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Page 21 of Gym Bros (Bay Area Bros #2)

SAMUEL

I t’s the sarcasm that’s been fucking with me.

Calyx isn’t mean. He’s dry, sarcastic, and yes, cynical like Rachel said.

But he’s also funny and smart. Once his sense of humor clicked with me last night on the dance floor, I knew I had to up my game, which means I have to stop walking on eggshells. I have to give as good as I’m getting.

I’m a nice guy—short fuse not included—but I’ve been training with shit-talkers for years. And that’s all this is really, but it’s not a fight I’m looking for, it’s a…

Well…a sober kiss would be a good start.

But to get there, I need to stop holding back.

He’s into me—on some level, and if getting physical means I need to show him I appreciate him for more than his looks—fine.

It’s not untrue. There’s a lot about him that interests me.

He and his friends dropped enough breadcrumbs to leave me with plenty of questions.

I buy us each a hot chocolate, and we walk over to where a bunch of sea lions are showing off for people and being ridiculous.

Calyx watches them like he’s not sure what to make of the spectacle, and I watch him mostly because I’m not sure what to make of him, either.

“Do you like animals?” I ask. “In general?”

“It’s starting to be kind of a theme with us. Dogs, goats, horses—whatever the fuck these are.”

“Sea lions,” I inform him.

“Why are they all here though?”

“Good fishing? I don’t know.”

Calyx stares hard at a pair of them playing together. “Are they stupid or smart? I can’t tell.”

“Want me to google it?”

He shrugs. “If you want.”

I do, and I read from my screen. “Smart and playful. Like Rachel.”

Calyx does a spit take with his cocoa and smiles up at me. He’s got a drop of chocolate on the side of his lip, and I reach up to swipe it off. His tongue darts out where my thumb was. I suck the drop I retrieved into my mouth while we hold each other’s gaze.

His smile disappears, and it’s replaced with a look of curiosity. “What are your other moves, or have I seen them all now?”

“I’m winging it,” I assure him.

He tips his head. “Impressive.”

“Yeah? Thanks. Stay tuned.”

“What else is out here?” he asks.

“I don’t know. You wanna walk around? Or are you cold?”

“I’m okay.” He raises his drink. “This is helping.”

We wander around the pier, through an old arcade museum, which he’s marginally interested in, and then we walk to the edge of the dock overlooking the bay and Alcatraz.

“It’s not very pretty here, is it?” he asks.

I look around, trying to view it from an aesthetic standpoint. Compared to Malibu, he’s got a solid point, but I love the water, so I might be biased. “It’s not the Maldives,” I say.

“Have you been?”

“I don’t even know where it is,” I tell him.

“Indian Ocean,” he says. “Wait—did you know I’ve been there?”

I nod.

“How?”

“Your Instagram.”

“Oh. Well, yeah. Top notch resorts and beaches.”

“Good to know.”

“Why were you looking at my Instagram?” he asks.

“Do you ask all your followers that?”

“I—what kind of question is that?”

I turn to him, arrested by his face all over again. “Why do you think I look?”

“To be clear—you do realize I have a penis, right?”

“I thought we covered this last night.”

“I barely remember what I said last night,” he says, and even I can tell he’s lying. “Girl, boy—that can mean anything these days. I’m talking about my literal anatomy.”

“Your penis. Yeah, I got it. You’re not always wearing pants on Instagram.”

“Have you ever hooked up with a person with a penis before?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

He frowns, studying my face for a moment, then says, “And for some reason, you think you want to with me.”

More than he could possibly know. If he knew how much I wanted to kiss him right now he’d probably jump into the bay. “Is that so unbelievable?”

“I mean I guess I’m flattered?” he says, returning his gaze to Alcatraz .

“Is that why you showed up today?” I ask. “More flattery?”

“I’m not sure why I did, honestly. Peer pressure was involved.”

“You can leave at any time.”

“I know. I’m curious, too, I guess.”

“That works for me,” I tell him.

“You’re cute, Samuel.”

Ouch. “Not sure anyone’s ever called me that before.” I say. “Didn’t realize how condescending it would sound.”

Calyx drops his face into his hands and lets out something like a growl. “It was a fucking compliment.”

“A really patronizing one.” That’s a better word. Either way, 'cute’ feels like shit. In any case, I’m officially ready to call it a day. This man doesn’t do “cute.” He does suave, sophisticated. Handsome.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and it sounds pitiful.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, refusing to let one more rejection from him get to me.

I more or less expected it. It’s why I brought him here in the middle of the day instead of suggesting a more intimate place in the evening.

