Page 34 of Jacked
His cheeks flame and he dips his head, yanking his hat off and anxiously tousling his hair.
“Just a little,” he mumbles.
I laugh again. He stopped home to change and put on cologne? Or has he been wearing it all day? My amusement melts away and a tight feeling wraps around my gut. Is there someone at work he’s trying to impress? Some pretty coworker who caught his eye? Is she into him? Has he asked her outyet? It takes exactly three seconds for me to go from smelling his cologne to imagining his picture-perfect wedding to some gorgeous woman who will happily cook all of his meals for him and finger his ass any time she sucks his dick.
I hate her already.
“You okay, dude?” he asks, his lips tugging down into an uncharacteristic frown of concern. “You look like you’re about to throw up or something.”
I choke out a laugh, not quite sure why my lungs don’t seem to want to work or why I have the inexplicable urge to hit something.
“I’m good.”
Slater doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t press either. He just stares at me for a few extra seconds and then squeezes my shoulder. His hand is warm and the touch is familiar and comforting.
“Should we start with cardio or did you have something else planned?” he asks.
“Cardio, yeah.” Okay, shaking it off and pulling it together now. Whateveritis. Still no fucking clue.
He drops his hand and we head over to the treadmills. Sometimes I shout encouragement while he gets in his warm-up, other times I go finish other shit I need to tackle until he’s done, but today I hop on the treadmill right next to him and crank up the speed.
We run in silence for the first mile, the mechanicalwhooshof the machines and the rhythmic thudding of our footsteps becoming a hypnotic beat. But the question of who he’s wearing the cologne for just won’t dislodge itself from my brain. I need to know.
Friends talk about shit like this, don’t they? How am I supposed to hype him up before a big date if I don’t know about it?
“Is it some babe at work?” I blurt. I meet Slater’s eyes through our reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors in front of us and I can see the confusion written all over his face. “The cologne,” I clarify. “You don’t usually wear any, so I figure you must be trying to catch someone’s attention. Am I right?” I put on my most encouraging smile and reach over to playfully slap his arm.
He misses a step and almost trips, catching himself on the handles just in time to prevent an embarrassing and painful fall.
“Oh… uh… no, I just thought I’d try something different.” He shrugs and increases his speed.
The confusing ball of rage in my chest dissipates and I bark out a relieved laugh.
“Oh, cool. I, uh… I like it.” That’s a normal thing to say, right?
His face flushes bright red again but I notice his smile widening as he mumbles, “Thanks.”
After cardio, I torture him with a box jump drill and then free weights. I pay close attention to his form while he uses the squat cage. Back straight, shoulders up, ass out. I wouldn’t want him to hurt himself.
“My broest of dudes.” Butch comes up behind me and slaps me on the back. “What are you both doing on Friday night?”
I help Slater get the weight back onto the rack and he looks over his shoulder at me, silently checking in with me. A warm feeling floods me. I’ve never had a friend I’ve felt like such a unit with like I do with Slater. Like his plans are my plans and vice versa, like we’re a package deal. It’s cool. Like, really fucking cool actually.
“Nothing, why?” I say.
“It’s ya boy’s birthday.” He cups his hands around his mouth and practically bullhorns the announcement to everyone in the gym. “Twenty-five! Finally old enough to rent a car and nolonger allowed to use the excuse that my frontal lobe isn’t fully developed yet when I make dumb-ass decisions.”
“Congratulations?” Slater says uncertainly.
“Thanks. Now, I know you’re both straight, but if you think you can stomach being in a gay club for one night, you should come out to help me celebrate, a.k.a. drink my weight in overpriced booze and dance off all the empty calories.” He raises his arms and does a little shimmy. “What do you say?”
Slater’s gaze flickers to mine again and nerves dance in my gut. A gay club? Like the place where all the dudes there will assume I’m interested in, well,dudes? Curiosity and something else I can’t quite read dances through Slater’s eyes then hardens into resolve.
“Yeah, count me in,” he says.
Wait… I thought we were a unit. What just happened?
“Uh, yeah, me too,” I rush to answer.
