Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
“Maybe you need to try and meet someone else to help you nuke those other feelings you have for Marcello,” she muses, almost as if the thought just crossed her mind.
“Someone else?”
“Yeah, get back on Grindr. Do your thing. Find another olive-skinned, Mediterranean, man-bun-toting bloke to swoon over.”
I open my mouth to ask her if I had given her that advice as she ‘swooned’ over Chloe from afar for a year, would she have taken it. But that would reveal everything. Besides, she and I both know the answer.
I do start to wonder if Radia is right. Maybe my feelings for Marcello will die down eventually. Maybe I can prioritise us being friends. Maybe if I did meet someone else I wanted to sleep with so I had a good reason to stop the sex lessons, maybe everything would fall into place.
My stomach lurches but I don’t know exactly why.
Is it because I can’t stand the thought of sleeping with someone else, not after what happened yesterday?
Is it because being friends would just be too damned hard without knowing I can have him in my bed every Sunday, even under the guise of sex lessons?
Is it because I’m starting to doubt that my feelings will just evaporate with time?
I don’t know. I really don’t know.
But I do know that hiding away from Marcello isn’t going to benefit anybody. So I keep my phone in my pocket for the rest of the day and when the time comes I head to the gym with my bag and a heavily rehearsed apology for my behaviour ready in my mind.
*****
“Don’t worry about it.” He slaps my shoulder and then goes back to dead lifting the barbell at his feet.
Well, that was… easy.
That’s not strictly true. Giving him an apology that was honest enough that it had me owning my rudeness yesterday but didn’t go into an in-depth explanation as to why I shut down like that had felt like walking on a tightrope above a deep canyon.
One false move and I would have tumbled into the endless depths below admitting either my feelings for him, or the extent to which I know my counting and cleaning obsession rules my life.
It certainly wasn’t helped with how busy the gym is right now.
We’ve had to stand and wait for more than a few machines as well as space on the mat to do the deadlifts we’re doing now.
But in some ways, it helps. When Marcello and I are in public, a busy space, no less, there’s no room for wondering what he’s thinking, or more accurately, thinking about what happened yesterday.
There’s limited time to question whether I should tell Marcello we should stick to training and stop the sex lessons.
There’s too much surrounding noise for me to hear the internal protest I loudly make to such a suggestion.
Besides, Marcello is doing really well today. He’s hitting new weights. His form is admirable. And he looks fucking great. Arm muscles flexing as he bends over and grips the bar. His calves popping as he straightens up. His breathing steady and measured, just like I taught him.
“Yes, that’s it!” I say, encouragingly. “I think we can add some more to the bar.”
“If you say so,” he replies and that’s new too. No complaining. No debating. No self-deprecation. I find myself smiling at him. “What?” He brings a hand to his face. “Have I got food in my beard or something?”
I think back to what Radia said about how Chloe had commented on Marcello having a spring in his step. I don’t know if it’s the sex lessons or the training, or both, but I like this idea very much.
“Nothing, just proud of my star pupil,” I say and it’s only when I see Marcello’s already pink cheeks darken.
“I mean, the training. That’s what I…” I splutter.
“I know what you meant.” Marcello leans towards me. “But it’s nice to know that you’re giving me a good report here too.”
His reference to the report we discussed while lying naked together on my bed yesterday has an immediate and very noticeable effect on my whole body. My toes tingle in my shoes. The hairs at the back of my head stand up. And my dick, most predictably of all, starts to feel hot and heavy.
I’m going to blame it on that for me asking my next question.
“So, same time this Sunday?”
Marcello wipes the back of his hand across his forehead. “Definitely,” he says, giving me a mischievous wink that does little to zap my body’s reaction. “Oh, but I can’t train with you again the rest of this week.”
He says it like a casual afterthought but I suddenly feel anything but casual. My breathing halts as I wait for him to explain. I count to three as I do.
“Tomorrow, I’m going for a bike ride with Kris.
Need to finally start clocking up the kilometres and she offered to come with.
Wednesday, I have extra swimming training.
Thursday is my mamma’s birthday so I’m taking her out for dinner.
And Friday I have to work late. We’re catering for a law firm’s summer party. ”
“Oh, right.” I start to breathe again. That all sounds perfectly normal. Perfectly reasonable. Apart from maybe… “Extra swimming training, huh? With Mr Speedos.”
Marcello blinks at me and then moves jerkily, collecting a couple more plates for the barbell.
“Er, he’ll probably be there,” he says without looking up.
“But I actually just want to do a double session. I was reading how I need to be a bit further ahead than I am with my cycling and swimming. The running and strength training is going so well, thanks to you…”
“You’re the one doing all the hard work.” I’m quick to remind him, crossing my arms.
“But you’re the one that gets me here, motivates me to do the work, which is not an easy job, trust me.”
Funny, it hasn’t felt like a job at all. Not once.
“Well, sounds like you’re going to be active enough. Still want to run on Saturday, or will you need a rest day?”
“I still want to run,” he replies as he screws the lock back on the end of the weights. “Meet in Hyde Park again?”
In the few seconds I take to respond to him, I have this very brief but very detailed fantasy of Marcello and I waking up in my flat, getting dressed into our running gear and heading to Hampstead Heath to do a run together, all the while we smile and laugh with each other, knowing we get to touch each other in the shower after.
“Sounds good,” I say and am grateful again for the busy gym’s noise because I swear when I swallow away that fantasy, it’s an audible little desperate gulp.