Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
PERCY
I didn’t think it was possible for my body to hurt this much.
I thought exercise was supposed to give you endorphins, not make you feel like you’ve been hit by a bus.
I manage to keep a brave face on until the last of the students has filed out of the lecture hall, then I collapse into the nearest chair with an audible groan.
“You’re only going to feel worse tomorrow.” Juno doesn’t sound the least bit sympathetic, and I don’t bother to lift my head.
“How is that helping me?” I grumble.
The chair next to mine screeches against the tile floor and I lift my gaze just enough to see Juno sliding into it.
“Not helping, just warning.” They pat my arm, and I groan again. “I was thinking…”
“No,” I say automatically. I already know what they’re going to say. “I was thinking…” always means that they want to get laid and want me to come with them to whatever club or bar they’ve chosen as their hunting ground for the night as moral support.
“Pleeeeease?”
“I’m dying,” I remind them.
“Counterpoint—” They lean forward and grin at me like that creepy disappearing cat in Alice in Wonderland. “—if you are dying from light exercise, do you really want to die a virgin?”
“That’s just mean.” I aim a kick at them and miss. “Besides, I’m not a virgin. I had plenty of sex before my surgeries, and my oral skills are renowned throughout Boystown.”
Juno sighs and switches tactics, giving me the big Bambi eyes. “You can put all your drinks on my tab for the whole night.”
“And you make me breakfast tomorrow morning,” I barter.
“Deal.” They bounce in their seat and clap their hands victoriously. “And for what it’s worth, I think you should wear that crop top tonight.”
“Quit while you’re ahead,” I advise, dragging my fingers through my hair and blowing out a breath. “And I’m going to need help getting out of this chair.”
“What are friends for?” Juno hops up, grabs my arm, and hauls me unceremoniously to my feet, ignoring my yelp of agony.
“Gym bros are masochists. That’s the only explanation.” I look helplessly at my messenger bag, sitting on the floor a few feet away.
Juno takes pity on me, skipping over to pick it up. What a showoff.
“It gets better the longer you stick to it,” they assure me, shouldering my bag before looping their arm through mine to lead me out of the classroom.
“Then why don’t you go to the gym?”
“Because running outside is free.” Juno flicks my earlobe, and I glare at them. “How was the hottie at the gym today?”
I scoff, but my stomach squirms and my mind fills with the image of Butch’s soft, encouraging expression when he gave me that pep talk on the treadmill.
“If there was a hottie at the gym, I would have completely embarrassed myself today anyway, so it really wouldn’t matter.”
“In that case, it sounds like you really need half a dozen drinks and to get hit on by a bunch of strange men,” they declare.
I hate to admit it, but Juno’s probably right.
I’m ready to flirt, and date, and do more than just blow a guy in the bathroom for a scrap of validation and human connection.
My body is healed, and my libido is definitely on board with all of it.
I just need to find the courage to go for it.
And I doubt it will be found sitting home, watching movies and studying.
“Fine, you’re right.”
“So you’ll wear the crop top?” They waggle their eyebrows, and it immediately makes me think of Butch again, tempting me to arm wrestle him.
“No,” I say flatly. “But maybe I’ll finally wear that tight black V-neck you got me for Christmas.”
“That’s going to look so hot on you.” Juno squeezes my poor, sore bicep again.
I wince and pick up my pace a little so we can make it to the bus stop before the next bus comes.
The five o’clock is always mostly filled with other students headed to their off-campus housing, but miss it and end up on the five ten?
Tourists headed back to the train station after a day in the city. Shudder.
Juno chatters away about what they might wear tonight. Their wardrobe swings wildly from masc, to androgynous, to femme, and from “90’s Hot Topic” to modern “Express,” so it’s anybody’s guess how they’ll look on any given day.
As much of a pain in the ass as Juno can be, I don’t know where I’d be without them.
I just wish I had half their confidence and “if you have a problem with me, I’ll fucking bite you” attitude.
Maybe the gym is part of the answer to that.
Not that managing to run a mile without collapsing will grow my dick to average size or anything, but there has to be more to confidence than dick size, doesn’t there?
