It was Friday afternoon, and it had been an eventful week for Jake. The twenty-two year old soldier had spent the previous weekend at a gay bathhouse in the city, where his 6’1” frame clad in the 180 pounds of solid muscle the army had sculpted made him the obvious object of desire for every other man he encountered. He had enjoyed a weekend of endless anonymous sex with more men than he could count. But he also contracted a case of pubic lice which he brought back to the barracks, and which led to everyone in his unit being ordered to shave off their pubic hair. All of this prompted Jake to admit he had spent his leave at the bathhouse, had probably contracted the lice there, and that he was gay. Although his tendency to pop uncontrollable boners when in the communal showers had led most of the men to surmise as much far earlier. But now it was all out in the open. As much as Jake had enjoyed the anonymous sex, he knew that a repeat incident of lice or anything of that nature could end the military career he prized, and so there would be no more weekends for him at the gay bathhouse.
The barracks buzzed with the frantic energy of a looming seventy-two-hour weekend pass. Rifles were locked in the armory, inspection checklists were signed off, and the men quickly changed into civilian clothes. The atmosphere around Jake had shifted into a cautious, quiet neutrality. While he wasn't suddenly everyone's best friend, the overt hostility that arose from the case of lice and the order for the men to shave off their pubic hair had vanished. As Jake packed his duffel bag, his platoon-mate Miller walked past his bunk, paused for a fraction of a second, and offered a terse nod. "Have a good pass, Jake. Don't bring back any passengers."
It was a joke, but without the venom from the week before. Jake managed a small smile. "Not a chance, Miller. See you Monday."
An hour later, Jake was on a civilian transit bus heading toward the city. For the past few months, these trips had been cloaked in an exhausting layer of paranoia and secrecy. He used to look over his shoulder at the bus station, terrified he would spot someone from the base while he transitioned from his military persona to his real self. Now, with the truth fully out in the open, the knot of anxiety that usually twisted in his stomach was entirely gone. The relief of no longer having to live a double life within his unit was overwhelming.
When the bus pulled into the downtown terminal, the city was alive with weekend energy. Jake checked into a quiet boutique hotel, dropped his bags, and showered away the last remnants of the base.
As night fell, he stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar. He thought about the bathhouse from his last visit to the city. The anonymous, chaotic nature of that environment had been an escape from the rigid discipline of the barracks, but it had also brought a wave of chaos that nearly destroyed his military career. He realized he didn't need to hide in the dark corners of the city anymore just to be himself.
He decided to visit a popular, open-air lounge in the city's gay neighborhood instead. The venue was vibrant, filled with music, laughter, and people socializing under string lights. Jake ordered a drink and sat at the bar, taking in the environment without the crushing weight of guilt or fear.
"Hey. Are you from out of town?"
Jake turned to see a man about his age, with an easy smile and a relaxed demeanor, sitting a few stools down.
"Just visiting for the weekend," Jake replied, his voice steady. "I'm stationed about an hour north of here."
The man's eyes lit up with interest, taking in Jake's broad, athletic shoulders and precise posture. "Military? That must be intense."
"It has its moments," Jake smiled, feeling a genuine sense of pride. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel the need to lie about his job to fit into the gay community, nor did he feel the need to hide his sexuality to survive in the military. The two halves of his identity, which had fought so bitterly against each other in the barracks, were finally coexisting.
The other man offered a handshake. “My name is Marcus. Great to meet you.”
“And I’m Jake. The pleasure is mine.”
They struck up a casual, engaging conversation that lasted for hours, exchanging stories about their lives, jobs, and backgrounds. There were no hidden motives, no dark corners, and no reckless decisions born out of desperation. As Jake walked back to his hotel room later that night under the city lights, he felt a profound sense of freedom. He was a capable soldier who had earned the respect of his platoon, and he was a gay man living his life openly. The weekend pass was no longer an escape—it was just his life.
The next evening, the summer air in the city was warm and clear. Jake found himself drawn back to the same open-air lounge, the vibrant music and low murmur of conversation a welcome contrast to the rigid discipline of base life. He hadn't specifically planned on meeting anyone, but as he stepped out onto the patio, a familiar voice called out over the packed Saturday night crowd.
"Hey! You're back."
Jake turned to see Marcus approaching with an easy, genuine smile. He was dressed casually, looking relaxed, and the immediate spark of recognition between them was unmistakable.
