Page 22 of MOM
He pulls back, quirking a dark-blond brow. "We've known each other for less than two months."
"Exactly. That's a long time to wait."
He tilts his head. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"Depends. If what you think I'm saying is that I've been captivated by you and unable to get you out of my head since our very first meeting, then yeah."
He's shaking his head, exasperated and lost for words.
So when words fail…
I bracket his face with both hands and yank him in for a hard, hungry, urgent kiss.
EPILOGUE
Six months later…
Decker
The arena pulses with electric energy as thousands of fans pack the seats. One big bonus of the whole dickslip fiasco? MoM has gone from being a small, outlier federation to bursting into the mainstream.
It's gotten so big that #NaturalBodybuilding has become even hotter than Brat Summer was.
Rocky always offers me the option of watching from the VIP skybooth, but I always decline. Nothing beats being in the thick of it with the crowd. I love standing as close as I can, getting the best view of the man I am head over dumbbells in love with.
Zane returns with hotdogs and sodas. "Sorry that took forever. This place is packed."
"It sure is," I say with a smile, taking one dog and one jumbo-sized cup off his hands. "Thanks."
"I heard skybooth guests have a full buffet with oysters and everything."
I take a bite and look over at him. I should never have told him about the VIP option I keep declining. He's salty, but he'll get over it. "Yeah, well, you're abandoning me tomorrow so we both have something to gripe about."
"Gee, drama much? I'm notabandoningyou. You have a fantastic boyfriend and a great group of new friends. Me? I'm not making it as an actor, so I have to accept that it's not meant for me and go where the work is."
I stuff my face to avoid having this conversationagain.
He could get work in LA if he tried. I've even offered him a role in my PR firm for chrissakes. I don't understand why hehas to move all the way to the other side of the country to be a professional mourner. Yep, that's his new job title.
But, hey, he's a grown man, and it's his life. I may have a fantastic boyfriend and a great group of new friends, but I'm still going to miss my bestie.
"And nowwww." The announcer's voice comes over the speakers. "Please put your hands together for the man who's on a record-breaking winning streak of nineteen rounds. Can he make it lucky number twenty tonight? Make some noise for Rockyyyyy Summerrrrrs."
Rocky emerges from the wings to massive applause and strides confidently onto the brightly lit stage, his bronzed, oil-slicked physique gleaming under the blazing stage lights. He's smiling, scanning the crowd until his eyes land on me.
His smile grows as he blows me a kiss. I blow one right back, beyond happy and excited for him that he got his career back.
And his old outfit.
They may be looser fitting and clearly display a prominent bulge, but there's zero chance of him having another dickslip in boxer briefs.
He waves at the crowd as he moves toward his position at center stage, giving the seven-judge panel a crisp nod.
Before meeting him, and with very scant knowledge of bodybuilding, I assumed the heavy lifting was in the, well, the lifting. But being with Rocky, I now see that the gym training has got nothing on the mental fortitude and discipline needed to stick to an insanely strict diet. The same foods on repeat, water and salt timed, constant cravings he has to ignore through sheer willpower. I'm in awe of how he does it. Youdo notwant to mess with me if I don't get my breakfast muffin.
The cheers die down as Rocky begins the compulsory routine. It's like watching a Greek marble sculpture come to lifeas he seamlessly transitions between poses I'm still learning the names of.
I know some, like the front double bicep he's doing right now, which showcases his massive arms, and the side chest pose that follows, revealing the incredible depth of his torso.