Page 27 of Gym Bros (Bay Area Bros #2)
I let out a soft laugh at his expression. This is definitely going in the win column for me. Who knew it’d be this easy to start racking up victories? “Netflix and chill?” I say.
“Be serious, Samuel. I’m in a robe.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about half the time, which leads me to believe I only get to hear about a quarter of his thoughts. “And you’re welcome to stay in it. You like Marvel movies?”
“What?”
I huff. “That’s what I thought. We’ll start at the beginning then.” I prefer them chronologically, which means we’ll start with Captain America and a pizza.
“Whatever,” he says, pulling open the drawer of a built-in dresser.
I leave him alone, giving a lingering look at the incredible bed as I head back downstairs.
While he’s changing, I open a bottle of red wine with a label I recognize. I figure if I’ve seen this one before, it can’t be too precious. The pizza is on the way, and the movie is cued up when Calyx finally emerges from the bedroom.
“Wow.” He looks at the wine on the coffee table. “This is Netflix and chill?”
“Kinda. Stage one anyway. ”
He is wearing pajamas, but not the kind I was picturing when I suggested it. This is a set with a short sleeved button down top and matching shorts that are quite short. White again, which he looks great in with his gorgeous, sun-kissed skin.
I’m pretty sure it’s a women’s pajama set, but that hardly matters. He looks good in anything. Nothing looks wrong on him. I spare a thought for his undergarments, but before I go too far down that track, I tell him I ordered pizza.
He immediately puts a hand on his stomach. “I can’t eat that .”
I frown. “How far did you run today?”
“I don’t know. Fifty miles?”
“A couple slices of pizza isn’t gonna hurt you. Besides, you’re not working anyway.”
“Ouch. Fine. Maybe I’ll have three slices then.”
I smile and point him toward the couch where his cat is still waiting for him.
He considers the sofa then glances at me. “What’s this movie about?”
“Captain America.”
“Who’s that?”
“You’ll see. He’s important.”
“Is he hot?”
“He’s one of the Chrises.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Calyx says, sitting next to Siva and pulling a blanket off the arm of the couch to cover his legs, which he folds underneath him.
I hand him his glass of wine. “It means you get to decide whether he’s better or worse looking than the other Chrises you’ll meet in the other movies.”
“How many are there?” he asks.
“Chrises or movies? ”
He looks up at me with a totally lost expression. “Both, I guess?”
“Three Chrises, seventeen movies.”
“Seventeen? Holy shit?”
“They’re not all worth watching,” I say as I slide onto the cushion next to his and drape my arm across the back of the couch.
“How many are?”
“Like fourteen, but if we’re doing this…”
“Are we?” he asks, that mildly horrified look back on his face.
I nod seriously. “I think we probably should. Yeah.”
He swallows a mouthful of wine. “Okay. Are you gonna start it?”
“Let’s wait for the pizza to get here,” I tell him. “I hate stopping a movie once it starts. Drink your wine.”
He takes another sip obediently, staring at me over the rim.
His cat is on the blanket in his lap purring wildly.
I’m getting the very strong impression that no one’s ever sat down and watched a movie with him before.
He’s acting like someone just thrust him onto a stage in the middle of a play he doesn’t know any of the lines for. I kind of love it.
It’s the most vulnerable I’ve ever seen him, and it makes me wonder how often he allows people to see him like this.
“What’s your favorite movie?” I ask, pressing for even more.
“ Call Me by Your Name . Have you seen it?”
I sip my own wine and shake my head. “Should I?”
“Probably. It’s gay, though.”
“Is that why you like it?”
“No, I like it because it’s beautiful, and sad.”
Sounds like someone I know . “Not a huge fan of sad movies.”
“What’s the saddest one you’ve seen?” he asks.
“ The Green Mile .”
“I haven’t seen it. ”
“Yeah, I get the feeling there’s not a lot of movie overlap here,” I tell him with a gesture between us.
“No one’s perfect,” he says.
I lean back on the arm of the couch, getting more comfortable. “If you don’t mind the question, why the break from modeling? Since we’ve got some time to kill.”
“Just burnout,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, but then he tucks some hair behind his ear and casts his gaze to the sofa cushion.
“What burned you out about it?”
“Traveling. Castings. Early mornings. Late nights. It’s a grind, you know?”
“Sure.”
“Okay,” he says with a deep breath. “Honestly, there was this one moment that kind of pushed me over the edge and I knew I needed a break.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
He gives me a tentative glance. “There’s this new designer in London—Noel—and he had this amazing new line. Like shockingly gorgeous. I couldn’t wait to wear the clothes. Usually with new designers it’s like—take it or leave it—the job anyway, but I loved this one. I wanted everything.”
There’s a band of tension wrapping around my midsection as he tells the story. Admittedly, I’ve got no idea where it’s headed, but I already hate it.
