I just need to do some presses and then I’ll be home.
Sophie Love <3
Mmm. Sounds hot. See you soon.
Pocketing my phone, I walk over to the bench press and set my things down. It’s late afternoon and today is Saturday, which means…
I swallow as I towel my face off again. No use in thinking about it now, or I’ll be sporting a very inconvenient erection.
As always, that brief moment of internalized shame washes over me.
I mean, I love Sophie sofuckingmuch.
But I also lovewatching herfuckother men.
It doesn’t make sense. I can’t reconcile the two halves of myself—the man who was taught to protect and the man who finds pleasure in letting go. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe I like the idea of breaking rules I never agreed to in the first place.
It’s the kind of thing I shouldn’t like. Not with the way I was raised—straitlaced, taught to keep things proper and respectable. The idea ofsharinganything like that, of getting a thrill from it, goes against everything drilled into me growing up. Saturdays always bring that wobble, the knot in my gut tightening just enough to remind me that part of me still clings to what I was supposed to believe.
Lying down on the bench, I push those thoughts away. I focus on lifting, on the fact that I’ve added weight to the barbell every day I’ve been here this week.
Sometimes it’s nice to see concrete progress in one aspect of my life, especially considering the house is still up in the air. I’ve never been huge on working out, but I feel so much better physically and mentally since prioritizing it. It’s fucking hard in the moment, but there’s no glory without hard work.
I’m breathing heavily when I finish, so I sit up slowly and towel myself off.
Movement in the mirror catches my eye, and I see a man with his back to me lifting a fuck-ton of weight on the shoulder press. He’s shirtless, and the muscles on his back ripple with every controlled, up-and-down movement. I can’t help but appreciate the wide shoulders, corded forearms, and tapered waist.Thatis why I work out—to look like that guy. My eyes peruse a bit lower, taking in his muscular calves and black trainers. His hair is dark and short, and though I can’t see his face, I can appreciate the even, golden complexion of his skin.
Reminds me of?—
I close my eyes and shake that thought from my head.
Standing, I walk over to the smoothie bar. It’s my treat after every workout, and the best part of becoming a member of this gym, if I’m being totally honest.
As a young woman begins to blend my kale and mango smoothie with extra protein, I let myself think about Malakai Ravage.
I’d give anything to go back to that night in the dorms—to rein my feelings in a bit better, to keep my emotions in check. He was my bisexual awakening, and despite only ever sleeping with two men before Sophie, Kai was my Achilles’ heel.
The one that got away.
Sophie knows about my sexuality, but she has no idea that Malakai started it all. It never felt right telling her about what happened—and to be honest, I’d pushed that night so far back in my mind. I was angry at Kai for years, but now? I’m better. I’ve forgiven him. Imean, for the most part at least.Sophie makes me happy. And I hope Kai is, too, wherever he is. We don’t follow each other on social media, so I don’t even know if he still lives in Crestwood, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.
Especially since Sophie and Stella Ravage are friends now.
“Kale and mango with dragon fruit,” the woman calls, letting me know it’s ready.
“Thanks,” I tell her, tapping the virtual tip jar with my phone and depositing one hundred dollars.
Her eyes go wide, but I’m already walking to the locker room and sipping the delicious smoothie.
As I walk into the locker room, I notice the same guy from earlier changing. I nearly stop walking as he tugs his shorts down and I get a full view of his perfectly sculpted arse.Damn.Smirking, I walk to my locker nearby and begin grabbing things for my shower. When I turn around, the man is gone, but the sound of a shower starting around the corner tells me he hasn’tgone far. We seem to be the only two people in here, which is only minorly creepy.
I shower quickly, rinsing the sweat off and letting the hot water run down my face and chest. The showers here are the cleanest I’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t feel like a locker room shower. It feels like a nice hotel shower, and considering Sophie and I are living out of a tiny guest bathroom with a capsule shower, this feels luxurious in comparison.
Shutting the water off, I grab my towel and open the door of the shower room, running smack-dab into another body.
“Fuck—”
“Sorry—”