"Couldn't stay away," Jake said, a comfortable warmth settling over him. "The atmosphere here beats the barracks by a mile."
They grabbed a pair of drinks and found a quiet table near the edge of the patio. Where the previous night had been about breaking the ice and sharing basic backgrounds, tonight the conversation flowed with a deeper, more effortless rhythm. They talked about their families, their long-term goals, and the challenges of balancing personal freedom with professional demands.
Jake found himself opening up in a way he never had before. He didn't have to put up guards or carefully monitor his words. Marcus listened intently, showing a quiet respect for Jake's commitment to his military career while genuinely appreciating the person beneath the uniform. For Jake, seeing the clear admiration in Marcus's eyes—drawn to Jake’s lean, athletic build and his grounded confidence—felt incredibly validating. It was a sharp, welcome contrast to the anonymous, reckless encounters of his past weekend leaves.
As the lounge began to wind down and the staff started clearing the outdoor tables, neither of them wanted the evening to end. The connection between them had grown noticeably stronger over the course of the night, built on mutual respect and a genuine mutual attraction.
"It's getting late," Marcus said, looking at the time but making no move to leave. "The bars are closing up."
Jake looked at Marcus, feeling completely secure in himself and the direction the evening was taking. The old anxiety of being caught or judged was entirely gone.
"My hotel is just a few blocks from here," Jake said, his voice quiet but confident. "Would you like to come back to my room? We can catch a movie or just keep talking."
Marcus smiled, his eyes locking onto Jake's. "I'd really like that."
They walked back through the quiet city streets together, the sidewalk illuminated by the warm glow of the streetlights. Entering the hotel lobby, Jake felt a profound sense of peace. There were no secrets, no hiding in the dark, and no reckless choices. He was just a man enjoying the start of a genuine relationship with someone he cared about, completely free to live his life on his own terms.
The hotel room door clicked shut. Inside, the quiet space was an upgrade from the lounge where they had spent the last two evenings. A private sanctuary. A place for intimacy. Marcus dropped his jacket onto the armchair, turning to Jake with a soft, appreciative smile. Without the loud music of the lounge or the distractions of the crowd, the attraction between them felt immediate and focused.
"Nice place," Marcus said gently, breaking the brief silence. "Definitely beats a military bunk, I assume."
"By a mile," Jake laughed quietly, his posture finally relaxing completely.
They sat together on the edge of the king-size bed, turning on the television to a low volume just to provide some background noise. But neither of them paid attention to the screen. They kept talking, their voices dropping to quiet murmurs as they sat closer together. The physical distance between them closed naturally. When Marcus reached out and placed a hand on Jake's forearm, Jake felt a surge of genuine excitement—not the anxious, fleeting rush of an anonymous encounter, but a deep, validating thrill. He looked at Marcus's handsome face, feeling completely free to appreciate another man openly and without reservation. When they finally leaned in and kissed, the transition was effortless. Jake’s conditioned, athletic body—honed by years of grueling military training—met Marcus’s embrace with a confident, intense energy. Stripping away their clothes in the dim light of the bedside lamp, there was no shame, no hiding, and no rush. Jake felt a profound sense of pride in his physicality, knowing he was desired for exactly who he was.
The connection between them moved naturally from the quiet conversation into a deep, intense physical intimacy. In the soft light of the hotel room, every movement felt deliberate and unhurried, a stark contrast to the reckless anonymity of Jake's past encounters.
Their time together was defined by a shared sense of safety and vulnerability that Jake had rarely experienced. As they grew closer, the walls Jake had built over years of military service began to soften. In the presence of Marcus, the need for a defensive posture faded away, replaced by an authentic connection that felt both grounding and liberating. This was more than just a physical meeting; it was a moment of profound acceptance that allowed Jake to feel seen for who he truly was.
As the night progressed, the initial intensity evolved into a quiet, lasting warmth. They found a comfortable rhythm in their shared space, characterized by a deep sense of mutual respect and newfound freedom. For Jake, this experience served as a turning point, marking the end of a long period of internal conflict and the beginning of a life lived with greater honesty.
They spent the night wrapped up in each other, sharing an intimate, passionate connection that was as emotional as it was physical. For Jake, it was the first time sex felt like an expression of freedom rather than a hidden, reckless escape from his reality. They held each other in the quiet hours of the early morning, talking softly until they finally drifted off to sleep.
