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Page 20 of Gym Bros (Bay Area Bros #2)

Priya’s eyes shine at the mention of hickeys. Fuck, I remember when I was like that. I’m twenty-five years old, and my mid-life crisis is already in full swing. “How was the kiss?” she asks. “Just decent?”

“That’s not really the point I’m trying to make,” I say .

“Was it like kissing your hand? No chemistry?”

I scrunch up my face even more. “ No .”

Rachel is suddenly crowded against my other side, also sweaty and smelling of men. “What’s going on?” she asks. “Where’s your fighter?”

“He not my?—”

“They kissed, and Calyx ran him off.”

“What? Why would you do that?” Rachel asks.

I turn and give her a glare. “Why do you think?”

“Oh, I’m sure you have a hundred dumb reasons. Tell me this—did he ask you out?”

How could she know that? “Yeah.”

“And you turned him down?”

“Of course I did!”

She and Priya sigh simultaneously. “Was the kiss bad?” Rachel asks, bringing us full circle.

“ No ,” I say again, insistently. Too insistently. “He’s my client.”

“You’re Marcus’s client.”

My mouth drops open in shock at the way she just called me the fuck out. I’ll be honest, I hadn’t put that together, but my hypocrisy is on full display now. Still, “I’m not like that.”

“No. You’re not. You’re not married. You’re completely available and turning down a hot guy who’s super into you.”

“He doesn’t know me. And maybe I’m not all that into him.”

“Is that really true? You’ve paid an awful lot of attention to him today. Going out of your way even. Goat yoga, Calyx?”

“You loved it,” I grumble.

“Yeah—and so did you, bitch. You stepped out of your bubble for a day, and you had fun, and why did we do that exactly? Oh, that’s right—because you wanted to show Saber a good time.”

“Can we not call him Saber? His name is Samuel. ”

She and Priya exchange a look. “You should go out with him,” Priya says.

“And do what?”

“Something fun. Let him get to know you if you want. And let him pick what you do on the date for fuck’s sake because I don’t think you’d know fun if it pulled down your pants.”

“Wow,” I say, staring flatly at Rachel who dropped that particular pearl. “He doesn’t seem like a barrel of laughs either, for the record. I already said no.”

“You’ve got his number,” she says. “Text him and tell him you changed your mind.”

Something stirs in me at the thought of that. I can’t tell if it’s dread or excitement. It all feels like anxiety in the end.

Priya nudges my arm.

I snap. “I’m not doing anything tonight. I’m drunk.”

“That’s exactly why you should do it tonight,” she says. “Because right now, you kinda want to, don’t you?”

I consider this. It wouldn’t be the first time I acted purely out of physical attraction, and I’m convinced that’s Samuel’s main driver in this whole debacle, too.

I’ve managed to turn his straight head, and now he’s curious.

He’s a stellar kisser, but at twenty-one I have my doubts about how good the sex would be.

Then again, it’d be different. I’m not shuddering at the thought or anything.

But I might feel differently when I’m sober.

“Do it,” Rachel says. “Plan it for tomorrow.”

Peer pressure and alcohol have me pulling my phone from my pocket.

“What do I say?”

Rachel plucks the phone from my hand. “Do not send that—” I tell her when she starts typing.

“Trust me,” she says. She hands the phone back, message unsent.

Me

Let’s do something tomorrow. We should probably talk anyway.

I raise my brows at her. “Sexy.”

“Sounds like you, though, doesn’t it? You said you wanted him to ‘know you.’”

Sadly, it does sound like me. “I don’t think that’s what I said,” I mumble. Still, I send the message before I can think better of it.

“He’s responding,” I say as the dots appear on the screen.

The three of us crowd around to watch the screen.

Samuel

Pier 39 carousel. Noon.

The ladies laugh. “Oh my god, that’s like romantic,” Rachel says. “This is an actual date, Calyx!”

“Pier 39? Is he serious? Isn’t that like the world’s biggest tourist trap?”

“It’s a tourist attraction . Have you never been?’

“I don’t think so. Not on purpose,” I say.

“Then you and Samuel should fit right in. He’s probably never been either.”

“Oh, God. This is a date.”

Priya snorts. “What did you think he was gonna do? Invite you to his place to hang out with him and his dog and a bottle of lube?”

