Yes he does!

You finish the drink almost without realizing it. The last swallow burns just a little as it goes down, bitter and sweet at the same time, and when you lower the empty cup, your fingers feel lighter than they should. Your head tilts back against the pool edge, eyes closing for half a second as warmth spreads through your chest and down your spine.

“Oookay,” you murmur, laughing softly. “That one’s… strong.”

Trent notices immediately. He pushes off the wall again, drifting closer, water rolling lazily around his toned shoulders. “That was your first one?” he asks, tone casual but eyes sharp.

You nod, blinking at him. “Yeah, never drank before, so I guess it just hits harder.”

He smiles like that’s the best answer you could’ve given. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Jamal straightens beside you. “Hey,” he says, reaching for the empty cup. “That’s probably enough for...”

“It’s fine,” you cut in easily, waving a hand, you don’t even realize how relaxed your voice sounds. “I feeeel great.”

You glance at Jamal and grin, wide and open. “You worry too much.”

For a split second, he looks caught off guard.

Then he exhales through his nose, eyes lingering on you in a way that’s quieter now. “Yeah,” he says slowly, “Maybe.”

Trent chuckles under his breath.

“Let him breathe Jamal,” he says, lifting his arms onto the pool edge near you, showing of how muscular they are. Not blocking you in or anything, he's just… there. His forearm rests close to your side, dark skin slick with water, heat radiating even through the pool. “He’s got a good vibe going.”

You laugh again, shoulders lifting. “See? He gets it.”

Jamal’s jaw tightens, just a little, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he shifts closer at your side, presence solid, unmistakable.

Trent’s gaze drops briefly, openly appreciative, following the way your wet pale skin glistens from the light and his eyes go further down your body. The water has done exactly what Jamal promised it would. The suit molds to every curve, every soft line, every movement amplified when you shift your hips against the pool wall.

“You carry yourself different when you’re relaxed,” Trent says. “Looks good on you.”

Your face warms, but you don’t look away this time. “You always talk like that?”

He grins. “Only when it’s true.”

Taylor swims past again, splashing lightly. “You’re killing him,” he says to Trent, laughing. “Look at him.”

“I’m fine,” you protest, but you’re smiling too much to sound convincing.

Trent tilts his head. “You sure?”

You nod, then nod again, slower. “Yeah. I like it here.”

His hand lifts, slow, deliberate, and settles briefly at your thick waist, dark fingers spreading just enough to steady you when you shift your weight against them. It’s not possessive, or as if he is grabbing you, but just confident contact, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jamal’s arm tightens at your other side, closer now, his voice low near your ear. “You good?”

You lean to the side without thinking, shoulder brushing his arm. “Yeah,” you say softly, “Promise.”

That does something to him and Trent notices.

The air between them sharpens, its not aggressive, nor loud, just charged. Two dominant black men very aware they’re standing in the same space, both watching and wanting the same prey and reading every reaction.

Trent pulls his hand back from your waist first, smile still easy. “Alright,” he says lightly. “I’ll behave.”

His eyes linger on you as he pushes away from the wall. “For now.”

You laugh, watching him glide back into the pool, muscles flexing effortlessly as he moves.

Jamal stays close, very close, his thick muscular arm now draped around your back, holding you in place and against his warm dark skin.

And even if you don’t fully understand why your heart is beating faster than the music...

you know one thing for sure:

You don’t want this moment to end, but you start to get a bit hungry for some snacks and more people arrive. So, you should probably get out of the pool, at least for now.