Page 184 of Gym Bros
I let a small smile break through as I watch him walking into the kitchen, scrolling his phone. Exactly where he’s supposed to be. Fuck, I love him so much.
“What else do you want?” he asks.
“All of it,” I say. “One of everything.”
He laughs, and the sound of it echoing off my walls is the sweetest fucking sound I’ve ever heard.
I knowthe rules of American football, so I’m not lost in terms of watching the game. It’s not a particularly high scoring game, which makes it kind of boring, but I have a lot of food to pick through to keep me busy. However, Samuel’s on the other side of the couch, scarfing food with his eyes glued to the screen.
I never really put much thought into what people look like when they’re eating until I met Samuel. The first time he was here, ravenously eating a sandwich, was certainly something to behold, and the night he ate the oysters was the first time I ever thought about eating being sexy, but I thought watching him suck and slurp raw oysters was a special circumstance.
Turns out it wasn’t. Watching him shovel food into his mouth using chopsticks better than I ever could is equally compelling. He chews politely with his mouth closed and occasionally licks his lips. He gets a cute frown when he’s digging around for his next bite, and it’s a whole thing I find incredibly attractive.
I pour myself another glass of wine, and when I sit back with it, I manage to scoot a few inches closer to him, keeping it subtle, and not quite displacing Siva. Samuel gets up to reload his plate, and when he returns to the couch, he’s a few inches closer to me, too. There’s still about eighteen inches between us, and it feels like a fucking mile.
“They need to pull that quarterback,” he says.
“Yeah.”
It’s like the four hundredth interception or something.Icould do a better job.
Samuel says, “If he were a baseball pitcher, he would have been long gone by now.”
“Is there a reason they treat quarterbacks different in football?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I assume it’s easier to be a good pitcher than a great quarterback? That’s my best guess. I mean I get he’s got a lot going on out there—eleven people coming at him at once, but still. He’s getting paid millions not to embarrass himself, and yet—he just phones it in, and he’ll come back next week calling all the plays and cashing his check.”
“Hopefully he gets a good, strong talking to in the meantime.”
Samuel huffs. “He should probably stay offline for a few days.”
I half smile. “That too.”
“Are you gonna eat that spring roll?” he asks.
“You can have it.” I hold out my plate.
He slides closer to grab it. “Thanks.”
Another six inches between us is gone. Siva is the only thing separating us now. As much as I love her, I so badly want to push her—gently—to the floor and curl up against Samuel’s side. I’m not sure how “back together” we are, though. He’s my first boyfriendandmy first ex-boyfriend,which also makes this my first second chance, and I have no idea what to do with it.
Reminding myself I’m all of those things for him, too, and he’s probably just as confused about what the fuck we’re doing isn’t as comforting a thought as it should be. For all I know, he’s regretting this already.
I put down my plate, too much of a mess to eat any more, and pick up the cat. I set her on my lap, leaving the space between me and Samuel open. As I anticipated, after about thirty seconds of my aggressive petting, she squirms away and walks off toward the chaise beneath the window.
I brush some of her hair off the blanket covering my lap—Samuel never ended up taking any of it because the food got here really fast, and I was opening another bottle of wine and getting some personal business squared away in the bathroom just in case.
I’m starting to wonder if it was all for nothing. Any second now he could decide Beauty’s been home alone too long and take off as quick as Siva did, but I’m not ready to give up yet.
I place my hand on the cushion between us. He swallows a mouthful of food and sets his plate down. “I think I’m appropriately stuffed.” He leans back, one hand on his belly and another very close to mine.
“The duck was good.”
“It was, right? I’ve never had duck before, but I think I’m a fan.”
“You’ve never had it?” I ask.
“Nope.”