I shoot her a glare because yes. That’s exactly what I thought. In my own defense, I say, “He was all over me.”

Her smile is smug. “Then maybe you’ll both get lucky.”

It turns out, Samuel’s not stupid. If he’d invited me to his place, I would have given in to my overwhelming urge to cancel this “date” by nine a.m. But a carousel in daylight in a very public place somehow makes the idea of meeting up with him less threatening.

It even feels like a nice way to let him down gently.

I dressed non-sexy today in case last night I looked like I was “asking for it” or something.

I’m in a gray sweater and jeans with a wool coat because it’s chilly and windy as fuck out here.

My hair is whipping around my face and turning into a mess I refuse to care about.

I show up on time, but he’s already here, waiting stoically near the line for the carousel.

I take a deep breath and approach, appreciating his casual athletic hoodie paired with well-fitting jeans and a pair of sneakers. His nose is a little pink from the cold, and I wonder how he stands this weather with his nearly shaved head. I want to put a hat on him. A beanie or something.

That would be hot.

Ugh, God. I cannot think of him like that. It’s perverse. I’m not right in the head for this.

“Why here?” I ask when I get close enough to talk. This is what I say instead of hi, or good to see you, or you look really fucking sexy in that hoodie.

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“It’s a lot of people.”

“Wanna go someplace more private?” he asks, his voice also unfairly seductive.

“No,” I say quickly. Or at least, I shouldn’t want that.

“Is this a date?” he asks.

I shrug. “I guess.”

“Try not to sound too excited.” With that, he puts his hand on my lower back and walks me to the back of the carousel line. I guess calling it a date means he’s allowed casual touching. Not that I’m necessarily complaining. He’s warm.

“We’re going on this?” I ask.

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to. Because it’s been awhile. Because it’s fun.”

I look at the rotating carousel—the fake horses moving up and down. The obnoxious music blaring from it and the kids’ screams. “Is it, though?”

“First time?” he asks.

“How’d you ever guess?” I say drily.

“Context clues.”

I snort.

“Let’s make a deal for today,” he says. “If you like something, you have to admit it.”

“And if I don’t?” I ask.

“I’ll even accept— ‘I didn’t hate it.’”

“Oh, will you?”

“Yes. But only because I have a feeling you’re determined not to enjoy this.”

“Did you get that from context clues, too?”

“Wild guess,” he says.

I look up at him. “Is having fun the goal for the day?”

He nods but still looks super serious.

“Why?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Goat yoga was a good time. You were nice to me for a lot of hours in a row. I had fun. It put me in a good mood. Figured this might work, too.”

“Are you one of those people who likes everything?”

“No,” he says.

“What are some things you don’t like?” I ask .

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Spicy food, basketball, airports, people who don’t fight fair, science fiction movies, yarn?—”

I’m laughing. “Okay, okay. Yarn?”

“Hate it,” he says.

“I’ve got bad news for you about this sweater,” I say.

He cracks a grin. “I have ways of dealing with sweaters.”

Should that turn me on? Do I need to remind my dick that nothing about this man should appeal to me at all? It’s actually more my mouth that’s the problem. It keeps wanting to see if last night was a drunken fluke. Like he can’t possibly be the world’s best kisser, right?

I turn my face to the wind to get a cold blast in my face. That helps.

The line moves quickly as the carousel unloads and the next group is allowed on.

Turns out, we’re in it because the damn thing is huge.

I’m eyeing the benches toward the inside of the ride, but Samuel grabs me by the waist and turns me toward a purple horse.

He climbs onto the black steed beside it, on the edge of the carousel, and I decide not to protest and go with it.

Perched on the lavender pony, I turn to him. “How do I look?”

“Hot,” he says.

“Did you want to take a picture?”

To my surprise, he pulls out his phone from his hoodie pocket. “Make it sexy,” he tells me.

This is no problem. I wrap my hands around the pole, arch my back, and lean my head against it, giving him and his cameraphone one of my more smoldering looks.

He shows me the result.

“Send it to me,” I demand.

Smirking, he sends the text. My phone buzzes on my thigh.

“I want the photo cred,” he says.

“You sure about that?” I ask. “People might assume things. ”

“Like what? I took a picture of one of my dad’s models? Shocking.”

Fuck, why did he have to bring up Marcus? I was almost enjoying this.

