Chapter 1
CHAPTER
ONE
PRESENT DAY
SAWYER
I cue up the latest dance mix I’ve curated for the gym I work at and do a quick spin as Duo Lipa sings about dancing the night away. *clap clap*
As the front desk manager for Mars Fitness, I hold the reins to the gym’s sound system. It’s a part of my job that I take very seriously—good music is as key to an effective workout as pre- and post-stretches.
Across the lobby, behind the juice bar, Logan’s head starts bobbing along with the beat. When the chorus comes around again, we both lift our hands up and double-clap at the same time. He points at me and cups his mouth with his other hand.
“Woo!” he yells, and I “Woo!” right back at him.
“And these two lives of the party are Sawyer—” Beau, one of the gym’s owners, nods at me, then over toward the juice bar, “—and Logan.”
Beau is our default tour guide and he’s got funny anecdotes for every feature of our facility—including the bowls of lube and condoms we stock in the locker rooms. “As long as everyone is a consenting adult,” is our motto, and we pay very selective attention to what goes on in the showers and steam room.
Beau gestures to the guy who came in earlier asking about memberships. “This is Fitz. He’s new to the city and wants to join Mars.”
“Awesome!” I reach over the counter and hold my hand up for a high-five. “Welcome to Mars!”
Fitz laughs and slaps his palm against mine. “Thanks.”
He looks a little shell-shocked. Behind his trendy glasses, bluish-gray eyes dart between all of us like he doesn’t know who to focus on.
It’s a typical response for newcomers to Mars.
We can be a lot to absorb at first, but once a member settles in, we pride ourselves on creating a safe and inclusive community.
“I’ll leave you in Sawyer’s capable hands.” Beau shakes Fitz’s hand, then turns away.
Meanwhile, I grab a tablet and pull up the registration forms. “How long have you been in the city, Fitz?”
He smiles widely, eyes sparkling as he peers at me through his glasses and a deep dimple forms in his left cheek. Damn. A dimple. So freaking cute.
“Just got in yesterday.”
I hold the tablet toward him and Fitz reaches out to grab it. But he doesn’t take it, and I don’t let go either. We’re connected across the counter by the tablet and suddenly the music and constant clang of the gym dims just a little.
“And looking for a gym to join already,” I say, my voice pitched a little lower.
“What else is a gay supposed to do in a new city?” he responds, sounding a little breathless.
“In that case, you’ve come to the right place.”
Fitz’s eyes travel lazily down my body and up again. “I think you might be right.”
I hold his gaze for a moment before nodding to the tablet we’re both still holding. “Just need you to fill out all the forms—there are quite a few—and bring it back whenever you’re done.”
I nudge the tablet in his direction and he takes it, holding it to his chest like I’ve given him a precious gift.
“You can grab a seat at one of the tables.” I gesture to the cafe-sized tables that dot the lobby between the front desk and the juice bar.
“Thanks,” Fitz murmurs coyly as he turns away.
I watch as he walks to the closest empty table.
He’s wearing pastel-green shorts that end just above his knee, but are tight enough to reveal a well-rounded bubble butt and strong thighs.
Below them are nicely defined calves, and when he turns around, his shins are dusted with a thin layer of dark hair.
The front of his shorts isn’t tented or anything, but there’s a fullness there that hints at a decently sized package.
His stomach and chest are obscured by his close-fitting polo, but based on the way his shoulders fill out the shirt, they’ll be just as pleasing to the eye.
I meet Fitz’s gaze as he stands beside the table, watching me checking him out. Oops. Caught me. I flash him a quick smile, and ooo, there’s that dimple on his cheek again. Cute.
“New member?”
I drag my attention away from Fitz to find Connor standing off to the side, gym bag slung over his shoulder.
Connor’s been a regular at Mars for a while now, especially after he started dating Donnie, our spin instructor.
He looks pointedly at Fitz, whose head is bowed as he taps on the tablet, then back at me.
“Or should I say, “fresh meat”?” Connor bites back a laugh at his own humor.
“Yeah, fresh meat.” I wiggle my eyebrows as I play into his innuendo.
“You show him the showers yet?”
“Not yet,” I say with a bit of a laugh in my voice. “Beau did the tour, but I’m sure there are some things he forgot to show him.”
“Right.” Connor nods. “Gotta make sure he knows where the condoms and lube are.”
“Yeah, and you know, which shower head has the best water pressure. That sort of thing.” My imagination provides a helpful image of me on my knees in front of Fitz, showing him just how much pressure a head can give.
