Theo exhaled one last long, trembling breath, his shoulders finally loosening as the flush on his face faded to a soft pink. He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, testing their responsiveness like someone waking from a trance, then glanced sideways at Kota with a sheepish half-smile. The near-crash had left the McLaren idling crookedly at the curb, hazard lights blinking in quiet apology to the passing traffic. A few drivers slowed to stare, but Theo seemed oblivious, his attention locked entirely on Kota.
"Sorry about that," Theo murmured, voice still a little unsteady. "I just… wasn't expecting the hug. It hit different."
Kota raised an eyebrow, settling back into the passenger seat. "Different how? We've literally had sex. Multiple times. Rough sex. You weren't this rattled then."
Theo's blush returned in a faint wave, but this time it came with a small, giddy laugh. "Yeah, but that was… different context. Physical. This was—" He gestured vaguely between them, then shook his head as if the words were too slippery to catch. "Never mind. It's stupid. I'm good now. Promise."
He checked his mirrors, eased off the brake, and guided the car back into the flow of traffic with careful precision. The giddy energy that had been simmering beneath the embarrassment bubbled up fully now. Theo's grin widened, bright and unguarded, the kind of smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and showed the slight gap between his front teeth. He kept stealing glances at Kota, then forcing his gaze back to the road like a kid trying not to look at Christmas presents.
"You're smiling like you just won something," Kota observed, amusement creeping into his tone despite himself.
"Maybe I did." Theo's voice was lighter than it had been all morning.
"You hugged me. Voluntarily. In daylight. Not during sex, not because I begged, not because things got heated. Just… because. That's new. Feels good."
Kota looked out the window at the passing strip malls and billboards, letting the words settle. Theo was right—it had been spontaneous, unprompted. No agenda behind it, no lust-fueled momentum. Just gratitude, plain and simple. And yeah, maybe that was new for both of them. In the whirlwind of the Hawthornes' world—where every interaction seemed layered with seduction, power plays, or Beckett-level strangeness—a straightforward thank-you hug felt almost radical.
He had to admit it: Theo was a good guy. Not perfect, not immune to the entitlement that came with growing up absurdly wealthy, but genuinely kind in a way that stood out against the rest of his family. Grayson pushed boundaries for fun. Elliot chased thrills and validation. Beckett existed in his own orbit of clinical obsession. Theo, though? Theo showed up. He listened. He solved problems without making Kota feel indebted or small. He'd just called his intimidating father, spun a believable lie on the spot, and driven across town before breakfast was cold—all to keep Kota from getting caught in his own web of bullshit.
Kota relaxed deeper into the leather seat, tension bleeding out of his shoulders for the first time since he'd bolted from the apartment. The McLaren's cabin was quiet except for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional chirp of the navigation system. Sunlight streamed through the tinted windows, warming the interior without making it stuffy. Outside, Houston unfolded in its usual patchwork: low-slung warehouses giving way to newer subdivisions, palm trees swaying against a pale winter sky, the distant shimmer of heat already rising off the asphalt even though it was barely past nine.
Theo kept talking—half to Kota, half to himself—as they merged onto the freeway. His voice had that animated cadence again, the one that surfaced whenever he got to explain something he cared about. He rambled about the Chester Mall project's timeline, the challenges of building on expansive clay soil, the city's permitting delays, the rooftop solar array that would offset 40 percent of the mall's energy use. Kota only half-listened, content to let the words wash over him like background music. The details didn't matter as much as the fact that Theo was sharing them freely, without posturing or expectation. It felt… normal. Comfortable. Rare.
Eventually the skyline shifted. Downtown's glass towers receded in the rearview, replaced by sprawling industrial zones and then, abruptly, open land. Theo took an exit marked "Chester Blvd East," and the McLaren slowed as they approached a massive chain-link perimeter fence topped with razor wire. A temporary sign read "Chester Mall Redevelopment – Hawthorne Investments – No Trespassing – Hard Hat Area."
Theo pulled up to the security gate. A uniformed guard stepped out of the booth, clipboard in hand. Theo rolled down the window, flashed a quick smile, and handed over a laminated pass. The guard glanced at it, then at Kota in the passenger seat, nodded once, and waved them through. The gate rattled open.
They drove onto the site proper.
The scale hit Kota immediately. One hundred acres of graded dirt stretched out in front of them, a vast, leveled plain under the winter sun. In the center sat the bean-shaped foundation—a gigantic oval footprint poured in pale gray concrete, easily the size of several football fields. Steel columns rose from it in orderly rows, skeletal and skeletal, waiting for the next phase of framing. Cranes swung overhead, their long arms moving with slow, deliberate grace. Flatbed trucks rumbled across the dirt, hauling rebar bundles and pallets of metal panels. Workers in high-visibility vests and hard hats swarmed the site—maybe a hundred of them, maybe more—scattered across different zones. Some welded beams with bright blue-white sparks; others guided massive wall sections into place with hand signals and shouted commands. The air carried the sharp scent of ozone, diesel, and hot metal.
Theo eased the McLaren to a stop in a designated visitor parking area near a cluster of construction trailers. He killed the engine and turned to Kota, grin still in place but tempered now with quiet pride.
"So… this is it. About eight percent complete, give or take. Foundation's done, vertical steel's going up, envelope's starting—those metal wall panels you see being installed. Ramirez said they're on track for the retail podium by summer if the weather cooperates. What do you think? Will this work for your pics?"
Kota stared out the windshield, taking it all in. The chaos was organized, purposeful. Real people doing real work. Cameras wouldn't have to lie much; he could snap shots of beams, workers, the foundation—frame them tight enough to look like he belonged. Khalil would see sweat, steel, effort. Exactly what he wanted to see.
Kota reached over and patted Theo's back once, firm and satisfied. "Yeah. This is going to work. Perfect."
Theo's grin widened again, bright and relieved, and for a moment the two of them just sat there, engine ticking as it cooled, watching the site move around them like a living machine