“I still like posing for pictures,” I tell him, slightly changing the subject. “It’s the runways and the travel I have the main issue with.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, the difference is three or four people treating you like a dress up doll versus two hundred people staring at you like a fancy clothes hanger.”

He looks surprised. “Sorry.”

“It’s the job,” I say like I’m not kind of traumatized by it.

“I guess we don’t get to pick what we’re good at.”

“I don’t know about that ,” I say. “It’s not like we’re incapable of learning new things.”

“I meant natural talents.”

“Yeah, I got that, but just because we’re built a certain way or look a certain way, does that mean we can’t aim for something else?”

“Like what?” he asks.

“I would say teaching yoga, but I’m starting to think you only show up because you think I’m pretty.”

He grins. “And if I said I like taking pictures of you, too, does that mean I’m just like the rest of them?”

Whoa. I feel kind of called out. Again. “Basically,” I say.

“You can’t help what you look like.”

“Oh, but I can,” I assure him.

He shrugs. “I’ve got nothing.”

“This is gonna be a long day, Samuel.”

“Maybe.”

The carousel starts up with a bone-grating blare of music. My horse rises while his dips .

It moves slightly faster than I thought it would—not the horse, but the ride itself. “Whoa,” I say, hanging onto the pole and clenching my thighs around the horse.

“Wanna see one of my special talents?” Samuel calls out over the music.

“You have a special carousel talent?”

“Yeah. Wanna see?”

“It’s not dangerous is it?”

“Not technically,” he tells me.

I look at him warily. “Okay.”

“All right, you asked for it.”

“I—”

My words cut off when he takes one hand off the pole and places it on the rear end of his horse.

Then, he starts riding it. And I mean, working that tight tailbone in a way that I would not have thought him capable.

He slowly grinds and thrusts his hips as the horse rises and lowers, and I’m staring at him open-mouthed wanting to say there are children here —and their mothers—but I’m speechless.

My dick thickens as my circulation reroutes in an effort to fill it as quickly as possible.

“Samuel!” I finally manage.

He smiles at me—wickedly. But then he takes his hand off the horse’s ass, stops gyrating, and holds onto the pole with both hands. “Did you wanna try?”

“There are children,” I hiss at him.

“I bet you’d do it if I was a photographer.”

“Are you daring me?”

“Maybe.”

I roll my eyes and blow out a breath. “Fine. Let me show you how it’s done.”

With both hands, I balance them on the purple horse’s rear and throw my head back, give my face a perfect pout, then bounce my hips a few times before I turn his way. “Can you do this?”

“Holy shit,” he says. “You wanna come ride my horse with me?”

I laugh and stop my little show. “How can you make a kids’ ride dirty?”

“Me?”

“I’m just going with the flow,” I say.

“Yeah, I noticed. I’m a fan.”

The way he’s looking at me. Damn. If this ride doesn’t end soon, I might join him on his horse. Getting to know each other better suddenly feels overrated. Dating in general. “That tailbone flexibility is really coming along,” I tell him.

“I’ve been practicing at home.”

I shoot him a look. “With who?”

He laughs. “Yoga, Calyx. Every morning—in bed—I cow and cobra. And you know…”

“What?”

“Let’s call it re-building muscle memory.”

I can’t help but picture something very particular. Like what he just did with the horse, only horizontally. “Are you practicing for something in particular?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?”

Now I’m well and truly blushing, and it’s got nothing to do with how chapped my cheeks are getting from the cold. I am warm all over. “Maybe you should buy me a drink first, then you can tell me.”

“How’s hot chocolate sound?”

“God, what are we twelve?” I ask.

“I don’t think a twelve-year old has moves like that.”

Whether he’s talking about his moves or mine, I’ve got no clue, but I can’t argue his facts. “Are you buying?” I ask.

“The hot chocolate? Absolutely. ”

“Fine. I’ll take mine with a shot of Kahlua.”

“You’ll take it however I give it to you.”

I shake my head. “Okay, who are you, and what the fuck did you do with Samuel?”

He smiles at me. “Is this where I get to convince you to call me Saber?”

I laugh. “Absolutely not.”

The ride slows, and we stare at each other, both grinning. “Verdict?” he asks.

“I didn’t hate it,” I tell him.

“Good.”

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