PATRICK
Jittery,avoidant, and deliciously nervous, Shane appeared at my door around four and insisted he was happy to wait outside while I packed my gym stuff. That he had walked back on wanting to debrief after a training session was a surprise, especially considering how long his gaze lingered on me. I’d have imagined him jumping head over heels for an hour longer to feast his naughty eyes.
It amused me on the surface level. Who didn’t want to be liked? It didn’t really matter if it was heading anywhere—it obviously wasn’t, considering the biology of it all.
I put on a clean pair of shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt, shoved my training sneakers into the backpack with a fresh change of clothes, and stepped out of the room. Shane was leaning against the wall, biting his nail.
“That’s a bad habit,” I said.
A small frown came over his face before he realized what he’d been doing. I’d only meant to tease, but guilt rose in his eyes. “Oh. Right. I thought I’d left that behind.”
I slapped his shoulder reassuringly and led the way down the hallway. The gym was just a ten-minute walk away, and it was abit more crowded than I’d anticipated. It didn’t bother me, but I saw the nervous glances Shane sent around.
I swapped my sneakers and let Shane strap the smartwatch to my wrist. He was quick and methodical about it, stepping away as soon as it was done. He followed me upstairs to the training area with his notebooks.
“Do you want me to explain what I’m doing?” I asked.
He shook his head. “The best way to do this is if you just do your training session exactly as you always do. I’ll watch.”
I’m sure you will, I thought, wondering what this strange ripple of excitement meant. “Feast your eyes,” I said, keeping my voice cool. I took headphones out of my pocket and played myself some upbeat music to hype me up for the workout.
I minded my own business for the most part, but Shane was always somewhere in the corner of my vision, be that in front of me or in the reflection in the mirror. It was hard not to be acutely aware of the weight of Shane’s gaze. Those hungry, wanting eyes sliding over your body, exploring the glow of your skin, locking onto your naked ass if you’re dumb enough and vain enough to leave the door ajar. And your secret inner voice pulsing,see me, see me, see me. Aren’t I beautiful? Don’t you want it?The rising thrill of receiving someone’s attention, even if I wouldn’t do anything with it, was too delicious not to drool all over.
Just there, in the distance, sitting on a bench, Shane pressed his knees together and scribbled in his red notebook, the blue one placed underneath it for support. Occasionally, he looked up, watching me as I lifted heavy dumbbells—left, right, left, right—my face stern and sweat breaking over my brow, chest, and back. He observed me for nearly two hours before I called it a day.
Without a word, Shane got up and followed me into the locker room, where he sat on another bench and noted the ending of the routine. I stood in front of the mirror, looking atmy arms and numb with fatigue after trying to elicit some sort of impressed reaction from Shane all this time, and he was focused on his notebook, small in the distance behind me.
“I’ll take a quick shower. I stink,” I said. I waited for a reply, but Shane only nodded and mumbled some kind of assent.
I walked over to my locker, my chest growing tight with anticipation, and I took the bottom edge of my T-shirt into a firm grip. I could almost feel the point of his gaze landing on the back of my head, or it was all just my imagination. I could imagine him very clearly just now, even though he was out of my view. His lips parting, breath barely leaving his lungs, fingers folding around the notebook, a little squirm on the bench, and the gaze so intense and hungry that it devoured my soul in the moment that followed.
I lifted my T-shirt over my head and tossed it into the backpack, my heart thundering like mad. It was almost as though the weight of his staring heated up the muscles in my upper back. He watched me undress, and it was the most exhilarating thing.
If it’s a show you want, I thought, pumping up my excitement. My thumbs hooked the waistband of my shorts and underwear. It didn’t bother me to be naked around guys, never had, after years of shared locker rooms and showers. And it definitely didn’t bother me to be watched with so much interest. It fed my not-so-secret vanity.
The fabric stretched and slipped over my ass, dropping down my legs to fold around my ankles. Even though I had enough confidence to fill up the entire locker room, my fingers gave a slight tremble I hadn’t seen coming. I bent down after stepping out of my clothes and picked them up, not looking at Shane.
I tossed my stuff inside the locker and picked up a towel from the backpack, then walked across the locker room with a smirk decorating my face before slipping into the showers.
When I was alone, the heat reached my face. That had been a needless exhibition, and I knew it. Even so, it felt good to be noticed.
And you’ll do just about anything for attention, I scolded myself, letting cold water run. I half expected the droplets to sizzle and evaporate the moment they touched my burning skin, but the water cooled me down instead.
I showered quickly, washing off the sweat and drying myself with the fluffy towel before tossing it over my shoulder and pumping myself up to return to the locker room. The momentary freakiness of my earlier intentions was gone, and, as always, I had to deal with the consequences. The consequence on hand was a walk of shame in front of Shane and quick dressing. But being shy about it now would only portray me as an unstable attention seeker.
Walking back into the locker room, I pinned Shane with my gaze for no other reason than the fact that he was right in front of me, only on the opposite side of the room. He looked, probably thinking I wouldn’t be watching him, and his gaze dragged up my body just the same way it had the night he’d measured my waist. Sinking into his oversized clothes, he let himself examine every inch of me, moving his gaze up my legs, over my dick and balls—where it lingered just a little too long—up my abs and pecs before finally reaching my eyes.
I had been walking over to my locker all that time, but he saw that I had been observing him. He looked into my eyes, guilt filling those chestnuts of his, lingered, and looked down at the notebook.
“Do I get to read what you’re writing?” I asked, shattering the stuffy silence in the locker room while picking up my underwear and putting them on.
“I, uh, don’t think…no. It’s better if you don’t,” Shane said.
“That bad?” I asked, trying for a chuckle but producing a weird, strangled sound instead.
“Not at all,” Shane said, finding some firm ground. “It’s just that I don’t want you to tweak your behavior in any way.”
“I might be faking it all along,” I said with a shrug, then dragged a pair of pants up my legs. I tucked my bulge in and pulled the zipper up, turning to Shane with an apologetic smile. “I’m not, by the way.”
