Page 9 of Confession
Kind of a masochist? He was referring to the leg press, right? Not to … other shit.
Jesus fuck, my head’s a mess. I increase the weight to make myself focus. It works for a while, but when I switch to free weights fora seated shoulder press, I’m all too aware of Quinn finishing up at the leg press then walking over to join me. He grabs weights off the rack and lies down on the bench next to mine.
As he starts a chest press set, muscle striates his chest and flexes in his shoulders and arms. There’s a slight catch in his right arm, but he pushes through it.
The thing is, I don’t have a problem with the idea of being attracted to a man. It just doesn’t makesense. I’m 32 years old for fuck’s sake and I have never once in my life questioned the fact that I’m straight.
As a sort of test, I let my eyes drift down Quinn’s notched abdomen to his groin, where the bulge of his cock shows against his sweatpants. I don’t have time to figure out my reaction before Quinn finishes his set and sits up—and fucking catches me.
I tear my gaze away and hike the dumbbells up to start my shoulder press. “Your shoulder looks good,” I say as though that’s what I was looking at.
“Hm,” is the only reply I get.
Shit.
I focus on my form in the mirror, grateful that my olive skin tone covers any red that might otherwise show in my face because, fucking hell, it’s hot in here. And Jesus fucking Christ, he watches me the whole time.
When I lower the weights to my thighs, Quinn’s gaze moves from me in the flesh to me in the mirror, where his eyes lock with mine.
He should say something, or I should, to dispel the tension.
Neither of us do.
What the fuck is happening?
I mean, I’ve always feltsomethingwith Quinn, but I’ve never questioned it being the fact that we get along, that I like him, that he’s a great bodyguard, even a friend, and I trust him. Why am I questioning that now? Why does it feels like more? And whatisthe more?
Is it sexual?
Even if it is, there’s the obvious issue that Quinn, whoisgay, has never shown any interest in me. The quiet intensity of his gaze as it stays locked with mine in the mirror is the same intensity that’s always there. That’s just how he is.
We’re similar in that regard, though my intensity burns, if not hotter, at least more freely. I’m not as reserved as Quinn, not as controlled. I’m flashier too, more vain, and it’s obvious even when we’re both shirtless. Quinn is well groomed, no question, but he has a very natural look. He’s all about function. No tattoos, just scars, trimmed body hair, and muscle. I, on the other hand, have treated my body like a canvas. My tattoos are a complex interweaving of geometric elements and fragments of images that play across my chest and shoulders, snaking down my arms and up my neck.
Trying to break the tension, I ask, “How long have you and Roman been sparring?”
Quinn doesn’t answer at first. It’s like it takes a second for him to extract himself from whatever he was thinking about.
“A week or so,” he replies.
“He does well with you.”
Quinn shrugs. “I just let him work shit out. It’s better than a punching bag.”
“He seemed in control.” I lace a hint of question into my tone.Is he usually?is what I want to know.
Another shrug. “He has his moments. It takes practice to get your foot off the gas with them.”
Quinn lies back down with the dumbbells and starts another set, cutting off the conversation.
Frustrated, I hike up my own dumbbells and start my next set. This is why I don’t know Quinn as deeply as I feel like I should. There’s like a sequence of gates with him. It’s hard to get through.
Getting stalled sets me back to where I usually am with him. I feel my body go back to normal. It’s so abrupt that I can’t mistake it.Thisis how I usually feel with him, how I used to feel. Normal. Not agitated. Not … wondering.
“So what are you planning?” Quinn asks when we’re both between sets again.
I don’t have to ask what he means. I can tell from his tone. Heavier. Businesslike. He’s referring to the DiMaggios’ attack on the warehouse.
“If you had to guess, what would you say?”
