Chapter Seven
Liam
I'M SPRAWLED OUT on the gym floor, sweat dripping from my brow, catching my breath after another intense jiu-jitsu session.
My muscles scream for mercy as I push myself up off the floor.
I've been going at it for hours now, trying to perfect my form and technique.
But damn, do I feel like I could take on the world.
"Nice work today, Liam," my instructor says, giving me a nod of approval. I grunt in response, too exhausted to form actual words.
Dragging my ass into the locker room, I peel off my sweat-soaked shirt, my joints silently protesting as I do. They didn't use to do that. Is this what thirty is supposed to feel like?
I catch my reflection in a wall-mounted mirror and resist the urge to inspect my face for fresh lines.
Instead, I grab my jeans from my locker and pull out my phone to snap an obligatory progress selfie.
Just as I unlock it, the phone vibrates in my palm, with an incoming call and Xander's name looming on the screen.
So much for trying to sweat him out of my system for the past two hours.
I hover my thumb over the screen and hesitate.
The reasonable thing to do would be to ignore it, but something tells me he'll just keep on trying. Even the damn buzzing seems more persistent than usual. With a heavy heart, I accept the call.
I fully intend to keep my cool and tell him to leave me alone, but his smile hits me like a fucking ray of sunshine as he says, "Morning, friend," and the corners of my mouth curl up.
I raise my brow and glance at his tousled hair, the blond locks contrasting with what looks to be a burgundy pillow. His sharp collar bone is visible in the frame and unless he's wearing a very low cut tank top, he appears to be shirtless.
I lean side-wise against a locker, the cool metal pressing against my bare skin, and hold the phone in front of my face. "You do know it's almost noon, right?"
Xander takes a lazy inhale and tucks one forearm behind his head. "Why, of course. I actually just finished my 5k run after I walked a few shelter dogs and washed my neighbor's windows."
"And then you woke up?"
He grins, his sleepy eyes still not fully open. "Oh, come on. It's Sunday. Besides…" There's some rustling, and the background behind his head changes as he rolls onto his stomach. "I had a hard time falling asleep after I ran into a certain bouncer last night. Let’s just say things got… heated.”
He's holding his phone a little further from his face now, the top of his pecks appearing at the bottom of the screen. Definitely shirtless. I force my eyes off the screen and onto the camera lens. "Ran into, huh? That's not exactly how I remember it."
"Oh, that? No, no. I mean the bouncer I saw after you. I actually forgot all about you."
I sigh. If only that were true. "So why exactly are you calling? Besides telling me all about your imaginary workout?"
"Hey!" He mocks offence. "I do work out."
My eyes drop to the bottom of the screen before I can stop them. "I can tell."
Shit. That'll send the wrong message.
Xander bites down on the corner of his bottom lip and looks to the side, as if he's contemplating something.
I don't rush him, letting him have whatever mental debate he's having.
Finally, he says, "Honestly? I blame you.
Yeah." He nods, agreeing with himself. "You've been living rent free in my head.
And I have no idea what to do about it. So there. You solve this."
I chuckle under my breath. "I don't think I have the power to control your thoughts, Xander."
He looks to the side again, eyes squinting. "You kinda do."
The second he says it, a fresh wave of heat courses through my body. My voice comes a little raspy as I say, "That's a lot of power."
Xander looks at the screen, eyes still narrowed, and I can only assume he's searching my face. "And that's what you want, isn't it? Power?"
I clench my jaw and swallow, trying my best not to let the words get to me, but I feel them in my balls regardless, and I can't help but wonder if he's doing that on purpose.
If he's somehow able to see through me. He has the brain for it, that's for sure.
I shake my head, and run my palm over my face. "I don't get you, man." I really don't.
Unfazed, he shrugs one shoulder. "Ask, then. Ask and I'll tell you."
That's the last thing I should do. I know that.
But there's something about his way of…well, being.
So straightforward, so effortless, a part of me wishes I could be more like him.
Just a little bit. "Alright," I finally say, pushing myself off the locker.
I stroll around the space, my eyes darting to every nook, making sure it's empty, even though I know it is.
