I snag a croissant and sit down at the long table, eyeing the trays stacked with waffles, eggs, fruit, and what looks like a whole forest’s worth of pastries. Chace’s already mid-bite into a waffle dripping with syrup, and Sam is alternating between chugging orange juice and stealing strawberries from Trey’s plate.
The villa is buzzing—low music playing from someone’s phone, the coffee machine whirring, trays of food clattering as Sam rifles through them like he’s been starved for days. The smell of syrup, bacon, and fresh waffles wraps around me like a hug, and I settle into the barstool with a grin already pulling at my lips.
I glance across the table, eyes landing on Trey mid-sip of his coffee.
“So,” I say casually, too sweet to be innocent, “how’s your dick?”
Chace chokes so violently juice sprays out of his nose, Sam starts coughing, and Logan nearly dies on his croissant.
Trey? He doesn’t flinch. Just smirks and sets his mug down. “Still attached. Still magnificent.”
“Yeah, but is it... bedazzled?” I press, chin in my hand. “You went for the full piercing experience, right? Please tell me it’s something pink and glittery.”
Sam wheezes. “Glittery?!”
Trey leans in, grinning wickedly. “Picture a tiny disco ball. Maybe I’ll add a sparkly little ‘K’ charm… For kinky.”
Chace groans like he’s in pain. “You people need help.”
Logan slides into the seat beside me like it’s his throne, damp hair curling at the ends, towel hanging around his neck, greyjoggers slung low in a way that should be illegal. He nabs a waffle and leans back, eyes glinting with lazy heat.
“You want me to get one, baby?” he asks, voice smooth. “Just know—if I do, you’re the one worshipping me on your knees.”
I arch a brow, lips curving around a bite of croissant. “Depends. Will it be glittery and personalized?”
He grins. “Gold. Classy.”
Trey laughs. “Your dick is not classy, man.”
Logan shrugs, popping a strawberry into his mouth. “It has standards.”
“Oh my God,” I mutter through a laugh, hiding behind my coffee mug. “How is this my life?”
“Because you love it,” Logan murmurs near my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “You love me. And you especially love my—”
“Okay!” Chace says loudly, fork raised like a warning. “New rule. No dick talk until I’ve at least eaten my damn breakfast.”
Sam nods solemnly. “Seconded.”
Logan chuckles and drapes an arm over the back of my chair, fingers brushing my neck in slow, lazy strokes that make it hard to think about anything else.
I peek up at him, still grinning. “You’d actually get your dick pierced for me?”
He leans in with a wink. “Baby, I’d walk through Hell for you. And if it meant making you laugh like that again? I’d bedazzle the damn thing myself.”
Trey raises his mug. “To bedazzled bellends.”
Chace groans. “Fucking festivals make everyone weird.”
“Not everyone.” Sam objects.
I shift in my seat, resting my chin in my hand as the conversation drifts. “Oh—Trey,” I say suddenly, glancing up at him. “I meant to tell you. When Logan and I were out last night, Isaw that bakery you love on 8th—they have a stall here. And your favorite—red velvet brownies.”
Trey lifts his mug, pausing mid-sip.
“But… we kinda got distracted.” I shoot a sheepish smile toward Logan, who arches a brow, clearly amused. “And then I didn’t see them on the way back, or I would’ve grabbed some for you. Sorry. I know how much you love them. I’ll try again today, promise.”
The room stills.
