Page 191 of Gym Bros
I grin. “Won’t feel this good, though.”
“No, but it’ll be—what’s that word you always use? Fun?”
“Yes, baby. Fun. We’re gonna have so much fun. How’re you doing? Was this the Samuel-sized hole you were mentioning?” I give him another slick thrust. “All full?”
His laughter spills out of him, forcingmeout of him, too. I flop onto my side and sling my arm around his waist. I kiss his neck. “You need to be a lot more careful with your words around me. I’m basically a child.”
He turns quickly toward me, locks a leg around my hip and kisses me hard. When he pulls away, breathless, he gives me that precious smile again. “Sorry,” he says. “You’re still so fucking cute.”
I tickle him until we’re both hard again, and then…well…I guess I can call this whole thing official.
For all the shit we’ve got left to figure out, the only thing that really matters is we make each other happy. I found the person least likely to be mine, and I made him belong to me.
Being underestimated at every turn only makes the victories that much sweeter. And I swear I’ll spend as much time as he gives me doing everything I can to make all his days as sweet and beautiful as he makes mine.
EPILOGUE
CALYX
four years later
“Yes! Hold it! Right there. You two look amazing.”
In order to make a heart in scorpion with Samuel, I have to be in a handstand while he’s in a shoulder stand. Priya is talking so much, it’s nearly impossible to focus. I want to laugh, I want to cry, I want to shout a string of curses because balancing on sand is challenging as fuck.
These photos better be amazing.
Our partner yoga game is nothing short of epic. I’ve managed to monetize it—obviously. Our collabs and sponsorships are paying for this vacation—the wedding in its entirety.
“Got it. I got it.”
Engaging my abs, I lower myself gently out of the extremely difficult pose, my knees landing on the beach. When I look up, Samuel’s done the same, and he’s waving Priya over to check the pictures she took. I grin proudly. He gets that from me—the desire to get the perfect shot.
It’s his livelihood now, too.
We’ve become one of those disgusting couples who leveragesocial media to keep us afloat financially. Well, afloat might be putting it mildly. Who knew a UFC fighter in a relationship with a gender ambiguous model half his size would be a huge engagement magnet.
I mean, technically, I did. I knew.
And no, I’m not upset—not one bit—that Samuel chose to retire early. Two years and a title as a professional fighter meant he’d reached the pinnacle of his fighting career, and it wasn’t hard to convince him that defending his title was a waste of time and energy because even he knew he’d lose it eventually and that’s no way to go out.
Always leave them wanting more isn’t just a saying—it’s a lifestyle. And, lucky me—no cauliflower ears. Just one or two lumps that I can overlook now that he’s let his hair grow out enough to cover the tops.
He shoves it out of his eyes to examine the photos. “Yes,” he says in that victorious way he does when he’s incredibly impressed with himself. “You nailed it angel.”
“How do you look?” I ask.
“Perfect. Obviously.”
“What’s next?” Pri asks.
“I take him back to the room and get him washed up,” Sam says as he hands her phone back to her.
“Mm…can I come take pictures of that?”
I glare up at her. “Excuse you. Don’t you have your own bungalow?”
“Just offering,” she says. “I mean—if it’s not on Instagram, did it really happen?”
