Page 22 of Full Tilt (Love The Game #4)
Before I can type a response, Connor jumps in.
Connor:
Camden, don’t do it. The man once got a guy’s post code and showed up with homemade banana bread and a six-pack.
Cosmo:
And he ate all of it, so you’re welcome. Also, banana bread is a love language.
Brayden:
What isn’t a love language in your world?
Cosmo:
Chaos. But like, affectionate chaos.
I sigh and give in, thumbs flying across the screen.
Me:
Exeter.
Cosmo’s response is immediate.
Cosmo:
NO WAY.
Cosmo:
My big brother just moved there a few weeks ago.
Cosmo:
You two should totally meet. He’s been kind of a lonely bastard lately.
My eyebrows shoot up. Oh no.
Cosmo:
Actually, he’s been talking about someone he’s into…
Cosmo:
Thinks it’s unrequited.
I jerk forwards a little.
Cosmo:
Maybe you could keep him company until his next visit home. You could totally step up and be the big brother he never had.
Cosmo:
Obviously you can’t keep him. Well, unless you delve into a world of incest.
I choke on nothing—just the idea of that message lodges in my throat like a brick. I slap the phone facedown on the kitchen counter and stare at it like it just insulted my entire bloodline.
Fuck my life. Cosmo is matchmaking me, right?
To Brent.
Without even knowing it’s me.
Without knowing Brent already spent the night here. Without knowing Brent’s cock was pressed to my leg this morning while I debated whether I had it in me to wake him up with a blow job.
Cosmo:
Holy shit. We could become brothers. Totally calling best man rights.
Brayden:
Mate… there’s something seriously wrong with you.
I groan into my hands. My chest is on fire in equal parts embarrassment, awe, and pure disbelief. I peek at the phone again.
Connor:
Camden? You okay, or did Cosmo’s matchmaking finally kill you?
Honestly? Maybe. Because he’s talking about me . I’m the crush. Shit, I am, right? The guy Brent thinks isn’t interested. The guy Cosmo thinks could step in and be the “big brother he never had.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
I set the phone down, my mind racing. The coincidence is almost too much, but the warmth building in my chest tells me it’s real.
Just then, the intercom buzzes. I jolt like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t—because, in a way, I have. I press the button, and Brent’s voice crackles through. “Hey, it’s me.”
I buzz him in, then unlock the door, picking my phone back up and staring at it like it might reach out and slap me.
Brent enters a few moments later, balancing a tray with two large containers. “Hope you’re hungry,” he says, kicking the door shut behind him.
I blink at him, still holding my phone like it might combust. “Uh… yeah. Just…” I show him the screen. “So, funny story.”
His brows lift as he reads the messages, and then recognition flickers in his eyes. “Ah. Cosmo.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. Still hard to believe I know him.”
Brent chuckles, clearly amused. “The universe really said ‘plot twist,’ huh?”
“Plot twist that ends in a mild heart attack.” I sit on the stool at the breakfast bar. “He was literally matchmaking us without knowing it was us.”
“Don’t worry.” Brent’s voice is low and warm as he sets the coffee on the counter. “I won’t say anything.”
There’s a pause. My throat feels thick, my heart climbing into it. “Yet,” I say, barely more than a whisper.
Brent turns, really looking at me, and something flickers in his expression—quiet and unshakable.
Hope, yeah. But also something steadier.
Something that feels a lot like belief. Not just in the possibility of us, but in me.
As though he’s seeing all the parts I keep locked up and choosing to trust that I’ll let them out when I’m ready.
And the fucked-up thing? I want to. I really want to.
So much has changed since yesterday. And not just the sex—though, Jesus, I still feel the echo of his body against mine, the way he gave it to me so good and so right that I still have to breathe through the memory or risk getting hard all over again.
But that’s not it. Not the heart of it.
The real shift is how I’d been so sure— so sure —that I was done letting anyone in. I’d built the walls, reinforced them, lived in their shadow.
And now?
He’s here. In my space. Unpacking food like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And I’m sitting here wondering how the hell I went from guarded silence to saying “yet” like there’s a future I’m even willing to imagine.
My chest tightens, nerves crawling across my skin. Maybe he sees it, maybe he just feels it, but Brent doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask questions. He just glides past my awkward moment with easy grace, peeling open the food containers and settling onto the stool next to me.
“Here you go,” he says with a smirk. “Breakfast first. Existential spirals later.”
It makes me laugh—quiet and short, but real. I shuffle beside him, our thighs bumping. I’m still buzzing from Cosmo’s messages, still reeling, and still stunned. But maybe… just maybe I’m not dreading what comes next.
Maybe, for the first time in a long time, I’m kind of looking forward to it. I don’t even care if it makes me a fickle arsehole that all I needed was a good dicking to leave myself open for more. The ache is worth it.