Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PERCY
“Breathe,” Butch reminds me in that deep, encouraging voice of his. “I know it’s a lot, but you can do it. Bear down and keep breathing.”
My body quakes and I can feel the beads of sweat forming, rolling down my skin and dripping from my forehead.
“I can’t,” I gasp. “It’s too much.”
“It’s not too much.” The smallest hint of authority infuses Butch’s usually laid-back tone, making me think maybe he’s right. Maybe I can handle it, even if it feels like I can’t.
You’re in charge of your body. You tell it what to do.
His inspiring words from our climb over the weekend echo in my ears, and I dig deep, pulling on a well of strength inside of myself I didn’t even know I had.
A loud grunt bubbles up from my gut and tightens in my throat as I push as hard as I can and manage to move the leg press with all two hundred and seventy pounds of weight attached to it.
“Hell yeah!” He whoops. “Four more. You’ve got this. Rocky the fucking beast.” Butch cheers me on.
And, holy shit, I’m actually doing it. I pant and grunt my way through the set, and then he offers me his hand to help me up.
Butch doesn’t stop at just helping me up though, he tugs me towards him, and I have no choice but to let him, now that my legs are nothing but jelly.
Is he going to kiss me? My stomach flutters and my breath catches.
But the way our bodies finally collide isn’t a kiss at all, he chest bumps me and whoops again.
The motion startles a laugh out of me and makes something entirely new bloom in my gut. The chest bump is such a bro way to celebrate a win, and lord help me, I kind of love it.
“I can’t believe I did that much.” I eye the weight setting just to be sure that I didn’t stick the pin in the wrong spot and now I’m celebrating for nothing.
But, nope, it’s right there in the two-seventy notch.
“I’m sure you can leg press, like, three times that.
It’s kind of dumb to be excited about it. ”
“Rocky—” His voice has that hint of sternness that makes the excited fluttering in my stomach all about him again. “—what did I tell you at your very first training session?”
“That I’m only competing against myself.” I paraphrase that first pep talk that’s been burned into my head, along with the memory of the intense way he held my gaze when he gave it.
“Exactly. That’s the most you’ve leg pressed. That makes it a win. Plus, you beat your mile time this morning. Think about how far you’ve come since that first session a few weeks ago.”
I can feel myself standing a little taller, a smile spreading across my face, and a sense of confidence I never expected fills up my chest like a balloon.
He’s right—only a few weeks and I feel like a different person already.
I’m stronger, but more importantly, I know what I’m capable of when I push myself.
“Thanks to you.”
Butch shakes his head and puts his hand on my shoulder. His touch is warm, and I can’t stop myself from leaning into it as he gives my shoulder a gentle, encouraging squeeze.
“Nah, Rocky, thanks to you. I’m just the hard-ass who won’t let you give up.”
I sputter another laugh and bite my bottom lip, fighting the urge to fling my arms around his neck and hug him.
He crawled back into my tent the second night of our camping trip too, claiming he was cold even though he showed up in nothing but his boxers and a tank top, just like the first time.
And we kissed again, but he didn’t push for more.
I’m glad he didn’t, but I haven’t had the guts to ask what any of it meant.
Was he really just cold? Is it possible he might like me, even a little?
He squeezes my shoulder again and nods towards the locker room. “You worked up a sweat today. Grab a shower if you need to, and I expect to see you back here on Wednesday morning, ready to add some more distance to your warm-up run.”
I glance over my shoulder and suppress the shudder that wants to run through me.
There’s something uniquely intimidating about a gym locker room that I’m just not ready to tackle.
Maybe one day, but I think I’ve done enough hard things for one morning.
Plus, I think I need to gather up all my courage for a different task.
“Do you… um… have another client right away after me?” I glance around at other men jogging on the treadmills or spotting each other lifting, because that’s a lot easier than looking at Butch.
“Not for half an hour.”
“Jones called to cancel,” Callan says from behind the front desk. “So, you’ve got two hours until your next client.”
I wince at the reminder that the guys here always seem to be listening.
“Cool. I have to get to campus in a little bit, but do you think we could go get a smoothie next door and talk?” I keep my voice as casual as possible, but when I finally do look at Butch, he’s wearing that big, goofy smile.
“Totally,” he says without hesitation. “Let’s go.”
I snag my messenger bag off the floor near the desk as we pass, with my change of clothes folded neatly inside so I can change in my office when I get to campus, plus all the graded essays I have to return today.
Butch’s hand moves from one shoulder to the other, so his arm is stretched around me, the weight of it comforting and confusing at the same time.
My stomach twists and pulses with waves of nerves.
Maybe I don’t need to out myself to Butch.
The only reason to tell him is if I’m honestly delusional enough to think he might be interested in me.
What are the chances? The memory of his mouth moving against mine in the dark makes my heart race.
Fuck, but I want him to be interested in me.
Even if it’s only physical, just a fling with a gorgeous, sweet guy like Butch that will never last. I deserve that, don’t I?
I can practically hear Juno shouting in my ear “Yes, you fucking deserve that!”
Even if nothing else comes of it, I genuinely like Butch. I think maybe we’re becoming actual friends. And I want him to know me.
With my internal debate taking up most of my attention, I’m surprised when I realize it’s our turn to order.
Butch orders a super greens protein smoothie, and I get the same because I’m way too jumbled to actually read the menu and make any decisions right now.
Once we have our drinks, we grab a table near the front window and sit down.
BUTCH
Percy fidgets with his straw and shifts in his seat like he can’t get comfortable, shooting me a tight smile when his chair scrapes noisily against the tile floor.
