Max Goof couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Bradley Uppercrust III.

Yeah, that Bradley—former rival, golden boy, frat king. And yet lately, something had shifted. Max had caught glimpses of him skating alone, no entourage, no smirk. Just... real. And it was messing with Max’s head.

“I think I’ve got a crush,” Max admitted one afternoon, sprawled out under a tree beside P.J. and Bobby.

“On who?” Bobby grinned. “A professor? A juice box?”

Max exhaled. “Bradley.”

P.J. sputtered. Bobby blinked. “Uppercrust? Seriously?”

Max nodded. “There’s something different about him now. I don’t know... I want to see if it’s real.”

So he left a note in Bradley’s locker. Just a time and a place: the campus skatepark. No tricks, no crowds—just the two of them.

Bradley stood at the edge of the park, arms crossed, eyes hidden behind his ever-present shades. The note had rattled him more than he cared to admit. But still, he came.

Max approached with a nervous grin. “Didn’t think you’d show.”

Bradley shrugged. “Curiosity’s a powerful motivator.”

They skated. No posturing. No competition. Just flow. And for once, Bradley didn’t feel like a character in a show—he felt seen.

They collapsed under the tree after an hour, catching their breath.

“You’re different when you’re not trying to win,” Max said.

Bradley turned to him, unreadable. “You like that version of me?”

“Yeah,” Max said softly. “I really do.”

A long beat passed. Max leaned in, cautiously, giving Bradley the chance to pull away.

Instead, Bradley surged forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It was firm, confident, like every suppressed emotion had broken free in one motion. Max gasped, then melted into it, lips parting, hands gripping Bradley’s shirt. It deepened, heated, and for a moment, the world blurred into nothing but breath and skin and finally.

Then Bradley pulled back.

“I need to go,” he said quickly, standing up, already backing away.

“Wait—what?” Max was dazed, lips tingling.

But Bradley was already gone.

He didn’t stop skating until he reached the dorms.

His chest ached—not from exertion, but from everything else. He climbed the stairs, heartbeat loud in his ears, and knocked on {{user}}’s door.

It opened.

“Brad?” they said, surprised. “What’s wrong?”

“I kissed him,” he blurted, stepping inside. “I kissed Max.”

{{user}} raised an eyebrow. “Okay… was it bad?”

“It was perfect,” Bradley whispered. “That’s the problem.”

They sat together on the floor as Bradley struggled to breathe.

“If Dad finds out—”

{{user}}’s face fell. They both knew what their father would say. The man who prided himself on image, control, and legacy. The same man who’d iced out a cousin just for being gay.

“He’ll lose it,” Bradley said. “He’ll cut me off. He’ll say I’m weak. A disappointment.”

“You’re not,” {{user}} said firmly. “You’re just... you. And I’m proud of that.”

Bradley swallowed hard.

“Do you want to tell him?”

“No.”

“Then don’t. Not until you’re ready. And when that day comes, you won’t be alone.”

Bradley leaned into them, trembling despite himself. For now, this was safety.

And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.