When the morning light broke through the hotel curtains, Jake woke up feeling a deep sense of peace. Marcus was still asleep beside him. Looking at the civilian clothes draped over the chair and the man lying next to him, Jake knew that his world had permanently changed. He had survived the judgment of his platoon, and finally found the space to live his personal life with dignity.
The morning sun filtered through the hotel curtains, casting a warm light across the two nude men as Marcus looked over at Jake. Now completely relaxed in the casual environment, Marcus couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between his own average build and Jake's highly conditioned physique. The grueling daily physical training had left Jake with a chiseled, athletic frame, his muscles lean and perfectly defined.
"I have to admit, I'm a little intimidated," Marcus said with an admiring smile, leaning back against the pillows. "You look like you're carved out of stone. How do you maintain a build like that?"
Jake laughed softly, stretching his arms. "Well, I guess it started out in high school, when I ran on the cross-country and track teams. Our school teams were pretty competitive, and you don’t make the cut if you slacked on the training. Plus, there was no room for the junk food or beer a lot of my high school buddies were into. But I looked like a string bean back then. Lean, for sure, but not much muscle at all. It’s the Army forcing me to lift heavy objects at four in the morning and perform endless rounds of body weight calisthenics that packed on the muscle. Trust me, it’s less about aesthetics and more about survival out there."
"Well, whatever it is, it works," Marcus said, sitting up and looking at Jake earnestly. "I've been trying to get into better shape, but I always lose motivation or don't know what to focus on. I really want to build a little muscle and get leaner. Since you're clearly the expert, do you think you could help me design a workout plan? Just something practical I can do to improve my own looks and feel better."
Jake looked at Marcus, feeling a genuine sense of pride. It was a refreshing change to have physical conditioning viewed as a source of positive inspiration rather than a weapon to prove a point to a hostile platoon.
"Yeah, absolutely," Jake said, sitting up and grabbing a notepad and pen from the hotel desk. "We can set up a solid, foundational routine. You don't need a drill sergeant screaming at you to get results. The secret isn't doing anything crazy—it's just consistency and targeting the right muscle groups."
Jake sat on the edge of the bed and began drafting a balanced, four-day split program tailored for Marcus. He explained the importance of compound movements like squats, chest presses, and rows to build a strong, athletic frame, while adding in simple core and conditioning work to help get lean. As they went over the exercises together, the shared project brought them even closer, turning Jake’s military discipline into something positive they could share long after the weekend pass ended.
By Wednesday evening, back on base, a text message from Marcus buzzed on Jake’s phone. Jake, fresh out of the evening chow hall, sat down on his cot and opened the message. It was a picture of Marcus slumped on his living room floor, covered in sweat, holding a water bottle like a lifeline, with a wide, exhausted grin.
"Day two of the 'Jake Infantry Special' completed," the text read. "I can officially no longer feel my arms, and I am pretty sure my legs have turned to jelly. What did you do to me?"
Jake couldn't help but laugh out loud, attracting a brief, curious glance from Jones across the squad bay. Jake typed back quickly: That means you did the rows right. Remember to stretch, or tomorrow morning is going to be even worse.
A minute later, Marcus called him directly.
"I am cursing your name right now, just so you know," Marcus panted into the line, his voice full of good-natured exhaustion. "I went to the gym after work to try the upper-body split you wrote down. I thought sixty-pound dumbbells would be easy. I was very, very wrong."
"The trick is form over ego," Jake smiled, leaning back against the barracks wall. "Did you stay focused on the tempos I wrote out?"
"I did," Marcus asserted, his tone softening into genuine appreciation. "And honestly, even though I'm completely wiped out, it felt incredible. Usually, I go to the gym, wander around the machines for twenty minutes because I feel self-conscious, check out a few of the hot guys, and leave. Having a specific plan—knowing exactly what sets and reps to do—made a massive difference. I actually felt like I belonged there."
"You do belong there," Jake said quietly, his voice steady. "Just stick to the schedule. The first two weeks are always the hardest part because your body is adapting. Once you clear that hurdle, you'll start seeing the changes."
"Well, I'm holding you to that," Marcus replied, a playful edge returning to his voice. "And you're going to have to check my progress in person. Are you getting a pass this coming weekend?"