I already paid for a full month’s membership, so I might as well give it an honest try. If all else fails, I can look at it as a fun anthropological experience—learning how the gymbo behaves in its natural habitat.
And I guess a couple more training sessions with Butch won’t be the worst thing in the world.
BUTCH
“Now there’s a picture for the dating profile.”
With one hand in a bag of barbecue chips and the other casually down my pants, I look over to see Fender actually taking a picture of me with his phone.
“Hey,” I grumble.
“Serious question: What happens if you get those hands mixed up?”
I pull my hand out of the bag and lick the flavored dust off my fingers with a shrug.
“Barbeque nuts, obviously.”
“I’m going to choose to pretend you’re joking and also start buying my own bags of chips to keep in my room.
” He wrinkles his nose and looks me up and down impatiently.
“Seriously though, if you’re going to shower before we go to Crossing Swords, you’d better hurry your ass up.
I’m out the door in ten minutes, with or without you. ”
I groan. I forgot I agreed to go out tonight. Not that I couldn’t use a night out, but I’m already in chill mode. I scratch my balls then pull my hand out of my shorts. “I don’t know.”
“Dude, get your ass up and get in the shower.” He snatches the bag of chips out of my hand and points towards the bathroom.
“You’re not my real dad,” I joke flatly, lifting my arm so I can sniff my pit to check if a shower is actually necessary.
“Another one sure to make all the gays in Chicago drop their panties.” There’s a shutter sound from Fender’s phone as he takes another picture of me.
“Hey, you’re not really going to post those on M4M, are you?”
“Of course not. I’m going to upload them to Sweat’s Instagram.” I hop off the couch and he dances backward with all the grace years of boxing has given him, holding his phone behind his back where I won’t be able to take it from him without a fight. “Unless you go get ready,” he bargains.
“I’m going.” I hold my hands up in surrender. He didn’t need to blackmail me. I was going to drag my ass off the couch and go anyway. I already said I would, and I never break a promise. Besides, I could stand to get laid, if I’m being real about it.
I tug my shirt over my head, ball it up, and chuck it at the laundry basket on my way into the small bathroom.
The pipes groan as I crank the shower on.
The water heater in this building is probably older than I am, which means it usually takes at least three or four minutes to get above Polar Plunge temperatures.
While I wait for the water to heat up, I stick my head back out the bathroom door.
“Yo, Fend, do you know if there’s a rule against dating clients?”
He comes around the corner so fast I stumble back an inch. A big, toothy grin stretches across his face.
“Who do you want to date?”
“Oh… uh…” I scratch the back of my head and shuffle my feet. “No one in particular. I was just wondering.”
“Bullshit,” he says immediately. “Oh, it’s gotta be Reggie. His tattoos are so fucking lickable.” Fender gets a dreamy look on his face and leans against the doorframe. “Or Tim? Not a sexy name, but lordy can that man fill out a pair of shorts.” He fans himself, and I shake my head.
“No. I mean, yeah, they’re both hot, but that’s not…
” I really shouldn’t have brought this up.
Even if we’re allowed to date clients, I doubt I’m Percy’s type.
He probably dates professors or doctors.
My brother Shawn just got accepted into med school, I bet he’d be a lot more up Percy’s alley.
Too bad Shawn is straight… allegedly anyway.
I’ve always suspected he’s actually bi, in denial, and in love with his best friend, but that’s a can of worms for another day.
I frown and clench my fists. Just because I’m not some brainy dude with a fancy-ass college degree doesn’t mean I couldn’t treat him right. Not that I want to date Percy. I don’t even know him. It was just a passing thought. And this is why it’s dangerous to think at all.
Facing the icy water is better than listening to Fender’s questions, so I shed my shorts, chuck them into the hamper, and step into the shower.
Not that it stops him. His voice is muffled by the sound of the water running and the shower curtain between us, but he keeps trying to guess who I might have a thing for.
I could tell him to drop it again, but I’ve known him long enough to know that will never work.
I should have kept my big, dumb mouth shut.