Page 150 of Gym Bros
“Will do.”
We hang up, and I look down at Beauty as I pocket my phone. She looks up at me like she knows what she’s in for. An uphill run before I stick her in an overheated apartment.
“Hey,” I tell her. “You wantedme, remember?”
I won’t beable to say for sure until after the fight, but my weight cutting strategy has me in much better shape on weigh in day than the rest of my teammates. One of the women looks like she’s about to pass out, and two of the guys are shaking on their feet as they stand on the scale. I feel fine, and I make weight at one eighty-four. A pound to spare.
What the rest of them will do now is stuff themselves stupid and over hydrate, but I’m planning a filling chowder and raw oyster dinner, half a baguette, and as much water as it takes without waterlogging myself.
I warned Calyx I didn’t want to have sex tonight—I want to use any pent-up energy toward the fights. We’ve fucked enough the last two weeks to have me doubting I’ve stored up all thatmuch, but the oysters really do something to me, and my guy looks really good tonight.
He’s not wearing anything too fancy. White cashmere and jeans, all snug fitting despite his complaints that he’s too skinny. He’s not.
What he is, however, is quiet.
When we get to my place after a lackluster dinner conversation, he finally comes out with it. “I don’t think I can come tomorrow,” he says.
He’s standing at the kitchen island while I’m filling a glass of water from the fridge. I turn and give him a small smile. “I get it. I figured you wouldn’t.”
“I promise I only decided tonight,” he says.
I set my glass down on the island and move toward him. With my hands on his hips, I press my forehead to his and inhale his sweet scent. “It’s okay.”
“Are you sure? I’m rooting for you. I promise. I figure the odds of you dying or getting amnesia are probably pretty low, but I don’t think I can watch you like that.”
“Getting hit?”
“No, just like—the way you’ll have to be. Like—ruthless. Or whatever,” he murmurs.
“Hm.”
“I get this is what you want to do. I mean, I’m still trying to wrap my mind around a lot of it, but you’ve never done anything but support me, so I do—I support you.”
I’m frowning now, trying to piece together what he’s not saying and finding it harder than usual. “Is this you trying to fake it till you make it?”
He sighs heavily. “I don’t know, Samuel.”
“You wanna try talking it out?”
He shakes his head.
“It would mean a lot to me if you did,” I say.
“It’s like…” he takes another long, deep breath. “I want you to win and come out of it alive, but…I also…” He trails off.
“What?” I whisper.
“Hope you break your leg,” he says very, very quietly.
“Oh.” It’s a shock to hear, but I don’t pull away.
He hugs me tight. “I don’t mean that. I promise.”
“I know,” I say, smoothing my hand over his hair.
“But you know what I mean, though, right?”
“You want me to have a reason to quit,” I say, fighting the dejected feeling in my chest. “Yeah. I understand.”