"I guess… I guess I want to know why? Why are you so relentless in pursuing something you don't even know you want?
" He opens his mouth and inhales, but I cut him off before he can argue.
"You don't know, Xander. You've no way of knowing.
" I'm now pacing aimlessly along the endless rows of lockers, my footsteps echoing off the walls. “And trust me, there’s a ninety-nine percent chance whatever you end up doing, you’ll regret.”
He tilts his head to the side, his hair falling onto his forehead, and stays silent for a few seconds. Then, he says, "Doesn't matter. I still want to try."
"And do you always just…do what you want? Just like that?" I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.
Again, he takes a moment to consider. "Yep. Pretty much."
I give him a half-smile, trying to cover the pang of nostalgia swirling in my brain, because I get it now. I cracked him. Life hasn't had a chance to break him yet, and a part of me wishes we could trade places, even if for a moment.
"Speaking of the things I want," his cheery voice contrasting my internal state catches me off guard and I lose a sense of space for a second, bumping my knee against the nearest bench.
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't, so I prompt, "Yes?"
The image on the screen changes to white, then to light blue, then to tan and the next thing I see has me stopping in my tracks and my muscles going rigid even more so than they did during my training.
Xander's holding his phone away from his face and body, angling it down so that I can glimpse his black boxer briefs, hugging his hips tightly.
His decently muscular thighs are visible on the bottom, and above that, he's running a single finger up, along the thick outline of…
Oh, for fuck's sake. "Don't," I manage to utter, even though my jaw is all but clenched.
My eyes snap up to the top of the screen where Xander quirks an eyebrow, and that does nothing to stop my blood from rushing south. Why does he have to be so handsome? Did I ever notice it before? I can hardly remember. "Don't what?" The innocence in his voice contradicts his current state.
I will not look down. I won't. I go for the driest voice I can produce. “Don't play with fire. You'll get burned."
"Hmmm," he sighs, and even though my eyes are still fixed on his, I don't miss how his palm flattens against his cock and he gives himself what looks like a fun massage.
"But it's so warm and cozy near the fire.
" His left thigh shifts as he spreads his legs slightly.
"It's a cold, harsh world out there. I can't think of a better place to be.”
I spin on my heel so that I’m faced away from the lockers and I lean back.
Instead of gently connecting with the surface, my body slams into it with a loud, metallic thump.
All my movements are like that now—a little rougher than usual, a little more forceful, more angular.
Complete opposite to Xander's as he gently lifts his hips from the mattress in a miniscule movement and rolls them up, pressing his cock against his open palm that glides up and down with ease, like he's the wind, a light breeze that keeps the fire burning, melting away my icy resolve with each passing second.
An unpleasant squeak jerks me into reality, followed by lazy footsteps coming from somewhere around the corner, letting me know I'm no longer alone.
It's a split second decision, really. I'm one tap away from ending the call and putting a stop to all this.
Instead, my body shoots up straight as I pace toward the bathrooms, grabbing my towel on my way and I enter the shower area, stepping into the nearest stall and closing the door behind me.
My heart is pumping, and I don't think it's from almost getting caught.
With my eyes still roaming the screen, I press my back against the cold tiles and let the water run next to me.
"You're gonna get me in trouble." I make sure my words are eaten up by the rumble of the stream, only for Xander to hear.
Unperturbed, he shoots me a wild grin, exposing a row of perfectly straight teeth as his body continues to work on getting himself off. "Call me trouble, then."
And fuck if those words don't shoot straight to my groin. Where did a straight guy learn to talk like that, anyway?
The second that thought pops into my brain, it's like I get an ice bucket thrown at my face, despite of the air getting misty from the scalding stream.
Because that's what he is—straight, and I've no business engaging.
Maybe if I repeat that in my brain over and over again, the reality will finally sink in.
"You have to stop, Xander," my mouth says, while my brain rebels against the words. It's a fucking uneven battle. "And I don't mean just now. In general, you gotta stop chasing after me. Nothing is ever going to happen. You hear me? Nothing.”
Was that convincing enough?