10. Chapter 10
Beau
Highland Cows (cooz)
Translation: Furry cows from the Scottish Highlands, the ones with the fringes
Usage: You know you’re obsessed with them… don’t lie
Torin pauses just inside the gym doors, scanning the room like he’s walked into the wrong lecture hall.
Then there’s a stirring in my groin area as he takes off his jacket and I see what he’s wearing.
When we built our action plan, he told me he didn’t have any workout gear, so he’s got on some of my smaller stuff for now.
I prefer short shorts when I work out, so I have quickly gone from never seeing Torin’s legs to seeing the majority of them.
They’re long and toned—thicker than I thought they would be.
He also chose a sleeveless shirt, and I can see clear definition in his shoulders and arms.
It’s a good look for him. Really good.
Actually, he’s ripped.
He looks around like a lost animal and finds me on a treadmill. I’m still checking him out, so I’m sure he sees my eyes snap up from his sexy legs. He heads in my direction, eyeing various equipment like he’s unsure what he’s gotten himself into.
“Come on up,” I say, patting the arm of the treadmill next to me.
He stops and stares at the moving belt on mine. “I already walked here. Do I need to get on that?”
“Yes,” I laugh. “I want you to keep moving while I talk through some general guidelines of fitness.”
He sighs, grabs the side rails, and prods the belt with his toe like it might actually be quicksand that will swallow him whole.
I chuckle as he finally plants his feet on the machine and turns it on.
Once he finds his rhythm, he walks beside me while I explain the basics of strength training.
I look over a couple of times to see if I’ve lost him, but he nods and glances over at me while I talk.
He even asks clarifying questions. Such a good student.
After the treads, I lead him through an upper body warm-up and explain what we’re doing today. He lifts his arms for the circles but keeps flicking his eyes around the room—toward the squat racks, the mirrors on every wall, the guys lifting weights, some grunting their way through reps.
“No one here is judging you,” I tell him. His eyes snap back to me.
“I don’t know,” he says, color creeping into his cheeks, “some of these guys are really big, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I probably look daft waving my arms around like this.” So I was right. He’s self-conscious about being here.
“Yes, some of them are even as big as I am,” I say with a wink, earning me Torin’s patented judgment face, “but everyone here started somewhere, and I imagine you have a head start on most first-timers.” I glance pointedly at his legs.
“What? I’ve literally never been in a gym before.”
“No, but you have some serious strength. And now that I can see more of you”—I let my gaze travel openly down his arms and back up again—“you look pretty fit to me.”
He perks up a bit as I inspect him, so I go on. “As far as most gym-goers are concerned, anyone who’s here and working to take care of themselves is worthy of respect. It doesn’t matter where you are on your fitness journey, you’re putting in the effort.”
“I’m sure not everyone thinks that way,” he says.
“Not everyone,” I admit with a shrug. “There are judgmental people everywhere, but you don’t need to worry about that. Besides, I don’t think anyone would be able to tell you’re new to the gym.”
“Is this how you’re going to help me build my confidence? By telling me nice things?” His judgy face is still plastered on, but I detect a hint of satisfaction, too.
“No, I’m just telling you that you look good, and that even if you didn’t, you’d have my respect anyway, just for showing up. No one is forcing you to be here.”
“I mean… you kind of are,” he says. “It is in our action plan.”
“True,” I laugh. “Alright, pep talk done for now. Just tune everyone else out. You’re here with me, and I’ve got you.”
Then we get to work. I set up the weights for each exercise, show him how it’s done, adjust his grip and posture, then make him finish his sets. He’s a quick study, and he’s mean, which is hilarious.
“Apparently they didn’t teach you Yankee fucks about the Geneva Convention because you clearly don’t know that torture was banned in 1949.”
“That only applies to prisoners of war, sick and wounded soldiers, or civilians in occupied territories,” I say with a smile. “I’m well within my rights. Three more reps.”
“I hate you so much,” he tells me as he does another.
“You can keep on hating me while you push out two more, big guy.”
After plenty more swearing and insults, Torin joins me at the lighter weights for some arm work and a chat.
“How did you learn to do all this, anyway?” he asks between sets.
“I bought a personal training manual when I was fourteen and studied it cover to cover. Watched YouTube videos. Tried it all out. Talked to other guys at the gym. Basically just taught myself.” My watch beeps. “Next set, let’s go.”
He picks up the dumbbells with a groan and starts his curls while I count reps on my fingers so I can keep talking.
“So you just decided one day when you were fourteen that you wanted to be a bodybuilder?” he asks. “Out of the blue?”
“No,” I say and hesitate. I don’t love talking about this part, but we’re getting to know one another, so I keep going.
“I was bullied a lot when I was a kid, so I started working out because I figured if I was big enough, no one would mess with me, even if I was the guy that everyone thought was gay.”
“People thought you were gay?” he asks, seeming surprised, which is confusing. I tilt my head and watch his clueless expression until it clicks: he doesn’t know.
“Torin,” I say, “I am gay.”
One of the dumbbells slips out of his hand.
He yelps and jumps back right before it can crush his foot, causing him to drop the other one.
It hits the mat with a thud as he stumbles sideways into me.
I grab his shoulders to steady him, enjoying the feel of his toned body against mine.
Then I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
The look on his face is almost as comical as the little jumping routine he just performed.
I tilt my head again. “You really didn’t know I was gay?”
“No!” he says, eyes wide. “I thought you just dressed well!”
