Chapter 6
TYLER
Wednesday morning at the gym, I fly through my benchpress sets with unusual ease. I even woke up full of energy, ready to take on the day. Not that I’m generally a lazy bum, but there are days when I really have to drag myself out of bed.
“Jesus, did you eat a barrel of spinach for breakfast?” Blake comments as I rack up the bar without his help, probably making him feel useless as my spotter.
I grin at him upside down before heaving myself up. “There was some in my smoothie.”
“Uh-huh. By the way,” Blake lifts his chin, as if trying to point at something behind me, “Your number one fan is here. Again.”
Number one fan? Who—Ah.
A glance over my shoulder answers my question.
Seth is marching towards us with a huge, mischievous smile on his face, hips swaying.
I chuckle at seeing his attire: skin tight leggings with a colorful space pattern, and a ragged-looking crop-top that couldn’t be more flimsy if he tried.
In a nutshell, it’s nothing unusual, the outfit rarely changes. Only the colors do.
Seth stops in front of me and I bite back a smile. He’s such a shortstack that even with me sitting we’re almost on the same level, but his energy and attitude could power a small house.
Seth twirls a curly strand of hair. “Hey, big guy. How’s it going?”
Next to me, Blake snorts. Seth shoots him a look but otherwise ignores him.
“I’m good. You?”
Seth answers with a dangerous grin. “Oh, I’m good now.” I watch his gaze run over my biceps before he licks his lips. God, he’s shameless. It’s hilarious. “What do you say I spot you for a change?”
Blake makes an offended sound.
“I appreciate the offer,” I say, as calmly as possible. Inside, I’m dying. From laughter. “But I’m afraid the bar weighs more than you.”
“Oh, in that case,” Seth says quickly, as if he’s been waiting for this, “how about you benchpress me?”
I wipe a hand over my face, this close to losing it. I might be enjoying this whole interaction more than is healthy.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake…” I hear Blake grumble before he grabs his water bottle and makes a beeline for the refill station. Traitor. I saw his bottle, it was mostly full.
“Tempting,” I tell Seth, “but it wouldn’t make much sense for me to drop the weight, you know?”
“Well…” Seth steps closer, close enough for me to smell whatever fruity stuff he sprayed on himself before he came here. He reaches towards the plates on the bar and runs a finger over the first one. “You could always just use one hand.”
I can’t do it. I burst out laughing, my shoulders shaking with the force of it. Seth grins, like he’s been waiting for me to crack the whole time.
“Jesus,” I breathe, wiping away a stray tear. “It’d still be too light.”
“Hm, shame.” He twirls his hair again. “So, benchpress is out. How about something else? Hip thrusts, maybe?” He waggles his brows.
I’m officially speechless. I’ve never met someone so blatant, let alone a guy. I honestly don’t know how to handle this kind of flirting.
Thankfully, Blake comes to my rescue. “Hey. Desperation’s not cute. Why don’t you go do a downward facing dog, or something? Might get some dick that way.”
I snap my gaze to Blake. “Dude.” That was unnecessarily mean. Seth was just flirting, as usual. Yeah, he can be a bit pushy, but he’s harmless.
Seth gives him a hard glare. It looks unnatural on his soft, open face. “No one’s talking to you, Mr. Pickleman. Mind your own business.” His expression lightens when he looks at me. “Shame. Guess I’ll see you around.” He winks and walks away, hips swaying again.
I shake my head with a smile which disappears when I turn to Blake who looks seconds away from committing a murder.
“What was that, man? I didn’t peg you for a homophobe.”
“I’m not a homophobe!” he objects. “He’s just so fucking shameless, and makes people uncomfortable. If it was a straight guy coming that hard onto a woman, everyone would be losing their shit.”
“Okay, you have a point,” I concede. “But I wasn’t uncomfortable. I find him amusing, if anything.”
“Good for you.”
Well, that didn’t sound bitter at all…
“Are you saying he came onto you?”
Blake grits his teeth. “No.”
“So what’s the problem? Are you trying to protect our virtues? And why did he call you Mr. Pickleman?”
That seems to be the last straw. Blake turns bright red, his face furious when he looks at me. “He laughed at me!”
“What do you mean, laughed at you?”
“He—” Giving our surroundings an anxious glance, Blake leans in. “He laughed at my dick.”
“Come again?”
“We were in the changing rooms, and I just walked out of the shower. He was sitting there, doing some shit on his phone, and then he looked up. At me, then at my dick, and then he… he fucking snorted.”
Ouch. That’s…mildly hilarious. I have to try very hard to keep an impassive face.
“Yikes,” is the best I manage.
“It’s not fair!” Blake insists. “I’d just had a cold shower!”
