Page 11 of Gym Bros (Bay Area Bros #2)
“Have you ever met a jock who wasn’t a jerk?”
“I wouldn’t call him a jock ,” I say, thinking of him taking kung fu classes when he was a kid.
“I’ve never personally met an MMA fighter, but I’ve seen how they act on TV. Way worse than jocks, actually.”
“I’m not gonna try and say I get it, but I think he’s pretty passionate about it.”
“So passionate he gives up after three yoga sessions?” She snorts. “I’m unconvinced.”
“Maybe it was me, then.”
“Maybe. You’re pretty intimidating.”
“You’re hilarious.”
She arches a brow at me.
Oh. Wait. She’s being serious?
“Have you seen yourself?” she asks.
“I have. Multitudes of times. He could snap me like a twig.”
She shakes her head, lips pursed. “I don’t mean that. I mean you’re world-traveled, put together, smart?—”
“Burned out, underemployed, obsessed with my cat.”
“In need of Prozac, yes, but I can see why someone like him wouldn’t want someone like you calling him kiddo.”
“I never called him that.”
“But did you say it with your eyes?”
Did I?
I mean I’ve rolled them, but I’ve always been really careful to do that when he’s not looking unless…oh fuck, the mirror .
And how often had I looked at the time on Wednesday? I was only timing his stretches—mostly—but I noticed nearly every minute pass.
I’m not ready to say with a hundred percent certainty that I’m the one and only reason he never came back, but my side of the street feels awfully dirty all of a sudden. I never quite realize I’m not in the mood for tough love until I talk to Bailey.
Deacon returns to the kitchen, and I look up at him. He’s a very tall, sleekly fit white man with carefully styled dark hair and bright blue eyes. He’s got deep dimples that are visible whether he’s smiling or not. So lovely. “I’ve got this,” he tells Bailey in his low, quiet voice.
She and I back away from the chowder in favor of pouring some wine. I take my glass over to the couch where Miguel is sitting. He’s closer to my size and wears his dark hair in a bun most days. He’s got on skinny jeans and a pink sweater that makes his pale brown skin look fantastic.
“You look nice,” he tells me with an up and down appraisal.
I grimace, sipping my wine. “Thanks. Same to you.”
Miguel preens because he’s capable of taking a compliment like a normal person.
A rock song is playing on the sound system, and I can’t help wishing for something I could dance to. “How’s work?” I ask him.
“It’s fucking brutal,” he tells me. “This is the first night all week I’ve managed to tear myself away from it for more than an hour. If someone told me the homework would be worse than grad school, I might have stuck with being a content creator or tried my hand at waiting tables.”
“I take it you’re not getting out much, then.”
He laughs drily. “No. You?”
“Not really, but I don’t have a good excuse. Are you still seeing Nathan?” I ask.
He nearly chokes on his drink. “Um…it’s complicated. ”
“Care to share?”
Before he has to answer me, Mal and Ryan join us, and Mal takes over the conversation as he tends to. I finish my glass of wine, and Ryan pours me another from the bottle he brought with him. When it’s full enough to meet my needs, the roommate finally makes his appearance.
Pretty is my first impression. Not pretty the way I am, but pretty the way Malcolm is with smooth skin and well-balanced features.
He looks nervous when he notices we’re all staring at him.
Well, everyone except Deacon, but then he smiles and waves.
He lights up the room. Fantastic smile. “Hey, I’m Evan. ”
So…not nearly as awkward as Deacon then.
Aside from his million-dollar smile, Evan’s got straight brown hair cut shorter on the sides.
The rest brushes his cheekbones. He has an athletic build, but he isn’t tall.
Maybe five-ten from where I’m sitting. His ass, though—just wow.
It might even be better than Samuel’s. An actual bubble of an ass, and this is showcased by pale blue short shorts.
His upper body is cut, too. He’s wearing a skin-tight athletic shirt that shows every bulge of lean muscle.
Deacon gets the hottest roommates, I swear. He’s got to be gay, right? Ryan swears he isn’t, but come on. Evan definitely is.