That breaks the dam. I laugh so hard I have to sit down.
“What?” he asks, incredulous. “Maybe it’s the accent or the muscles or the confidence or how Maeve fawns over you like she’s your girlfriend, but no. I had no idea.” His eyes sweep over me again, like he’s questioning everything about me now.
“Maeve knows I’m gay,” I say, catching my breath. “Besides, she’s nice to everyone.”
“She does seem pretty great,” he acknowledges.
An awkward silence follows, and I watch as Torin processes this new reality.
“Would you have been nicer to me if you’d known I was gay?” I ask.
He thinks for a second. “Probably not. But knowing you dealt with so much bullying might have made me stop and think about it more. I guess I looked at you and assumed you’d never had a hard day in your life.”
“No, I’ve had my fair share like everyone else,” I say, composing myself but still grinning.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” he asks, sounding defensive.
“I’m out and proud, but you avoided me until yesterday,” I say with a shrug, “and it’s never come up in our limited interactions.”
“Huh,” he says. He’s looking at me with curiosity now, eyes narrowed.
“Out with it,” I say, waving a hand to hurry him along. “I can tell something’s still bothering you. What is it?”
He hesitates before saying, “It just seems like you would’ve mentioned a boyfriend or something by now.”
My stomach knots up in an instant. “I’ve never brought up a boyfriend because I don’t have one,” I say with a sigh. “I’ve never had one.” Then I add, softer now, “I’ve never made it past a second date.”
He seems even more shocked now. “Seriously? Look at you! If you can’t get a man, what hope is there for the rest of us?”
“Torin, please look in a mirror,” I say, my eyes sweeping up and down his body again. “You’ve only mentioned one ex-boyfriend—no need to try to hide that kind of thing from me in the future, by the way—but you look like that.”
He blushes. “I’m too focused on my studies to bother with relationships right now,” he says. “Besides, my body isn’t half as good as yours.”
A twinge of irritation hits me in the chest. Does he really not see what I see? Did I do something to make him feel this way? Time to clear up a couple more things for him.
“Sit down, Torin. Let’s talk.” He drops onto the bench immediately, like he’s just been called into a meeting with a very intimidating professor. I make sure he’s looking at me when I go on.
“Torin, you are hot,” I say. He begins to clear his throat, but I hold up a hand.
“Don’t argue. I’m not flirting with you.
” Though I’d like to. “I’m telling you what you need to hear.
” His mouth closes. “Bulking up can definitely make a guy feel more confident, but I didn’t bring you to the gym because you need to have a better body.
You already look incredible. I brought you here because I wanted you to do something new and difficult, and this is something I know how to do. ”
“Oh,” he says with a blink.
“Seriously though, how did you get a body like that?” I ask, unable to stop myself when those long, bare legs are right there in front of me.
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “I grew up on a farm. Do enough manual labor and you’ll get strong without going to the gym.” He rolls one shoulder, thinking. “Though maybe I should’ve done what you did. Might have deterred some of the pricks at school.”
Despite our past, my blood boils with protectiveness. I keep my voice level as I ask, “You had a hard time with bullying, too?”
“It wasn’t too bad.” He shrugs again, picking up a towel and twisting it idly in his hands. “I was a bookworm who liked musicals, and I didn’t play sports. Easy target. When anyone did start shit, it was because they underestimated me, and it was usually muscular guys with more brawn than brains.”
He glances at my biceps. If I looked anything like the guys who used to give him trouble, he must’ve been on the defensive the moment we met.
“It still gets under my skin when someone thinks I can’t do something,” he says, bitterness lacing his accent. “I could’ve played sports. I just didn’t want to.”
Another piece falls into place. “So when I told you the boxes were heavy the first day we met…”
“Exactly,” he says. “It felt like you were just another jock telling me I couldn’t do something.”
“I admit I did underestimate you,” I say, “but that wasn’t the reason I said I’d do it myself. You were clearly dressed up for something, so I didn’t want you getting dirty on my account.” I pause, then add with a small shrug, “Also, I don’t like asking for help.”
“You didn’t ask,” Torin says. “I offered.”
“True,” I say, “but I’ve been handed a lot in my life, and I know it, so I actively fight against being perceived as the spoiled brat who’s too lazy to do things for himself.
” I sigh and shake my head. “I don’t know.
Maybe I fight against it a little too hard at times.
Our first meeting proves that. As does my midterm grade. ”
Torin squirms at the mention of our exams. Good. He should feel at least a little awkward about announcing my grade to the entire cohort. But I also want to move past it, and I want him to understand my perspective on this.
“I knew I wasn’t keeping up with discussions,” I say, “so I should’ve known that my writing would be lacking as well. At any point I could’ve asked you or Isla or Blair for some help, but I didn’t. That’s on me.”
“Well,” he says with a grimace, “I didn’t exactly make it easy for you to ask. I should’ve been a better colleague.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I say with a wink.
He blushes, looking contrite. And it’s so damn cute.
“But you’re helping me now,” I say and smile at him. He gives a small smile back.
His dumbbells are still on the floor, and the gym is getting busier, so I clap my hands on my knees and stand. “I think that’s enough for one day. Let’s pack it up.”
We rack the weights and wipe down the benches. Halfway through spraying disinfectant on the headrest, something occurs to me.
“Wait, you said you grew up on a farm?”
“Aye…” Torin says, and my excitement grows.
“Do you have any Highland cows?”