Being blown off doesn’t feel as serious in broad daylight. “Did you drive here?”

Calyx whips around to face me. “That’s it?”

“Feels like it,” I say, as straightforward as I can be while I try not to let the sting of rejection penetrate my chest.

“Look—do you wanna come back to my place?” he blurts, his cheeks rosy pink and his lips even redder from the wind.

The sudden question is mind-blowing. “What?”

“Not to like—hook up or whatever—but this is all very distracting.” He makes a generalized gesture at me, the bay, the pier. “I’ve been out almost all weekend, and I think if we just go home—maybe we can make more sense of this.”

I don’t see how. At all. Unless he doesn’t want to be seen with me, which—who knows? “I don’t think coming home with you is gonna change the fact that I’m attracted to you, and you’re not attracted to me.”

“I never said that.”

“It was heavily implied with the cute thing. The sea lions are cute. Baby goats are cute.”

“Cute can mean attractive, too. People call me cute all the time. I don’t show them the door when they do.”

“Is that how you meant it?” I ask. “Really?”

“I meant I might be interested, but I need to think.”

“Interested in what?” I ask.

“Figuring you out?”

That’s not technically what I wanted to hear. “I’m not that complicated.”

“You don’t think?”

To say I don’t understand this man would be a massive understatement.

Am I as confusing as he’s acting like I am?

Was what I said to him on the dance floor as out of the blue as him inviting me back to his place?

I felt like the fact that I danced with him at all—that I shoved my tongue down his throat the first chance I got would be a big enough hint I’m into him, but maybe he thought I was too hypnotized by his beauty to think logically.

I mean—that’s always a factor, but it doesn’t take a lot of brain power to know I want him—or for him to be able to tell I do.

“No,” I say. “But if you want me to come home with you, I’ll go.”

“And you’ll keep your expectations low?”

I roll my eyes, and he makes a horrified face. I say, “We can talk from different rooms if you want.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” he says, looking more flustered than I’ve ever seen him, already walking past me to the pier. “Did you drive here?”

“Yes,” I say, catching up .

“I Ubered. You want to give me a ride?”

“Sure.”

I arrived early enough to get a decent parking space, and after a quick walk down the block, I open the door to my Porsche for him. Calyx doesn’t look unimpressed.

He tells me his address, and I plug it into my map app so he doesn’t have to give me directions.

He looks good in the seat beside me, not that I had any doubt that he would, but it’s a nice sight watching him try to get his hair out of its windblown disarray using the passenger side mirror.

For someone who doesn’t want to be judged on his looks alone, he certainly spends a lot of time on them, which is—in fact— cute .

Halfway up the first hill I encounter, he notices I’m working the stick shift. “They still make cars like this?” he asks.

“Sure.”

“Why would you want one of these in San Francisco?”

“I lived in LA when I got it. It’s fun. You know how to work one?”

“No. I’d be terrified on these hills.”

“Yeah, they’re a challenge, but I like it,” I tell him. “Anyway, it comes naturally after a while.”

“I guess.”

Calyx’s hands are folded between his slightly spread thighs now that he’s done perfecting his hair. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

“I could eat.”

“What do you like? I can order something and have it on the way.”

“I could always go for a sandwich.”

He reads me the menu from a sandwich place while I let the app navigate me to his neighborhood. I decide on a cheesesteak, no onions. He doesn’t tell me what he gets .

By the time he looks up from his phone, I’m a hundred feet from his apartment. He directs me to the underground parking garage and hands me a card to badge myself in. “Just park wherever,” he tells me. “It’s not assigned.”

My nerves kick up as I’m angling into a spot near the elevator. I’m not trying to get myself kicked in the nuts today, but I have a feeling that might be what’s about to happen—metaphorically speaking.

We don’t talk as he leads me to the elevator, nor as it takes us to the second floor. He doesn’t say a word, in fact, until we’re entering his apartment through a kitchen door where there’s a cat yowling at my feet.

A very, very, pretty cat.

“That’s Siva,” he says, taking off his coat and crossing the room to hang it on a hook near the front door. The cat follows him. He swoops her into his arms and buries his face in her neck fur.

I look at my watch, feeling a little irresponsible about leaving Beauty alone now that I’ve basically been shot down.

Maybe I shouldn’t be thinking that way. I’m inside Calyx’s apartment after all—in private. But I get the impression I’m here so he can set me straight in a less public place. So to speak.

“Drink?” he asks. “There’s alcohol.”

“Water,” I tell him.

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