Page 21 of Beautifully Devoted

Summer mornings are our favorite time for working out and making videos. It’s quiet and still smells faintly of disinfectant rather than sweaty bodies. Bonus, the lack of people to heat up the place makes the temperature cooler—sometimes even cold—which makes my nipples perk up. For some reason videos get more views when my nipples are hard, and more views equals more money.

I’m still hoping to make the big bucks in the NFL, but if I don’t go that far, I’m hoping these videos will give me a solid nest egg. Either that, or help me land a job with a professional team as a trainer.

“What’d you have in mind for the video?” Cam asks as he sets up this little tripod thingy he got so he doesn’t have to be responsible for holding the phone steady.

“I was thinking of some exercises that would hit all the major muscle groups at the same time. Arms, legs and core.” I grab a Bosu ball with one hand and a medicine ball with the other, then set up the Bosu so the curved side of the half-moon shape is on the ground. Dropping to the floor, I place my hands on opposite sides of the Bosu, distributing my weight evenly so it doesn’t wobble underneath me, and start jamming out push-ups so my arms will look more cut in the video.

“Stretch first.” Cam shoots me a warning look from where he’s playing with the settings on the phone.

I kneel and point to the Bosu. “This is a warm-up.”

“Warm-ups come after stretching.”

I flip him off—I rarely cut corners and hate being called out when I do—and roll onto my back to go through the stretching routine coach makes us do. Cam joins me since he’ll lift with me after we shoot the video, and when we’re done, he takes his place behind the camera while I get in position by the equipment.

“Shirt off,” he reminds me since I’m supposed to be showing off my athletic shorts in this video.

I whip the shirt over my head and bend over to pick up the medicine ball, but before I can reach my full height Cam is standing in front of me, his large hands braced on my hips, and my spine goes rigid. It’s not the first time he’s had his hands on me, but it’s the first time in memory I haven’t been able to breathe through the contact, and it catches me so off guard I actually think I’d stumble if he weren’t holding me in place.

What the hell?

I know I’ve been a little off-kilter since learning he’s bi. And it didn’t help that I discovered I may have a little undefined curiosity of my own at the same time, but his touch has never left me breathless. Wincing in laughter or pain, sure. But breathless? Never.

“You can’t film like this, Kitcat.” A finger slips under the waistband of my shorts near my left hip, leaving a trail of sparks as it slides toward the right, and the nipples that had warmed during my stretches perk right back up as a shiver travels up my spine.

“Cold?” Cameron asks as he rights the waistband of my shorts so you can read the label on them.

The ten-pound ball in my hands feels like a hundred as I try to keep my arms steady. “Just a little.” Why am I whispering? And why did I say I’m cold when I’m feeling like I might overheat?

Cam takes the medicine ball out of my hands. “Do your pushups. That’ll get your temperature back up.”

I’m not sure it needs to go any higher, but I do as he says, pumping out a few pushups as he stands over me. At least that snaps me out of whatever strange daze I’d been on the verge of falling into.

I pop up and take the medicine ball as Cam goes back behind the camera, and on his signal, I start my monologue. As always, I give a brief explanation of what I’m going to demonstrate and why, so viewers know the purpose of the exercise. Then I step on the Bosu and find my balance point, using my core muscles to hold steady as I work my legs by squatting low, and my arms by holding the weighted ball in front of me.

Since I have several exercises I can do with this same equipment, and several pairs of shorts to showcase, we stop recording between each exercise so I can change. It’s when I’m pulling on my third pair of shorts that I notice Cam standing at the ready, hands on his hips, exactly the way he does on the field while he’s waiting for Coach to call in the play.

The familiar pose takes me on a trip down memory lane as I recall years and years of playing together, and how it always calms me to see him standing out there with me.

Cameron never aspired to play football. He started because of me, when I needed an outlet for the aggression I felt about my dad ditching us. He still plays because of me, and came to Colorado since that was my first choice.

I never asked him to do any of that, he just did. And I know I should tell him he doesn’t have to do everything I want to do, but I like having him by my side. His constant presence is so normal I’m not sure I know how to function without it. There’s a significant part of me that hopes I’ll never have to.

Cam clears his throat, a sign I’m taking too long, so I step into the new shorts and look up to find him standing behind the camera, waiting for me in his classic are we doing this stance that I can spot from a mile away, hip cocked just slightly in a way that makes his ass seem especially round.

Wait.

WTF?

Did I just ogle my best friend’s ass?

That can’t be right. I’m not even an ass guy—I prefer tits. I must’ve had something else on my mind and just happened to look over at Cam, who was sort of pushing his ass out, standing like that. I have been going down the prostate rabbit hole recently, so I must’ve subconsciously been thinking about that without paying attention to where my eyes were wandering.

No biggie. It was an accident. I can totally look at Cam’s ass without—

Nope. It’s enticingly round.

I force my wandering eyes to the floor and finish pulling up my shorts, muttering my next spiel aloud so he can call me out for being distracted by what I’m going to record instead of the fact his ass snagged my attention. Since I resume my spot in front of the Bosu without comment, it must work.

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