Page 28 of Gym Bros
He grabs a towel from his open gym bag and wipes some sweat from his upper lip. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“No,” he says gruffly.
He looks absolutely enormous from down here. I can’t imagine how small the dog feels.
Samuel digs his phone out of a side pocket of his bag and quickly sends payment for the hour. I can tell from the buzz in my pants that it’s landed in my account. I immediately want to send it back, but I’ll wait until he quits officially. Then I’ll send all the money he’s given me back. Not because I think he needs it, but because I obviously didn’t earn it.
I always feel amazing after yoga. Clearly I’ve made him feel like shit. Or it’s got nothing to do with me and everything to do with the dog. “So, I don’t know if this has anything to do with it, but it’s clear you have a body capable of a lot of strength, which means it’s capable of anything you want to train for.”
“My body isn’t the issue,” he grumbles.
“Then—”
I don’t get a chance to finish. With his bag on his shoulder, he shoves his big feet back into his shoes, and then he’s walking away. I close my mouth and watch him go, a weight settling in my chest for him. For myself. For no reason whatsoever except that it’s been there, waiting to settle in.
I don’t see him for the rest of the week. When Ryan asks how things are going with him on Friday—Samuel’s second no-show with no word, I tell him his guess is as good as mine.
“He quit?”
“Apparently.”
“Why? What happened?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ve got no business teaching yoga. Maybe I’m just another pretty face.”
I feel Ryan’s scowl, but I stare resolutely forward, jogging onthe treadmill at a steady 5.0. The more I’ve thought about it, the more I think I hurt Samuel’s feelings, which is just like me to make this about myself. There are literally a million reasons why a twenty-year old MMA fighter wouldn’t want to learn one-on-one yoga basics with someone like me, and telling him not to clench his thighs is probably very low on the list. Still…he might look tough, but he’s just a kid.
I get that I’m only a few years older than he is, but the differences in our life experiences put me at about eighty and him at twelve. At least, from what I’ve gathered.
“Or…maybe he’s got shit going on,” Ryan says.
“I’m sure that’s it,” I agree. Girl trouble. New dog issues. Maybe he went back to training at his usual gym. I hope he’s taking it slow. At any rate, I told myself if he didn’t show up today, I’d stop thinking about it, so here we are.
After we shower and change clothes, I leave with Ryan. Tonight’s the night we’re meeting up with his boyfriend Malcolm to have dinner with Ryan’s former roommate Deacon and whoever else got invited.
All I know is Deacon is cooking, and he makes the best food. I cook from time to time, but it’s mostly chicken, rice, and vegetables, and only when I feel the need to detox from all the takeout I order.
I don’t eat shit or anything—my diet is strict, but home-cooked comfort food like Deacon makes is always a reason to make an exception. If he were older, I’d probably have a wild crush on him, but he’s a little shy for my taste, lacking the confidence it requires to date someone who invariably turns heads. Also, I think his tastes run more toward men like Ryan or even Samuel. Men who can bench at least as much as he can.
“What all do you know about his new roommate?” I ask Ryan as we climb the stairs to the apartment.
“Just that they work at the same company, and he washes his own dishes.”
“Ry! Hey!”
We turn to see Malcolm bursting up the staircase. I step back as he nearly tackles Ryan with a bear hug. Ryan’s laugh rings out as Mal explains, “I saw you guys coming in. I tried to tell you to wait up, but I guess you didn’t hear me.”
“We didn’t,” Ryan says, his hands moving up and down Mal’s back.
These two hug like it’s their job. Once Mal finally notices me, I get a hug, too, but not from Ryan. I think he saves all his for his boyfriend. “How are you?” Mal asks me.
“I’m all right. You?”
“Hungry.”
Ryan takes his hand, and I follow them the rest of the way.
