Riley #3
“Listen to me,” he said, venom in his voice finally on full display.
It had only taken him five days to show his true face again.
I considered myself lucky that I hadn’t fallen for the quiet, brooding persona he showed everyone.
“What I do in the privacy of my room is none of your business, Brooks. I’m a grown ass man with a life that isn’t your concern.
And just because you used to know me and we fucked, like, five times, that doesn’t give you any right over my affairs.
Now, grow the fuck up and let’s get this thing done so we can go back to our separate lives until Monday. Okay?”
And that patronizing ‘okay’ at the end really rubbed me the wrong way.
I spun my arm around and he lost his grip on my wrist, but I caught his.
“It wasn’t five times. We fucked every Sunday for months.
Get your facts straight, asshole. And I’m not intruding on your shit, but excuse me if it’s not a hoot to hang out with my ex while he’s on Grindr.”
The moment my words were out, I regretted the fuck out of them. How I wished to inhale really deep and suck them all back in. Instead, I bit my lip, intentionally hurting myself just to distract my brain from the mountain of embarrassment.
He picked up on it. And you could trust the fucker to go down the trail with the most pain. “Ex? What the hell are you talking about, Brooks? We never dated.”
“I misspoke,” I muttered and released him, then stepped back. “Just do your set.”
He stared at me for a while longer, then added five more pounds of weights and dropped onto the bench. He did his set, then got up to let me do mine. And I would rather be damned than take off any of the weight. I was just as strong as he was.
Though it was a real struggle, I did three sets. The third one nearly killed me, but I huffed and puffed and got the bar up.
Cameron did his fourth and crossed his arms on his chest when I went for my final one. “You can take some of the weight off.”
“Oh, can I?” I mocked. “Thanks, Doctor Gym.”
“Fuck you.” He spun on his heels while scoffing the words out.
In the meantime, I took a deep breath and prepared to suffer. Just ten reps. That was all I had to do before I could go home without tucking my tail between my legs. Ten little reps. I could do this.
The moment I freed the bar and lowered it to my chest, I knew I fucked up.
My arms weren’t even burning. They were completely numb at this point.
The iron bar was touching my chest and I began to exhale, which was the worst thing I could have done.
Trying to push the bar off my chest, I saw only two ways forward.
I would either have to tilt the bar and drop the weight on one side.
Or, ideally, I would let the thing suffocate me and never suffer Cameron’s gloating for this disaster.
“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered somewhere far away. My vision was narrowing as I pushed all my cells to burn the last of their energy to no avail.
A shadow dropped over my face and Cameron towered from somewhere above my head. He spread his legs and his loose shorts revealed a few inches of his thighs from my perspective and he grabbed the bar with both hands, then lifted it off of me.
When Cameron tugged the bar back to the safety of the bench, I growled, “No,” and yanked it down. He could assist me if he insisted, but I wasn’t leaving with fewer reps.
He groaned and squeezed another curse, then obliged.
With one hand, he provided just enough extra strength that I could get the initial lift off my chest. My breathing was all wonky, but that was equally because his crotch was ten inches away from my face as it was because of the effort it took to lift the weight.
I did my ten reps, pretending that I hadn’t been looking at the smooth skin of his thighs whenever his shorts flapped loosely or the bulge that needed no introduction.
Half of me was certain he was doing this on purpose, just to feel superior and wanted.
Why else would he be practically squatting over my face?
And why else would he want Grindr to notify him while he wasn’t near his phone to respond? It was just his vanity.
And yet, I stared.
With my throat constricting and my stomach hollowing, I stared. I looked at him until I finished the set and felt something stir deep in me, descending to my groin and shooting up my spine at once.
When I was done, I jumped up to my feet and spent only one lingering moment looking into his eyes. My breathing sped up and I wondered if I owed him a thanks for help. In the end, I didn’t have enough time to decide. Cameron bent down and grabbed his water bottle, then proceeded to leave the room.
It was better that way, I decided. Thanking him would just make this dynamic extra weird. Besides, what else was the point of having him here?
I found my bottled water and drained it, then headed to the locker room.
By now, Cameron was already showering, so I was safe to undress and choose the furthest shower from him.
But, as I did just that, and as water soaked me from above, I needed to squeeze my eyes shut and search for ways to carve the images of his muscular thighs out of my memory.