“Fuck, I’m nervous,” he mutters, taking a sip of his smoothie and then wrinkling his nose. “Ugh, this tastes like someone put grass in a blender.”
I chuckle. “You get used to it.” I take a sip of my own, keeping my eyes on him the whole time. Why is he nervous? I figured he wanted to talk about that kiss. Or kisses. But why should that make him anxious? Maybe he just needs me to get things started. “Listen—”
“I have to—” Percy says at the same time.
We both stop talking and he huffs out a laugh.
“Go ahead.” I bounce my knee under the table. His nerves are making me nervous. Maybe he wanted to talk to let me down gently? Buy me a smoothie and tell me I’m not his type?
“Okay, I’m not exactly sure how to do this, so I’m just going to rip the Band-Aid off.” His eyes roam over to the window, and he folds his straw wrapper into a tiny accordion, his knee bumping mine under the table with our shared anxious bouncing. “I’m trans.”
My leg stops bouncing and I blink at him in surprise.
That definitely wasn’t what I was expecting him to tell me.
His attention is still fixed on the people walking past the large window, which gives me a few seconds to get my face under control, so he won’t see the shock and think that I have a problem with him at all.
I just… had no idea. And as I look at him, taking in the light shadow of stubble on his chin and the masculine shape of his body.
I remember him grinding against me when we kissed, but did I actually feel his dick?
I feel like my brain is an old computer about to overheat from the strain of trying to work the whole thing out.
“That’s cool, Rocky… or, wait… shit… is that like deadnaming you? Have I been getting your pronouns wrong the whole time?”
He finally jerks his attention away from the window, and when his eyes land on me, there’s a sparkle of… something in them. Amusement? Affection? It’s hard to tell. He shakes his head, his lips pressed together like he’s trying not to laugh.
“No. I was…” He clears his throat and shakes his head again, then starts over.
“I am a man, it just took some medical help to get everything right.” He says it confidently, shifting forward in his seat and leaning over the table just a little bit towards me.
“I’m going to take that as my third big win for today though that you assumed I was assigned male. ”
I run my eyes over him again, and, yeah, there’s absolutely nothing feminine about him.
A flutter moves through me too. Not that his gender has anything to do with me, but I can’t help a few seconds of selfish relief.
If he was telling me he was really a woman, then this crush that’s been growing since he first stepped into Sweat would have come crashing down.
I’m gay, so if he was actually a she, that would have thrown a real wrench into things.
But he’s a dude, so at least that’s one crisis averted.
“That’s cool,” I say a second time, not sure what else you’re supposed to say when someone comes out as trans. Shit, am I fucking this up? Then another thought hits me. “Wait, is that why you said you only wanted to kiss?”
Percy’s cheeks pink and he takes another sip of his smoothie, making that same disgusted face, then pushing the drink away from himself like he’s worried if it’s too close, he’ll accidentally keep drinking it.
“It’s complicated, but basically, yeah. If we did anything more than kissing, certain things would have been super obvious, and it’s not really the kind of thing I wanted to explain for the first time in the heat of the moment…
or out in the woods in the middle of the night.
” He grimaces, and my stomach drops, the small amount of smoothie in my gut turning to cement.
“You thought I might hurt you or something?” I choke out the words as all the air shrivels in my lungs.
His eyes go wide, and his expression turns immediately apologetic. Percy reaches across the table towards me but stops short before his hand connects with mine.
“No, not really, I just…” He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. “You have to be cautious when you’re trans, that’s all.”
The worry I had a second ago that he thought I might be capable of hurting him turns into something else, something white hot that churns in my gut and surges through my veins.
“Has anyone ever hurt you when you told them? Tell me who and I’ll—”
“Butch.” He puts his hand on mine and squeezes my fingers. “Calm down. No one has hurt me. Like I said, I was just being cautious.”
“Oh.” I let out a breath and manage to relax. “Good, because if anyone ever does…”
The worry on Percy’s face turns into a smile, but there’s a spark of defiance in his eyes. “I can take care of myself, Butch. I always have.”
I grunt and nod. I would protect any one of my friends, and Percy definitely qualifies.
If anyone hurts him—hell, if anyone even gives him shit—I’ll tear their arms off.
I didn’t know it until now, but I think that’s what I’ve been training my whole life for.
To protect… people. People who matter to me…
like Percy. But I get his need to protect himself too.
“We should push harder on your weight training, get you strong enough to rip arms out all on your own.”
His eyes widen and he sputters another laugh.
“We’ll add arm tearing to my goals,” he says. “Oh, shoot, I have to go, or I’ll miss my bus.” He jumps up out of his chair, grabs his drink, then pauses to look at me. “So, we’re cool, right? You still want to be my personal trainer?”
“Of course I do. Why the hell would that change anything?”
“Thanks, Butch,” he says quietly, then hurries out, taking his drink with and chucking it into the garbage on his way.
I watch through the window as he jogs down the block to the bus stop.
I haven’t been with a trans guy before, but who cares?
I try to imagine what difference it could possibly make and come up with nothing.
Before he came out to me, I thought he had a cute ass, a sweet smile, and more strength and ambition than he realizes.
None of that has changed. If anything, it just makes me more impressed with his strength, knowing what he probably had to go through just to be himself.
It also doesn’t change the fact that he’s probably not interested in anything long term with a meathead like me. But that’s fine too. Percy’s turning into an itch I’m dying to scratch, and I think he feels the same way. At least, I hope he does.