feisty. I like it. Deal." He extended a broad, calloused hand toward Avery.

Avery stared at the hand for a long moment before reluctantly reaching out. His smaller, lighter hand was completely swallowed by Leo's. The warmth of Leo's palm was startling, a sudden jolt of electricity that made Avery’s breath hitch. He pulled his hand back quickly, clearing his throat and looking out the window to hide the flush creeping up his neck.

"Great," Avery muttered, reaching for the door handle. "Now let me out."

"I'll drive you home," Leo said, shifting the car into drive. "It's pouring, and a good boyfriend wouldn't let his partner walk in a storm."

"I told you, no one is watching us right now," Avery said, exasperated.

"Consider it practice," Leo replied smoothly, pulling the SUV out of the school lot and onto the dark, slick streets.

The drive was silent, filled only with the soft hum of the heater and the rhythmic sweep of the windshield wipers. When they finally pulled up to the curb of Avery's modest, slightly weathered house, the porch light was off.

"Your mom's car isn't here," Leo noted, looking at the empty driveway.

"She works the night shift at the hospital," Avery said shortly, unbuckling his seatbelt. "She’s a head nurse. Not that it's any of your business."

"Just observing." Leo turned his head, his dark gaze tracking Avery as he gathered his things. "See you tomorrow morning, partner. I'll pick you up at eight. Be ready."

"Don't call me that," Avery muttered, slamming the car door behind him and running through the rain to the safety of his porch.

Inside, the house was dark, quiet, and cool. Avery locked the door behind him and leaned his back against it, letting out a long, shaky breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His chest was tight.

He walked down the short hallway to the bathroom, turning on the dim light over the mirror. Avery pulled off his damp hoodie, leaving him in a thin white t-shirt. He looked at his reflection—messy hair, glasses slightly fogged up, and a face that looked far too stressed for a seventeen-year-old.

Slowly, his eyes drifted down. He gripped the hem of his shirt, pulling it up slightly to look at his abdomen. Only his mother knew the truth of what lay beneath his clothes—the private, delicate medical reality of his intersex body. It was a secret he guarded with a fierce, quiet desperation. If the school found out, if the jocks in Leo's circle got wind of it... he’d be ruined.

He let the shirt fall back down, swallowing hard. Just play the part, he told himself. Get the story, save the paper, and get out before he gets too close.

The next morning, the rain had cleared, leaving behind a crisp, cool autumn breeze. At exactly 7:58 AM, the low rumble of Leo's SUV sounded outside Avery's house.

Avery took a deep breath, adjusted his glasses, and walked out.

When he climbed into the passenger seat, Leo was wearing his red-and-white varsity jacket, looking every bit the popular athlete. He glanced at Avery, a slow, knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"You look like you're going to an execution," Leo teased.

"I am," Avery replied flatly.

By the time they pulled into the school parking lot, the campus was buzzing. It was the peak of the morning rush—students crowding the courtyard, sitting on the steps, and hanging out by their lockers.

Leo parked the SUV in his usual reserved spot near the front entrance. He turned off the engine and looked at Avery. "Ready to make some news, Sinclair?"

"Just get it over with," Avery said, his heart beginning to hammer against his ribs.

They got out of the car at the same time. Instantly, a few heads turned. Leo Vance arriving with the quiet, cynical reporter from the school paper was not a normal sight.

Leo walked around the front of the hood, his long strides easily closing the distance between them. Before Avery could protest, Leo reached out, wrapping his large, warm hand firmly around Avery's.

Avery stiffened, his fingers instinctively twitching, but Leo’s grip was solid, unyielding. Leo leaned down, his face entirely too close to Avery's ear, his warm breath sending a shiver straight down Avery's spine.

"Smile, Avery," Leo murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble that only Avery could hear. "Everyone is looking."

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