Page 18 of Gym Bros
I nod, reaching for the phone, but Evan pulls it back, tapping the screen a few more times, then turning it again to show me a photo spread for Gucci. “Seriously?” he asks, this time, letting me hold the phone and stare.
“Yeah.”
Jesus. Not that Calyx doesn’t absolutely look like a model in person but seeing him in high fashion, posing, looking ethereal and regal is something else. “Wait—go back to the TikTok.”
Evan laughs. “My roommate knows him, but I haven’t met him. I just follow him on social media. He seems like kind of a princess. What’s he like?”
“I couldn’t really tell,” I admit, but princess isnotthe first word that springs to mind.
“Is he not nice?”
“He’s polite,” I say.
“I’ve followed him for a while, but I’ve never been able to tell if he’s straight or not. Did you get a vibe?”
“You want me to try and set you up?” I ask.
Evan laughs. “Not my type, I’m just a fan. Who the fuck is that pretty? I mean—” he turns the phone around again to showme Calyx trying on a sheer cover-up over a swimsuit that isn’t much more than a speedo. “Come on. It’s ridiculous.”
“Yeah…” I concede. “He’s…very pretty.” I noticed at the gym—it’s not like it’s not blatantly obvious. But now a boner is threatening, and this one I can’t really explain in terms I’m familiar with. I think my dick is perilously confused, verging on desperate.
I find my gaze lingering on Evan’s bare thigh where his short jorts are riding up. I run my hand over my head, look away, and let out a breath.
“When was the last time you got laid?” he asks.
I startle and look over at him. He’s looking at my lap.
I pull a pillow over it to cover my erection, which, while not at full mast is still extremely obvious in these sweats.
“A while,” I admit.
“Like what? Are we talking weeks, months?”
I sigh. “More like a year.”
“Awhat? Saber, you can die from that,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “Trust me, I get off plenty.” My hand flexes on the pillow with the urge to get myself offright now.
“It’s not the same. You have to know that.”
“It’s more or less the same.”
He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You don’t like sex?”
“Idolike sex,” I assure him.
“So, what was the best sex you’ve ever had?”
I scowl at the TV first, then at him. “I don’t know.”
“No?”
“The girls I’ve had sex with always like to pretend they’re in a porn video or something. Like they care more about what they look like doing it than what they’re actually doing.”
“Who were these people?”
“Just—you know. Girls from high school or whatever.”