“I’m guessing yours?” Connor snickers.
“Something like that.”
“Hi… I’m done.”
We both turn to find Fitz a step away, holding up the tablet. How much of that exchange did he hear? From the way he’s looking at me with heat in his eyes, probably the important parts.
I take the tablet from him, purposefully closing my hand over his before letting him slip his hand out from under mine. The touch was brief but more than enough to send pleasant little tingles up my arm.
“Awesome.”
“I’m Connor, by the way.”
Fitz breaks eye contact at Connor’s interruption, and his smile grows from sultry to sheepish, and whew, that’s pretty cute too. “Hi, I’m Fitz.”
“Welcome to Mars. If you’re into cycling, you should definitely try out a spin class. My boyfriend’s the best instructor in the city.”
Fitz nods at the suggestion, but the dimple doesn’t make an appearance. It doesn’t mean anything, but there’s a tiny seed of satisfaction at the revelation. Dimples don’t come out when Fitz is being polite. They come out when he’s flirting.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”
“Speaking of which—” I glance at the big clock behind the desk, then at Connor. “Aren’t you late?”
“Yup!” Connor gives the counter a light tap and a knowing smile. “See you around, Fitz.”
Once Connor’s out of earshot, Fitz leans against the counter, resting his forearms across the top. It brings him a little closer to where I’m standing on the other side. “Everyone’s so friendly here.”
“Uh huh, we’re all about the community.”
Fitz dips his head an inch and even through his glasses, I can see him peering at me through his thick, dark lashes. “Fresh meat?”
Oh yeah. He definitely overheard my conversation with Connor. Oops. At least he doesn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, he looks even more interested.
“Fresh meat,” I repeat, tacitly confirming his implied question.
There’s another moment of us gazing into each other’s eyes before an especially loud clang from the main floor breaks through our little bubble. I clear my throat and wake up the tablet to check the forms Fitz filled out.
Mars has a reputation in the city’s LGBTQ community as a prime hook-up location for queer men.
It’s understandable when we have a steady stream of guys coming through, each one more muscle-bound than the last. I’m the first to admit that I’ve sampled the wares—not all the time, but every once in a while when someone catches my eye.
Someone cute with dark hair and light eyes, perhaps with a dash of nerdy. Someone like Fitz.
A scan of Fitz’s forms doesn’t turn up any glaring omissions. I wave him down toward the computer at the end of the desk. “Everything looks good. Let me print out a membership card for you.”
Once I’ve double-checked all the info on the card, I click print.
“You also get one free session with our personal trainers,” I ask as I crouch down under the desk to grab a new member gym bag filled with Mars swag. “Would you like to book that now?”
“Can I book the session with you?”
I surge to my feet. Or at least, I try to. I don’t quite clear the edge of the desk and bang my head on the way up. “Ow, fuck.”
“Oh shit! Are you okay?” Fitz’s eyes are wide as he stands on his tiptoes. His hands are planted on the top of the counter like he’s going to hoist himself over it. “Come here. Let me see.” He waves me toward him.
I rub at the tender spot. “It’s fine. I didn’t hit it that hard.” Still, I bend my head and turn away from Fitz to present him with my booboo.
Gentle fingers brush through my hair, too softly for any real assessment, but even then, I lean into the touch. “Hmm. I think you’ll be fine.” The fingers glide down my neck and across my shoulder before dropping away.
When I turn to face him again, his expression of concern has turned into something more heated.
“I can give you a more thorough examination, though. I know a thing or two about brains.”
Like how to suck them out of my dick?
I don’t say that out loud, of course. I’m a gentleman. “Perhaps when my shift ends? I’m here till closing, unfortunately.”
Fitz checks the time on his phone. “I can make that work,” he says, dimple coming out to play.
Can someone develop a Pavlovian response to a dimple? Because I wouldn’t be averse to trying.
Someone else comes up to the counter. “Hey, can I grab a towel, please?”
I reluctantly move away from Fitz to pluck a freshly laundered towel from the stack behind me. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
I turn back to Fitz. “Uh, where were we?” I ask, distracted by the dimple that’s still visible on his cheek.
“Personal training session?” The dimple deepens.
“Oh yeah, right. Um, you asked if you could book a session with me. No, sorry, I’m not a personal trainer, unfortunately.”
The disappointment in his eyes is palpable. “That’s too bad.”
“But we’ve got some of the best guys in the city.” I click a few buttons on the computer to pull up the gym’s personal training schedule. “They’ll really put you through your paces.”