Chapter 10 #2
I huff. “I know you and your boyfriend were confused about your sexuality or whatever, but don’t project that onto me, okay?”
He barks out a laugh. “I wasn’t confused, man, I was in denial.”
Coming to the gym was supposed to help ease all of my pent-up irritation, not make me want to punch something even worse.
“Well, I’m not in denial either,” I grit out through clenched teeth.
“Relax, dude. I wasn’t saying you were.” He holds up his hands in surrender as he jogs.
I run back through the conversation in my head, and yeah, I guess he never actually said that he thought I was in denial. He only said he was. He did assume I was jealous over Callan though; I didn’t make that up.
“My eyes were wandering while I was running, that’s all,” I mutter, still defensive but with a good amount of the wind going out of my sails. “Fuck, sorry. I’m just in a shit mood lately.”
He gives me a sympathetic look, and then Callan appears right behind my treadmill. I guess I managed to stop watching him in the mirror for a few minutes after all.
CALLAN
“Making friends?” I tease. I only caught the very tail end of the conversation, but when I looked over a minute ago, it seemed a little heated.
It wouldn’t have surprised me to see Diego getting into it with Fender, but AJ doesn’t usually piss people off. I kind of wish I knew what the disagreement was about, but I’m not going to pry. Not right now, anyway. Maybe I’ll see if I can worm it out of AJ later.
“We’re fine,” Diego says with just a hint of bite in his tone.
Ouch. What did I do to piss him off? I glance over at AJ, but he just shrugs and keeps jogging.
“You feel like hitting something?” I smirk, catching Diego’s eye in the mirror. I can see the hesitation, the war between his bad mood and his curiosity.
“Why? What did you have in mind?” he asks, eyeing me skeptically.
“Come on.” I move between the two machines so I can put myself in front of him instead of having to look at him through the mirror, then I jerk my head towards the door to the boxing gym.
If he looked suspicious before, it’s worse now.
His expression hardens a little and he gives me an “I’m not falling for that” look.
I hold up my hands in surrender to show him that I’m not fucking with him.
I get where he might have that impression, but it’s not like I made him get a boner the last time I took him back there.
That was a perfectly professional massage, thank you very much.
If it made him desperate to shove his cock into my mouth, that’s on him, not me.
Not that I’m complaining.
He glances over his shoulder at where I just came from. “Aren’t you busy with a client?”
“He had a hot date tonight and he didn’t want his muscles to be too sore, so he ended his session early.”
The tension in his face eases a fraction and he lets out a little huff before pressing the button to stop the treadmill.
“Fine, but you’d better not be fucking with me.”
“Trust, man.” I clap him on the shoulder and steer him in the right direction, even though it would be impossible to get lost. I give AJ a quick nod of thanks for keeping him company before I elbow through the door and wave Diego in after me.
Fender already finished up for today after a couple of back-to-back classes, so the gym is dark when we step inside. I feel for the light switch and flip it on, and Diego makes a surprised sound.
“Oh, I didn’t realize this was here.”
“We literally walked through it to get to the massage room last time,” I point out with a chuckle. “There was a whole class going on at the time; guys grunting and hitting each other. None of that ringing a bell?”
“I was a little distracted,” he mutters.
He’s clearly already in a bad mood, so I probably shouldn’t fuck with him, but I can’t help myself.
“By your erection?” I ask sagely.
“By the pain, jackass.” He tries to growl, but I can hear the reluctant laughter in his voice.
“Suuure, of course.” I jump back when Diego takes a swing at me. “See, I knew you needed to hit something. Come on, I’ve got just the thing.”
I lead him around the boxing ring and over to the area where various punching bags are hanging from the ceiling.
I couldn’t tell you the difference between most of them—aside from the speed bag since that one is obvious—but I figure I don’t need Fender’s expertise for the two of us to spend half an hour taking swings at whichever bag strikes our fancy.
Diego seems fully on board, picking one out straight away and lining up for a swing. There’s plenty of power and follow through, and he lets out a grunt when his fist connects with a satisfying thump.
“Yeah, this will do.” He pulls back for another shot.
“Anything in particular have you in such a delightful mood?” I ask, squaring up with a bag a few feet away to give him some space.
I’d hate to think it has anything to do with last night, but I’d be an idiot to assume that it’s unrelated. Did the blowjob get in his head? Did it freak him out?
“I just wish I could rewind the fucking clock back to before this damn injury and feel like myself again,” he growls, nailing the bag with a couple of rapid jabs.
“Everything was perfect back then, and now every goddamn thing feels so fucked up. Crystal’s gone, my position with the team is on the line, every time I move some stupid part of my brain is convinced I’m going to get hurt again.
” He lists complaints between hard swings, his breathing getting heavier as sweat starts to dampen his hair.
“You miss her?” I do my best to ignore the sinking in my gut. What a dumbass thing to ask. Of course he misses her.
“Who?”
I sputter a laugh that throws my swing off, making me miss the bag with my right hook. “Crystal.”
“Oh.” His face screws up in concentration and he focuses on his swings rather than answering right away.
“Nah, not really. Every once in a while, a good memory pops into my head and I feel like maybe I might, but then it’s gone and I remember how much time we spent fighting and ignoring each other at the end there.
I don’t even blame her for leaving, it was just the way she did it… ”
He shakes his head and I can see a little bit of the fight going out of him as he starts to tire himself out.
“It was fucked up,” I agree.
“You ever been cheated on?”
I laugh again. “I’d have to be in a relationship for anyone to cheat on me.”
“You don’t really date?” He slows down to catch his breath and reaches for a towel to mop some of the sweat off of his face.
“Honestly?” I ask, and he nods. “I always seem to catch feelings for guys who are on the DL or only want to fuck guys and date women; that kind of thing. I guess I have shit taste in men.”
His eyebrows pull together and I realize how that sounded.
“I didn’t mean you,” I assure him. “Not that I—”
“It’s cool.” He cuts me off before I have to find a convincing way to lie that I haven’t caught any kind of feelings for him and sucking him off last night definitely wasn’t part of a pattern of behavior that I’m really going to get around to breaking one of these days.
“Okay, so your life and your future feel really fucking uncertain right now,” I say, scrambling to get things back on track so we don’t risk making direct eye contact with the elephant in the room.
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”
“That doesn’t take anything away from who you are though, Fergie.
” I can feel myself slipping into coach mode, and I think that’s exactly what he needs right now.
He takes a slower, more deliberate swing at the bag and nods for me to go on.
“Your girl, your team, those things don’t define you.
They’re part of you, but they’re not you. ”
“Who the hell am I, then?” The frustration in his voice almost makes me laugh.
“That’s for you to answer, dude. But off the top of my head, after knowing you for just a little while, I’d say you’re confident, determined, focused, and driven.
Your injury didn’t take any of that away.
If anything, it’s giving you a chance to prove to yourself and everyone else that you’re the kind of guy who gets the fuck back up when you get knocked down. ”
“Yeah,” he mutters, takes another swing, and then meets my eyes with a renewed determination.
“Yeah,” he says again, more firmly this time.
“Thanks, Coach, I needed that reminder. Just because I’m alone on the ice right now and it feels like there’s no way to win, doesn’t mean I call it quits before the buzzer.
That’s not me. I play until the last second. Always.”
“Damn right. And, Fergie, you’re not alone on the ice, alright?”
The scowl that’s been on his face since I saw him step through the door earlier finally twists into a grin and he nods again.
“Thanks, Coach,” he says a second time.
That word on his lips still makes my dick chub up, but it’s more than that this time. Seeing the clouds part and his focus realign feels like exactly what I’m here to do. I’m his coach as long as he needs me.