Jake looked around the barracks. The tense, paranoid atmosphere that used to suffocate him was entirely gone. Miller was across the room laughing with some other guys, and the daily routine had returned to a comfortable, professional baseline. He felt completely grounded in his skin.
"Yeah, I'm clear for the weekend," Jake said, a confident smile on his face. "Keep working hard on that plan, and I'll see you Friday night."
The barracks buzzed with the frantic energy of a looming seventy-two-hour weekend pass. Rifles were locked in the armory, inspection checklists were signed off, and the men quickly changed into civilian clothes. The atmosphere around Jake had shifted into a cautious, quiet neutrality. While he wasn't suddenly everyone's best friend, the overt hostility that arose from the case of lice and the order for the men to shave off their pubic hair had vanished. As Jake packed his duffel bag, his platoon-mate Miller walked past his bunk, paused for a fraction of a second, and offered a terse nod. "Have a good pass, Jake. Don't bring back any passengers."
It was a joke, but without the venom from the week before. Jake managed a small smile. "Not a chance, Miller. See you Monday."
An hour later, Jake was on a civilian transit bus heading toward the city. For the past few months, these trips had been cloaked in an exhausting layer of paranoia and secrecy. He used to look over his shoulder at the bus station, terrified he would spot someone from the base while he transitioned from his military persona to his real self. Now, with the truth fully out in the open, the knot of anxiety that usually twisted in his stomach was entirely gone. The relief of no longer having to live a double life within his unit was overwhelming.
When the bus pulled into the downtown terminal, the city was alive with weekend energy. Jake checked into a quiet boutique hotel, dropped his bags, and showered away the last remnants of the base.
As night fell, he stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar. He thought about the bathhouse from his last visit to the city. The anonymous, chaotic nature of that environment had been an escape from the rigid discipline of the barracks, but it had also brought a wave of chaos that nearly destroyed his military career. He realized he didn't need to hide in the dark corners of the city anymore just to be himself.
He decided to visit a popular, open-air lounge in the city's gay neighborhood instead. The venue was vibrant, filled with music, laughter, and people socializing under string lights. Jake ordered a drink and sat at the bar, taking in the environment without the crushing weight of guilt or fear.
"Hey. Are you from out of town?"
Jake turned to see a man about his age, with an easy smile and a relaxed demeanor, sitting a few stools down.
"Just visiting for the weekend," Jake replied, his voice steady. "I'm stationed about an hour north of here."
The man's eyes lit up with interest, taking in Jake's broad, athletic shoulders and precise posture. "Military? That must be intense."
"It has its moments," Jake smiled, feeling a genuine sense of pride. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel the need to lie about his job to fit into the gay community, nor did he feel the need to hide his sexuality to survive in the military. The two halves of his identity, which had fought so bitterly against each other in the barracks, were finally coexisting.
The other man offered a handshake. “My name is Marcus. Great to meet you.”
“And I’m Jake. The pleasure is mine.”
They struck up a casual, engaging conversation that lasted for hours, exchanging stories about their lives, jobs, and backgrounds. There were no hidden motives, no dark corners, and no reckless decisions born out of desperation. As Jake walked back to his hotel room later that night under the city lights, he felt a profound sense of freedom. He was a capable soldier who had earned the respect of his platoon, and he was a gay man living his life openly. The weekend pass was no longer an escape—it was just his life.
The next evening, the summer air in the city was warm and clear. Jake found himself drawn back to the same open-air lounge, the vibrant music and low murmur of conversation a welcome contrast to the rigid discipline of base life. He hadn't specifically planned on meeting anyone, but as he stepped out onto the patio, a familiar voice called out over the packed Saturday night crowd.
"Hey! You're back."
Jake turned to see Marcus approaching with an easy, genuine smile. He was dressed casually, looking relaxed, and the immediate spark of recognition between them was unmistakable.
"Couldn't stay away," Jake said, a comfortable warmth settling over him. "The atmosphere here beats the barracks by a mile."
They grabbed a pair of drinks and found a quiet table near the edge of the patio. Where the previous night had been about breaking the ice and sharing basic backgrounds, tonight the conversation flowed with a deeper, more effortless rhythm. They talked about their families, their long-term goals, and the challenges of balancing personal freedom with professional demands.
