Page 84 of Forever We Fall

If they can’t get the weight, the spotter engages. They grab onto the lifter’s chest and help press them up.

“Great. Fucking great. One more. Here we go.” Arlo’s huffed breaths skitter over my neck.

I’d have a boner if there weren’t six plates and the bar on my shoulders.

The only thing that scares Arlo more than touching me, is the possibility of me getting hurt. So in the gym, he pushes aside his fear to keep me safe.

I haven’t failed a lift yet. I don’t want to put him in an awkward position. But fuck if I’m not tempted. Damn tempted.

The bar clinks against the frame as I rack the weight.

“That was great.” He moves around to the stacks of weights that line the wall. “Ready to go up?”

“Yeah, you first.” I take the plate from his hand and put it on my side while he loads his on the other.

He grabs the bar and shakes his legs out. The quad muscles wobble under his taut skin. I hammer my fists lightly into my own, welcoming the sting from tiny tears in my muscles. It distracts from the utter deliciousness of Arlo’s untouchable body.

I hope today is the day he needs my help moving the weight.

“Ready?” He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the bend of his arm.

“Yep.”

Ready whenever you are.

I let him shoulder the weight and get into position, and then get so close I’m nearly hugging him. “Four reps. Nothing to it.”

On his third rep, I feel a presence behind me, but don’t look. I’m completely focused on Arlo and his lifts and his ass, nearly brushing my thighs.

Nobody’s perfect. Especially not me.

“One more. Strong core and go,” I urge.

The veins in his neck bulge. His muscles strain, but he lifts it without getting stuck.

“Nice.”

It’s not me that’s said it. It’s the person standing behind me. The voice is deep and familiar.

Arlo racks the weight and we both turn to find Nate with his thick arms on full display in a cutoff T-shirt. They’re crossed casually over his barrel chest. Every inch of his skin is tanned, even the part of his face that hosted a beard last year. He’s clean-shaven and fully grown into his large body.

“You two have been hard at work over the summer, while I ate too much.” He slaps his belly that isn’t a belly at all. Shame stings my cheeks because that slap and the slight jiggle of his middle have my attention.

“Where’d you go?” I ask, just to be polite. Nothing more.

Yes, he looks good. Yes, we have a bit of history. No, I’m not looking to carry it over into this school year.

“Portugal. My grandparents own a small resort on the west side of Lagos. I work there every summer. My parents think I go for the girls in bikinis.” His gaze hoods and slides over the sweat-soaked shirt clinging to my chest. He chuckles. “I go for my Avó’s cooking.”

Arlo steps forward, almost imperceptibly in front of me. Between me and Nate. His stance is relaxed, but the message is clear.

Back the fuck off.

My heart flutters inside my rib cage. My chest puffs, and a smile is about to crack my face wide open.

Then Arlo speaks.

It’s a string of words that don’t compute. A foreign language. I don’t know what he’s saying. But it seems…calm and civil. More than that really. Almost animated and excited. And not in the “don’t fuck with my man” kind of way.

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