By Linc
The boutique hummed with quiet luxury, sunlight fading through tinted glass as Tyler strode in — 28, lacrosse jock, tank top clinging to a sweat-slick chest from a neighborhood jog, shorts slung low on his hips with casual swagger. His damp hair was tousled, his grin easy as his eyes roamed the showroom’s sleek steel displays.
“Weirdest store I’ve seen yet,” he muttered, half-laughing at the thought of furniture this bizarre.
Behind the counter, Liam — mid-thirties, athletic, dark hair swept back — watched him with an amused eye. A black button-up hugged his frame, sleeves rolled high to reveal corded forearms. “First timer?” he asked, voice smooth as silk, sizing Tyler up like a prize.
Tyler chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, just looking. Caught a glimpse through the window — thought it was a joke.”
“Not a joke,” Liam said, grin widening. “High-end build–aircraft-grade aluminum, wheels for mobility.”