Jake found himself opening up in a way he never had before. He didn't have to put up guards or carefully monitor his words. Marcus listened intently, showing a quiet respect for Jake's commitment to his military career while genuinely appreciating the person beneath the uniform. For Jake, seeing the clear admiration in Marcus's eyes—drawn to Jake’s lean, athletic build and his grounded confidence—felt incredibly validating. It was a sharp, welcome contrast to the anonymous, reckless encounters of his past weekend leaves.
As the lounge began to wind down and the staff started clearing the outdoor tables, neither of them wanted the evening to end. The connection between them had grown noticeably stronger over the course of the night, built on mutual respect and a genuine mutual attraction.
"It's getting late," Marcus said, looking at the time but making no move to leave. "The bars are closing up."
Jake looked at Marcus, feeling completely secure in himself and the direction the evening was taking. The old anxiety of being caught or judged was entirely gone.
"My hotel is just a few blocks from here," Jake said, his voice quiet but confident. "Would you like to come back to my room? We can catch a movie or just keep talking."
Marcus smiled, his eyes locking onto Jake's. "I'd really like that."
They walked back through the quiet city streets together, the sidewalk illuminated by the warm glow of the streetlights. Entering the hotel lobby, Jake felt a profound sense of peace. There were no secrets, no hiding in the dark, and no reckless choices. He was just a man enjoying the start of a genuine relationship with someone he cared about, completely free to live his life on his own terms.
The hotel room door clicked shut. Inside, the quiet space was an upgrade from the lounge where they had spent the last two evenings. A private sanctuary. A place for intimacy. Marcus dropped his jacket onto the armchair, turning to Jake with a soft, appreciative smile. Without the loud music of the lounge or the distractions of the crowd, the attraction between them felt immediate and focused.
"Nice place," Marcus said gently, breaking the brief silence. "Definitely beats a military bunk, I assume."
"By a mile," Jake laughed quietly, his posture finally relaxing completely.
They sat together on the edge of the king-size bed, turning on the television to a low volume just to provide some background noise. But neither of them paid attention to the screen. They kept talking, their voices dropping to quiet murmurs as they sat closer together. The physical distance between them closed naturally. When Marcus reached out and placed a hand on Jake's forearm, Jake felt a surge of genuine excitement—not the anxious, fleeting rush of an anonymous encounter, but a deep, validating thrill. He looked at Marcus's handsome face, feeling completely free to appreciate another man openly and without reservation. When they finally leaned in and kissed, the transition was effortless. Jake’s conditioned, athletic body—honed by years of grueling military training—met Marcus’s embrace with a confident, intense energy. Stripping away their clothes in the dim light of the bedside lamp, there was no shame, no hiding, and no rush. Jake felt a profound sense of pride in his physicality, knowing he was desired for exactly who he was.
The connection between them moved naturally from the quiet conversation into a deep, intense physical intimacy. In the soft light of the hotel room, every movement felt deliberate and unhurried, a stark contrast to the reckless anonymity of Jake's past encounters.
Their time together was defined by a shared sense of safety and vulnerability that Jake had rarely experienced. As they grew closer, the walls Jake had built over years of military service began to soften. In the presence of Marcus, the need for a defensive posture faded away, replaced by an authentic connection that felt both grounding and liberating. This was more than just a physical meeting; it was a moment of profound acceptance that allowed Jake to feel seen for who he truly was.
As the night progressed, the initial intensity evolved into a quiet, lasting warmth. They found a comfortable rhythm in their shared space, characterized by a deep sense of mutual respect and newfound freedom. For Jake, this experience served as a turning point, marking the end of a long period of internal conflict and the beginning of a life lived with greater honesty.
They spent the night wrapped up in each other, sharing an intimate, passionate connection that was as emotional as it was physical. For Jake, it was the first time sex felt like an expression of freedom rather than a hidden, reckless escape from his reality. They held each other in the quiet hours of the early morning, talking softly until they finally drifted off to sleep.
When the morning light broke through the hotel curtains, Jake woke up feeling a deep sense of peace. Marcus was still asleep beside him. Looking at the civilian clothes draped over the chair and the man lying next to him, Jake knew that his world had permanently changed. He had survived the judgment of his platoon, and finally found the space to live his personal life with dignity.