We introduce ourselves. Bailey even comes out of the kitchen to say hello to him. Deacon, however, remains intent on his cooking tasks.
I remember the first time I met him when Ryan was living here a few months ago. I thought the two of them couldn’t be worse matched as roommates because they both have issues with socialization, but now I think Deacon is probably the issue. He’s so… shy .
Evan is effervescent in comparison. He also keeps sneaking glances into the kitchen like he’s waiting for his roommate to notice him, but no luck. Deac is locked in .
“How do you know each other?” Miguel asks.
“We work at the same software company.”
“Which one?” I ask. I don’t think I’ve ever asked Deacon.
“Polytech,” Evan says, rolling his eyes. “I know it’s a terrible name, but the owner doesn’t get it.”
My ears perk up at the company name. “Do you know Isaac Sullivan?”
Evan blinks at me, his cheeks getting pink. “He’s my boss.”
“Ah.”
“How do you know him?” he asks.
“Just here and there,” I lie. “I’ve run into him at some parties.”
“I’m his assistant.”
I take a new look at Evan, wondering if this is Isaac’s type.
I can’t quite see it. He’s pretty enough, and more masculine than I am, but like I’ve said—I was never able to pin down exactly what Isaac’s type was.
But with a sex drive like his, I can’t imagine him hiring an assistant to work with every day he wouldn’t want to fuck.
Not that I necessarily think they’re fucking, but Isaac rarely does anything without some sexual motivation.
He wouldn’t hire anyone who didn’t perk his dick up.
The ass on Evan is probably doing him a lot of favors in the job security department.
But maybe I’m not being fair.
Meanwhile, my phone buzzes, and I take it out of my pocket, frowning when I see it’s Marcus.
Marcus
Can you please call me as soon as you get a chance?
Me
Is this about work?
Marcus
No. Please call me?
I decide I will, excusing myself from the couch. If he’s already back in town, I might rather meet up with him than stay at this get together. I can always get my chowder to go.
Stepping into the hall, I put through a call to him.
“Hey,” he answers. “Sorry if I caught you in the middle of something.”
“Are you in town?”
“I’m in New York. Listen, my wife is panicking about Sam again. He’s not returning her calls.”
“Oh? Have you talked to him?”
“He answered a text, so I know he’s alive, but I didn’t get much out of him. When did you see him last?”
“Is he missing?”
“No,” Marcus says. “Nothing like that, but he gets into these—funks.”
“Oh. I saw him Wednesday. He no-showed Thursday and today.”
“Did he really? Damn.”
“If you give me his address, I can check on him.” I don’t know where that comes from. This get together isn’t that bad, but for some reason, now that I’m outside the door, I have no desire to go back in.
Also, I selfishly need to reassure myself I didn’t fuck something up with Samuel.
“That would be great,” Marcus says. “I didn’t want to ask, but I was going to anyway.”
“I don’t mind,” I tell him.
“Don’t give him a hard time for no-showing though, okay?”
“Have you always been this much of a softie?” I ask.
“He’s just—I tend to tread lightly when it comes to Samuel. ”
“Why is that?”
“He’s…well…let’s just say we have some history.”
“Daddy issues, huh?”
“Calyx. I’m serious,” Marcus says. “When he gets upset, it’s not pretty.”
I reconsider my offer. “Maybe I shouldn’t go, then.”
“We just want to make sure he’s not…”
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t want to tell his business. Let’s just say there’s a reason we aren’t fighting him on the MMA thing. It’s a good outlet for him.”
I frown. What is he not saying?
“So, I’ll be safe if I just show up there?”
“Of course. He’s not gonna hurt you. ”
I make a face though I know he can’t see it. “Why’d you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
I drop it. “Never mind. Text me his address.”
“Thanks, angel. Call me once you see him, okay?”
“Okay. Bye.”
A few seconds after I hang up, I’ve got the address pulled up in my maps app. Pac Heights. Nice. After a walk back to my place to get my car, I drive to Samuel’s neighborhood.
His building is modern and looks expensive, overlooking the Golden Gate bridge. As I’m approaching the door, I startle as something moves against my pants leg near my ankle. I turn to find a dog sniffing at me, and when I look up, I’m met with Samuel’s stunned gaze.
