Page 3 of Just Watch Me

I loved programming, but I wanted to focus on conceptualizing the games and making them happen. Video games had always been an important outlet for me. While hiding behind my computer or gaming keyboard, I could be myself and make friends. Those two things had never worked together for me in the real world. I could travel and try things I would never be brave enough to do in person. I could let go.

Since high school, I’d known I wanted to work in the gaming industry, and the aptitude for computer programming I’d shown in my high school computer class had made it clear I could pursue it as a career. But every day, I wrote code for other people’s ideas. Sure, I could interject my own improvements and flavor here and there, but at the end of the day, I executed other people’s concepts. I wanted to be more involved in creating games that could help other shy, sheltered, and awkward kids escape from real life for a bit.

Who am I kidding?I would never have the nerve to make the switch. I was better off sticking with what IknewI was good at, nothopedI was good at. The prospect of never having the guts to go after that change had me crawling into myself. I was ashamed, but at least I would be safe. I would stick with what I could handle.

CHAPTER3

I focused on the meditative repetition of my feet pounding against the treadmill in my apartment building’s small gym to sweat off the day’s stress. Technically, three stressful days since spying on my neighbor. He’d leveled up from a hottie I’d enjoyed catching glimpses of to an ever-present thrum under my skin.

I still couldn’t believe I’d pulled out my dick in front of a window and jerked off where my neighbor could see. If I ran another ten miles, it would be dark by the time I left the gym, and I wouldn’t have to face the decision of whether to open my blinds while I cooked dinner. If only I had the stamina for another ten miles.

His toned body, the way he’d fucked that guy hard, memories played in a constant loop on the backs of my eyelids. If only I had an audio track to go with it. Though, if I knew what he sounded like, I would probably have a permanent semi.

A pop song blared in my ears as I lifted my shirt to wipe the sweat dripping down my face. I dropped my shirt, and my steps faltered as I found my sexy neighbor staring at me. In the same room. Together.

His attention lingered on my stomach for several seconds as one side of his mouth quirked before his gaze traveled up my under-muscled body to my face. Maybe he didn’t mind the beanpole physique because he sort of looked like he wanted to squirt chocolate on my chest and lick it off. Or maybe I was projecting one of the many dreams I’d had since Friday.

His smirk deepened, then he nodded a greeting as he walked over to the treadmill next to mine.

Have I died and gone to Heaven? Or Hell?Because the thought of me acting like a coordinated runner next to the most gorgeous guy I’d ever shared air with was laughable. I looked like a mousy giraffe on my best day. Long, lean, plain brown hair, nothing remarkable about me. I held back a groan as I got a whiff of his woodsy cologne. A scentscape was a completely unnecessary accompaniment to my already out-of-control fantasies about him.He smells so damn good though.

If the gigantic treadmill screen didn’t make it obvious that I had a mile to go, I would’ve run right out of there and skipped my arm-day routine. I’d been known to flee at the first sign of confrontation. My exes blamed that as one of the many reasons I made a poor partner. I was too timid, too predictable, too boring, too apathetic. No passion, no fire.

In the three weeks since he’d moved into the building, we’d never crossed paths in the gym. I’d unintentionally learned the highlights of his routine. He worked out five mornings a week, always heading out as I fixed breakfast. I had assumed someone with his body would belong to a real gym, not use a mediocre apartment building weight room.

If I had absorbed that information about him, it wasn’t ridiculous to think he’d done the same.If that’s the case, then did he come to the gym on purpose because he knows I work out after work three days a week?

My feet itched to race back to my apartment and keep the blinds closed forever—bad enough that for half a second, I considered my mom’s repeated invitation to move back home. I watched the seconds tick by on the treadmill screen and did my best to ignore the steady clip of his jog next to me.Could I be the kind of person who sat in the awkwardness?We both knew I’d seen him, I’dwatched, and he wasn’t steering clear of me.Why should I hide?I couldn’t find the strength to tell my parents to ease up. I couldn’t tell Chad he was a terrible manager. I couldn’t even tell my ex-boyfriend he’d hurt my feelings when he’d said I was more malleable than Play-Doh.But what if Icanfinish my run, do a few arm exercises, and open my blinds while I cook dinner?My neighbor didn’t know anything about me, so I could be whoever I wanted around him. I wanted to be a guy who didn’t flee.Baby steps.

By the time my run program shifted to a cooldown walk, I had a headache and eyestrain from trying to watch him out of the corner of my eye. The man ran like he fucked. With power, purpose, grace, and authority.

Get your shit together.

The chime announcing the conclusion of my run program echoed loudly in the otherwise quiet workout room. I guzzled half my water bottle then walked over to the free weights on shaky legs. I bargained with myself to stay through three different exercises with three reps each. It wasn’t my full arm-day routine, but it was enough to feel like I wasn’t running like a coward.

Once I reached the weights, I realized they were between a mirror and the treadmills.Great. Now he can watch me make a fool of myself while I try not to look at him.I risked a glance, and my attention zeroed in on his dick bouncing in his basketball shorts each time his foot hit the belt.

With my attention glued on his bouncing cock, I reached for the nearest dumbbells. I must’ve used too much force, or they were too light because I stumbled backward. My traitorous eyes sought him out in the mirror. I ignored his smirk while my burning cheeks threatened to melt off like that Nazi inIndiana Jones.

Somehow, I managed my arm curl sets without further embarrassment then swapped to do some sets for my triceps.Look at me acting like I know what I’m doing.Not that I wascompletelya stereotypical inept geek in the gym, but my build didn’t indicate I knew a leg press from a bench press.

My neighbor? He was obviously intimately acquainted with a weight room. His white T-shirt pulled tightly over his defined biceps and pecs, hiding part of his ink. Fir trees and a lake covered his bicep, but his shirt sleeve cut off the treetops. I wanted to see the shoulder part.Is it a sunset? A constellation of stars? A moon? Something else entirely?Our apartments were close but not close enough for me to have seen the detail.

I pulled my attention from himagainand replaced the weights before I walked over to the bench. After a few bench presses, I could comfortably flee to the safety of my dark apartment.

“Want a spot?”

My eyes fell closed, and I barely managed to stifle a groan at his deep voice. It was as sexy as the rest of him and after discovering what he sounded like, there would be no escaping my fantasies. Three out of five senses wasn’t bad, though the need to touch and taste him grew with each moment we were in the room together.

“Uh, spot?” My voice squeaked.As if I needed to embarrass myself any further.

He dragged a towel he’d brought with him over his face. When he raised his arm, I noticed he’d sweat through his shirt, and I wanted to lick it.My ex used to give me a hard time for being vanilla, and now I want to lick sweat from a stranger’s body?What the hell is wrong with me?I was acting like I’d never had sex before. To be fair, I’d never hadgreatsex before, but still. It was no excuse for my brain to act like it was on spring break in Cabo with a Costco-sized box of Trojans burning a hole in my suitcase.

He was smiling when he pulled the towel from his face. “You were looking at the bench. I can spot you for safety.”

I wasn’t bench-pressing his body weight or anything, but it was enough that I should have a spotter. Somehow his mention of safety was the sexiest thing about him so far.What does that say about me? Nothing great.

I swallowed and nodded until I could find my voice. “Sure. Yeah. Thanks.” Flustered, I momentarily forgot how much I usually benched. With shaking hands, I stacked weights on the bar.

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