Page 71 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

“Come on,” he said, eyes back on me. “Let me take you out. Properly.”

There it was. The suave Kyle I knew.

“No.” I didn’t even hesitate.

Kyle tilted his head slightly. “No?”

“No,” I repeated, already stepping back. “I’m playing.”

And before he could say anything else, I turned and walked back onto the court, rotating my right arm like I knew what I was doing or that it settled everything.

But it didn’t. Because I could still feel him from behind.

Watching.

I forced myself to focus as Andi served, the game picking up again like nothing happened.

Except everything had.

A few minutes later, I glanced toward the sidelines.

And there he was. Sitting now. Elbows resting on his knees, body relaxed, like he had nowhere else to be.

And when our eyes met—he didn’t look away. He just leaned back slightly… and spread his legs. Then, his hand moved, gently caressing his crotch.

Slow. Casual. Intentional.

Like an invitation he didn’t need to say out loud.

My grip tightened around the racket.

Stop! I said to my hardening… life.

I looked away immediately, trying to focus on the game again.

But I missed an easy shot.

“James!” Mel groaned.

“Sorry,” I muttered, eyeing Kyle again who wasn’t taking his stare off me and his hand off his crotch.

My mind suddenly wasn’t on the game anymore. Because even from across the court—I could feel it.

That pull.

That familiar, dangerous pull I knew better than to follow.

And somehow, avoiding only made it worse.

Sunday brunch felt less like a meal and more like an event you had to dress correctly for.

From the outside, the café named Clubhaus looked like it belonged in a magazine spread.

A clean, low-lying structure wrapped in bold green, with its name stamped unapologetically across the façade—CLUBHAUS—like it already knew people were coming for it. The color alone made it stand out against everything else on the street. Intentional. Confident. The kind of place that didn’t need neon signs or gimmicks because the aesthetic was the statement.

Inside, it was a different kind of luxury.

Sunlight filtered through textured glass blocks, breaking into soft patterns that moved across the floor like the room itself was breathing. Everything felt curated but not crowded—clean beige walls, muted greens, warm wood tones, and furniture that looked simple, until you realized every piece was chosen on purpose.