Page 126 of Gym Bros
“Was that so difficult?” he asks with a smirk.
I don’t know whether to kill him or kiss him. “You make everything feel significantly harder than it needs to be.”
“Yeah?” he lifts a brow. “How hard?”
“Stop it,” I say.
He lets out a soft laugh. “So, do you want tostayexclusive? I do if that helps you think up an answer.”
Hedoes? How did I not see this coming? Did I miss something? Granted, this restaurant is kind of romantic, but our “love life” consists of dirty talk, lingerie, and cum. And eggs. Maybe it was the eggs?
It’s hard to feign an annoyed façade when he’s admitting something—however small—to me. But I do my best even though I feel like this might be one of the most important conversations I’ll ever have. “That’s fine,” I say. “I’m not opposed to it.”
“Are you opposed to calling it something?”
“Like what?”
“Boyfriends?”
My eyes widen at the foreign-sounding word. “You want to be my boyfriend?”
“I mean—I’d rather be that than some ‘man you’re seeing,’” he says with air quotes.
I guess that does tend to be what I call the guys I’ve slept with for any length of time in the past. I wasn’t aware I’d said it enough to where he’d be able to imitate my voice when I say it,though. Come to think of it—have I ever been with anyone I considered a boyfriend? They’ve all been so much older. So much less available. While it sounds like a juvenile label, what else would I call the guy I watch Avengers movies with while plotting how to get into his pants?
The guy who makes me laugh hysterically when he wrestles me to a mat and lets me double plank him? The dude whose hoodie I stole and wear while I lie around my house waiting for him to be done training at his gym. “Okay,” I say, realizing I haven’t missed a thing. We’re in a relationship, and he’s not denying it. “Fine.”
“You sure?”
“Are you sure youwanta boyfriend?” I counter.
“I wantyou, so, yeah.”
I wish this glass of wine were big enough to hide behind, but it’s impossible to play it completely cool when he’s making me feel like I’m special. Maybe it’s still all about looks for him, but for the moment, it feels like he’s looking a little deeper than that. Or maybe I just want him to. “All right,” I say.
He nods. “Then that makes it official.” He holds his hand out like he wants me to shake it. I do, warily.
He adds, “Now if you fuck someone else—especially the wine guy—you’llofficiallybe cheating on me.”
I shake my head, unable to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Why would I want someone else?”
He gives a long blink. “You know you said that out loud, right?”
Am I going to die tonight? Feels like maybe. “Yes, Samuel. Being boyfriends implies you’re the only one I’m interested in.”
He slides his phone from his side jacket pocket, glances at me, then down at it, and taps the screen a few times. I’m about to get impatient because wow—rude—but then my phone chimes. I pull it out and look at the screen.
Samuel Ray has shared his location with you.
I huff a panic laced breath and share my location with him, too. I guess it is official. “Is that all?” I ask. “Stop playing with me. I’m a mess.”
“Why are you a mess?”
“You’re really putting me through some shit over here, and all I agreed to was oysters.”
“You’ll get your oysters, angel.”
“And you’ll have some, too?”