The morning sun filtered through the hotel curtains, casting a warm light across the two nude men as Marcus looked over at Jake. Now completely relaxed in the casual environment, Marcus couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between his own average build and Jake's highly conditioned physique. The grueling daily physical training had left Jake with a chiseled, athletic frame, his muscles lean and perfectly defined.
"I have to admit, I'm a little intimidated," Marcus said with an admiring smile, leaning back against the pillows. "You look like you're carved out of stone. How do you maintain a build like that?"
Jake laughed softly, stretching his arms. "Well, I guess it started out in high school, when I ran on the cross-country and track teams. Our school teams were pretty competitive, and you don’t make the cut if you slacked on the training. Plus, there was no room for the junk food or beer a lot of my high school buddies were into. But I looked like a string bean back then. Lean, for sure, but not much muscle at all. It’s the Army forcing me to lift heavy objects at four in the morning and perform endless rounds of body weight calisthenics that packed on the muscle. Trust me, it’s less about aesthetics and more about survival out there."
"Well, whatever it is, it works," Marcus said, sitting up and looking at Jake earnestly. "I've been trying to get into better shape, but I always lose motivation or don't know what to focus on. I really want to build a little muscle and get leaner. Since you're clearly the expert, do you think you could help me design a workout plan? Just something practical I can do to improve my own looks and feel better."
Jake looked at Marcus, feeling a genuine sense of pride. It was a refreshing change to have physical conditioning viewed as a source of positive inspiration rather than a weapon to prove a point to a hostile platoon.
"Yeah, absolutely," Jake said, sitting up and grabbing a notepad and pen from the hotel desk. "We can set up a solid, foundational routine. You don't need a drill sergeant screaming at you to get results. The secret isn't doing anything crazy—it's just consistency and targeting the right muscle groups."
Jake sat on the edge of the bed and began drafting a balanced, four-day split program tailored for Marcus. He explained the importance of compound movements like squats, chest presses, and rows to build a strong, athletic frame, while adding in simple core and conditioning work to help get lean. As they went over the exercises together, the shared project brought them even closer, turning Jake’s military discipline into something positive they could share long after the weekend pass ended.
By Wednesday evening, back on base, a text message from Marcus buzzed on Jake’s phone. Jake, fresh out of the evening chow hall, sat down on his cot and opened the message. It was a picture of Marcus slumped on his living room floor, covered in sweat, holding a water bottle like a lifeline, with a wide, exhausted grin.
"Day two of the 'Jake Infantry Special' completed," the text read. "I can officially no longer feel my arms, and I am pretty sure my legs have turned to jelly. What did you do to me?"
Jake couldn't help but laugh out loud, attracting a brief, curious glance from Jones across the squad bay. Jake typed back quickly: That means you did the rows right. Remember to stretch, or tomorrow morning is going to be even worse.
A minute later, Marcus called him directly.
"I am cursing your name right now, just so you know," Marcus panted into the line, his voice full of good-natured exhaustion. "I went to the gym after work to try the upper-body split you wrote down. I thought sixty-pound dumbbells would be easy. I was very, very wrong."
"The trick is form over ego," Jake smiled, leaning back against the barracks wall. "Did you stay focused on the tempos I wrote out?"
"I did," Marcus asserted, his tone softening into genuine appreciation. "And honestly, even though I'm completely wiped out, it felt incredible. Usually, I go to the gym, wander around the machines for twenty minutes because I feel self-conscious, check out a few of the hot guys, and leave. Having a specific plan—knowing exactly what sets and reps to do—made a massive difference. I actually felt like I belonged there."
"You do belong there," Jake said quietly, his voice steady. "Just stick to the schedule. The first two weeks are always the hardest part because your body is adapting. Once you clear that hurdle, you'll start seeing the changes."
"Well, I'm holding you to that," Marcus replied, a playful edge returning to his voice. "And you're going to have to check my progress in person. Are you getting a pass this coming weekend?"
Jake looked around the barracks. The tense, paranoid atmosphere that used to suffocate him was entirely gone. Miller was across the room laughing with some other guys, and the daily routine had returned to a comfortable, professional baseline. He felt completely grounded in his skin.
"Yeah, I'm clear for the weekend," Jake said, a confident smile on his face. "Keep working hard on that plan, and I'll see you Friday night."