“What are you doing here?”
“Oh,” I say, trying to play this casual. “There you are.”
He runs a hand over his head, and I take a moment to look at him and the dog. His t-shirt is soaked in sweat. The red-haired mutt is panting heavily. It’s a cool night, so they must have been really working to be this spent.
“How’d you get my address?” he asks.
“Your dad.”
“Right.” He sighs. “You need proof of life or something? You can take a picture.”
“I’m sure he’ll take my word for it,” I say cautiously.
“Well, when you talk to him, tell him I was planning to call Mom back, I’ve just been busy with the dog.”
I smile down at the skinny, large-eared animal. “This is Beauty?”
“Yeah.”
I squat down and hold out my hand for her to sniff. I’m more of a cat person, but I don’t mind dogs. They’re just too high-maintenance for me and my schedule—or what used to be my schedule. She licks my knuckles, and I take that as permission to pet her. “She’s cute,” I say.
“Thanks. Did you, uh…you wanna come in?”
“If you don’t mind.”
He hesitates.
I give Beauty a final stroke and stand, looking up at the imposing young man in front of me. I need to come out with it. If I don’t—this shit is going to drive me crazy. “Was it something I did?”
He immediately looks called out and defensive. His jaw locks, and his gaze drops. “I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”
“Well…I mean…you’re paying me.”
“Look, I know what I’m doing probably seems stupid to someone like you, but I’m not over here judging how you live your life or?—”
I hold up my hands. “Wait. You think I’m judging you?”
“Believe me, I know an exasperated sigh when I hear one.”
“I didn’t?— ”
The look on his face stops me cold. “I wasn’t exasperated,” I say instead. “If anything, I was indecisive. I’m more hands on normally, but I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable with that.”
He squints like he’s trying to decipher a tricky code. “Hands on?”
I’m getting flustered. I feel it in my rising heart rate and my suddenly sweaty palms. “I just mean helping you understand your body and your positioning better by pointing out the places where you’re tense or over-correcting.”
“With your hands?”
Swallowing hard, I nod.
He makes a noise like a scoff, and I feel like I might puke.
“I don’t care about that,” he says. “I just want to get better. I need to recover, and I don’ t need another injury like this. But what I also don’t need?—”
This time, he silences himself.
“You can say it,” I tell him even as I brace myself.
“Fine. You make me feel like an idiot.”
“Oh.”
Bailey’s words from earlier come to mind.
“Yeah, so it didn’t feel like a good fit.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but his expression is heavy.
“I was actually really excited to be able to help you,” I admit.
“Yeah? Well, it didn’t feel like it. Felt like you were doing my dad a favor. Under duress.”
“I am doing your dad a favor, but I believe in what I teach, too. Maybe I’m not a very good teacher.”
“I didn’t mean…” he trails off and looks down at the dog. “Maybe I take things too personally. It’s hard when I feel like I suck at something.”
“You’re new to it. I am, too. I mean, I’ve been doing yoga since I was twelve, but I only started teaching a few months ago. Feel free to tell me if something’s not landing right.”
“If I’m being honest, it’s not just that,” he says.
I find myself clenching with anxiety.
“You don’t seem to think too much of me. You think my name’s stupid, my questions are stupid, anything I try to talk about actually?—”
“I don’t,” I argue.
“Come on,” he says, dismissively.
“I don’t,” I say more firmly.
“Okay, well, you made me fucking cry, so…”
“I what ?”
He shakes his head and punches his code into the door lock. “Last chance for a picture.”
“Wait,” I say, scrambling. “Can I apologize? I never meant to offend you. I told you I’m still learning.”
“I get it. It’s fine.”
“Can we try again?” I ask.
He gives me a look over his shoulder, and I hold my breath. “Fine,” he says. “But why don’t we skip having you come up and I’ll just see you at the gym.”
“Okay,” I say, both disappointed and relieved. I’d like to redeem myself right now, but it looks like I’ll have to wait.
“Okay. Good night, Calyx.”
“Good night, Sam.”