“It was the same as anything else. I showed up early. Marcus was there because he had two other models—women—in the show and he’s always got to watch out for them because they treat us like meat, you know?”
I frown. Is that why my dad travels to all the shows?
Calyx clears his throat. “Anyway, it was the usual—go there, come over here, let me fix this, sorry I just stabbed you with a fucking needle. Same thing. But like I remember that day, and I have no idea why it stood out, but it did—the way no one looked me in the eyes.
“They looked at my face, like they were making sure my makeup was right and I hadn’t gotten ugly all of a sudden, but no one made eye contact with me.
I started talking. Like babbling, waiting for someone to engage with me, but I got nothing.
And then I walked. I had three looks to show.
And on the runway, same thing. I mean I know it’s about the clothes.
I really, really do. And normally, I’d just stare at a spot straight ahead or into a camera, but this time, I placed at the people in the front rows.
No one was looking at me. They were looking at the clothes. ”
My eyes take a moment to scan him, look at what he’s wearing now, the way the cute pajama set shows him off, exposing collarbones and long golden legs. The way the color white makes the rest of him look like the color has been enhanced. It’s hard to believe no one saw him.
“And I don’t know why,” he says, “it just felt horrible. Like I was a mannequin. Like it didn’t matter that it was me up there, and I was doing good work, but anyway.
I had an anxiety attack. I think I blacked out after that.
I don’t even remember the rest of the walks, but I got paid for the full show, so I must’ve finished it. ”
“Sorry,” I say.
He shakes his head. “It’s stupid. I know my job. I get it. It’s got nothing to do with me . And I made it through a couple more shows that week, but I puked before all of them and after, and then I just needed a break. So it was nothing, really.”
“I’m not gonna try to say I get it, but it does sound like you needed a break.”
He gives me a weak smile and a nod. “It’s not like I was traumatized. Way worse things have happened to some of the other models. ”
“I don’t believe in comparing trauma,” I say. “We all have our limits.”
“I guess.”
“You like teaching yoga, though?”
“I fucking love it.”
I grin. “Lucky me.”
He rolls his eyes and bites down on his smile. “Shut up, Samuel.”
The doorbell rings, and I get up since I don’t have a cat on me.
I bring the pizza box and a ton of paper towels to the coffee table and let Calyx pick the piece he wants.
He picks one that’s somewhere between huge and medium.
I ordered a cheese pizza just to be safe, but now’s as good of a time as any to find out what kind of toppings he likes.
We’re due for a subject change. I wanted to show him a good time, and I figure there’s still a chance.
“I’m not picky,” he says. “As long as it’s not too heavy to pick up, I’ll eat it.”
Good to know. With my slice in hand, I lean back on the couch and hit play, adjusting the volume until it’s just on the verge of way too loud.
Calyx settles into his spot with his pizza and wine, eyes fixed on the screen. “Is that the Chris?” he asks when Chris Evans appears.
“Yes,” I tell him.
He nods thoughtfully. “He’s like an eight.”
I grin, and we quickly get caught up in the movie. I’ve seen them all, but only a couple of times each, and it’s been years since I’ve watched this one.
He comments on the oddest things. “That’s a terrible skirt,” he’ll say when there’s literally not an actress on the screen, and I have to look into the background and guess at which extra’s garment he finds offensive.
Or—“Your abs are better,” he says, which I admit is my favorite random comment.
At one point, about halfway in, he says, “Is this why you wanted to be an MMA fighter?”
I laugh. “No.”
He refills his wine and doesn’t say much more.
I can tell he’s into it, which is great because I realize with this particular movie pick I was running the risk of a lot of eye-rolling. But instead, he laughs at the funny parts and holds his breath in the tense moments.
To be honest, I’m paying way more attention to him out of the corner of my eye than I am the movie, but it’s just as good of a show. When he scoots closer to me and stretches his legs out on the couch, I take a chance and put my arm around him.
He rests his head on my chest and wraps an arm around my waist, letting out a contented sigh. He’s exactly where I want him, and I also, finally relax.
His proximity is like a warm light I want to lose myself in. I also want to touch him everywhere . The blanket is still covering him from the waist down, but I want to slide my hand beneath it, into his short shorts and see if there are any surprises there.
I want to kiss his head and smell his hair, and I also wouldn’t protest if he wanted to lower his hand a little.
I focus on the screen, on Chris Evans who I don’t find appealing at all, though I see why other people would, and try like hell not to get an erection, because in these shorts, it won’t be subtle. I tame myself with a combination of mindful breathing and attention to the movie.
Then, just as the credits are about to roll, his hand does move, slipping behind the waistband of my shorts and expertly locating my dick. A second later, it’s out in the open, semi-erect, wrapped in his hand, and sliding past his soft, perfect lips.