“Uh-huh.” Okay, deep breaths. “Look, man, I get why that pissed you off. But what does it matter? Has Jen ever complained?”
“I mean…no? But it’s the principle!”
“Dude, let it go,” I tell him. “I’ve seen yours, it’s a perfectly normal size. Seth is obviously…” I wave a hand in a vague direction, “a size queen. His standards are different.”
I throw my towel over my shoulder and give the bench a courtesy wipe with the sanitizer while Blake unloads a plate from each side of the bar. We swap places, me as a spotter while he settles down on the bench.
“Easy for you to say,” he says as he grabs the bar. “You have a weapon of mass destruction in your pants. You could kill someone by slapping them across the face with it.”
I guffaw. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not in the habit of slapping people with it. Ready?” I check. “Or do you want to keep discussing my dick?”
He grumbles something but obediently lifts the bar.
He does four reps, arms shaking, pausing before the last rep.
“Come on, just one more.” I grin at him, knowing it will only piss him off.
He wheezes something that might be a curse, arms trembling, then finally gets the rep up. I help him rack the bar, slapping his shoulder when he sits up.
“Well done! Now just two more sets.” I grin again.
He gives me a look. Oh man, if those could kill…
“What got you in such a good mood?”
“I’m always in a good mood."
“Yeah, but today you’re, like, full-on beaming. Like you fed a stray puppy this morning and now you’re its dad. Or you got laid.” He takes a sip of water. “But you always get laid, it’s like breathing for you, so that’s probably not it.”
I roll my eyes, but the smile stays on my face. Hard not to smile, honestly. The apartment finally feels lively and full again. Which is a weird thing to say, given that Jamie is the most quiet roommate ever, tiptoeing around.
“I guess I’m just happy I’m not alone in the apartment anymore.”
Blake shakes his head. “You’re weird, man. I don’t know anyone else who prefers living with a stranger instead of on his own.”
“Technically, Jamie’s not a stranger.”
“Yeah, but sharing your living space with someone who’s not your family or friend is always a little uncomfortable in the beginning.”
“You know I’m a social creature. And Jamie is easy to be around.”
“Whatever you say.”
While Blake catches his breath, my thoughts stray towards Jamie. True, we aren’t that close. Or we weren’t until recently. But it never felt like a stranger was moving in.
Jamie has this…softness around him, this warmth, drawing you in.
And seeing him hold Fiona yesterday, cradling her like she was something precious and fragile, only solidified my opinion of him.
It also solidified my previous observation; he really does look like a bunny.
He’s gentle but curious, easily startled but quick to warm up.
He’s also deceptively timid, and full of surprises.
Like how little stuff he actually has. Four boxes and a massage table?
I know he lived in a tiny studio, but geez, I had more stuff when I lived at the dorms!
Maybe he’s had to move often and it’s just easier to live a minimalistic life?
If that’s the case, it’s kind of sad, because Jamie comes across as someone who craves stability and a peaceful home.
And nothing against minimalists, I think it’s great that there are people who don’t wanna clutter their homes with unnecessary crap, but I don’t think that’s Jamie’s case.
Minimalists probably wouldn’t bother buying physical copies of books if they could just read ebooks.
Which brings me to another surprising revelation: Jamie’s book collection.
I knew he wasn’t sheltered—he had a boyfriend, after all—but he seems so innocent.
I blame it on the whole bunny vibe he has going.
So finding out he’s into the type of books my sister reads took me by surprise.
And then I read the synopsis of one of them and…
Wow. Jamie might seem innocent, but his taste in books very much isn’t.
I know that someone’s reading taste doesn’t necessarily reflect their real desires, (for my sanity’s sake, I really hope Lia’s taste in books doesn’t), but it was still quite enlightening.
I kinda wonder what other stuff Jamie is into, and how much his taste in books clashes with his demeanor.
I definitely didn’t peg him as someone who’s into the master/slave dynamic, or whatever that synopsis was about.
That being said, I’m glad he trusted me enough to show me the books.
Or didn’t refuse to show me when I asked.
There was a very vivid blush on his cheeks, and he stuttered in a cute way when I asked him questions, but he let me in.
I got the feeling he doesn’t share that particular hobby with many people.
It made me feel flattered and…kind of special.
“Bro,” Blake says. I blink, and see that he’s on his back on the bench again, hands gripping the bar, waiting for me. “You’re spacing out. Want me to die?”
“Shit, sorry.” I force myself to focus, encouraging Blake through the second set, then the third. He survives, if barely, huffing and puffing through the whole ordeal.
After, we go through our cool down routine, hit the showers, then go our respective ways.
It’s not until I’m back home, settling down at my desk and equipped with a cup of coffee before I start work, that something hits me: why on earth do I wanna know what kind of sex stuff my roommate is into?