Page 30 of The Trust
My phone buzzes with another notification and I silently curse. Take a breath. Then step out into the light with my shoulders straight and my head up.
The familiar clink of metal on metal accompanied by the occasional grunt follows each of my steps as I make my way across the filled floor, and I sweat just a little bit.
Fuck, there’s more people here than normal.
But when I lock eyes with one of the patrons, some of the weight lifts from my shoulders. I even offer a little finger wave to Poe as I walk, his headphones securely over his ears and a soft grin aimed my way.
I think he recognizes me. Knows who I am.
Which makes it even cooler that he holds space for me without going crazy like a lot of others do.Even if he goes home and tells everyone he worked out with the drummer from As Above.
Shit, Poe seems cool as fuck, and I’d go home with him just to prove him right.
Spotting the backwards hat of my man at the reception desk, I resist the urge to jump into his arms with a sloppy kiss. Instead, he glances up as if he can sense me nearby and I shoot a wink in his direction.
There’s a soft pink that takes over his cheeks, my second favorite color, and a grin attempts to tug at the corner of his lips.
“Hey, aren’t you thatgaydrummer?”
My steps falter.
“Excuse me?”
“It is you, isn’t it?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand as I turn to face the gym bro and drag in a sigh.
I know I shouldn’t judge considering the love of my life literally owns and runs this place, but some people justfitthe stereotype.
Y’know the ones with shirts two sizes too small, veins practically outside of their skin, and a permanent redness that only accentuate the forever frown on their nearly popping faces. The roid-fueled and overly jacked asshole that probably bulliedevery person that was just a little bit different than them since they could speak.
“Just go back to your reps, man,” I say dismissively and turn back around to leave.
Poe catches my attention as I hit the door, his eyes wide in worry, and I offer a reassuring smile.
He’s safe. Jordan won’t let anything happen to him here.
Jordan
“I know that washim.”
Craig sayshimas if it’s a curse off his lips and my fists flex.
Is this motherfucker really about to do this?
My teeth grind as he spins around, looking at different patrons as if he’ll find familiarity somewhere inside my gym.
Problem with that?
Most of the people that come here knowofMac. They’ve seen him around. He does this shit where he sneaks through, past everyone, as if he’s not fucking famous. I think it’s just to see me for that last split second before he darts off to his next thing, but I also never had the heart to ask him not to.
Because while I asked Lemon to keep his trap shut, I also like seeing Mac before he leaves just as much as he likes running through here.
He belongs here.
And everyone here knows not to mess with Mac, that he’s close to me.
“I can’t believe it.”
