Page 219 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1
Malia bangs a spoon on the counter like a gong. “All hail the queen!”
Meanwhile, the guys?
Totally confused.
Blake leans toward Ethan. “Why are they yelling?”
Walt frowns. “Is it a code? Is there an op?”
Rigel deadpans, “You don’t want it to be an op.”
Gabe strolls past them, smug as ever. “It’s a scoreboard…”
Hank doesn’t even glance up from his coffee. “For orgasms.”
Silence.
Stunned, male realization silence.
Blake blinks. “Wait. You mean like?—”
“They’re keeping track,” Gabe confirms.
“Publicly,” Walt mutters, staring at the board like it personally offended him.
Carter whistles, low and admiring. “So that’s what all the pink chalk is about.”
“They started a competition,” Hank says, setting his cup down with quiet finality. “Didn’t think we’d notice. Or care.”
“They were wrong,” Ethan says flatly.
“We should make them work for it,” Hank adds, deceptively casual. “Withhold for a while. Let them sweat.”
Every man pauses.
Considers.
Then, collectively?—
“Oh, hell no,” Walt says, shaking his head.
“Not a chance,” Carter echoes.
Blake runs a hand down his face. “That’s not strategy. That’s suffering.”
Rigel smirks. “We’re competitors. Not monsters.”
Hank lifts a brow, just slightly. “So… we’re doing this?”
Gabe’s grin is all teeth. “With extreme prejudice.”
“Gentlemen,” Walt murmurs, cracking his knuckles. “It’s game time.”
And just like that, the atmosphere shifts.
Heavy. Electric. Intentional.
At the counter, the girls slowly fall quiet.
