Page 21 of Jacked
“I have another client coming in just a few minutes, I just wanted to remind you not to skimp on cardio.”
It’s not an acknowledgment of what happened, but I think it’s AJ’s way of trying to let me know that everything is normal and cool between us. My shoulders sag with relief, and I grin.
“You got it, Coach,” I tease. “I’ll catch you at home later?”
His lips twitch with a more restrained smile as he nods. “Yeah. Don’t do me any favors and try to cook dinner though.”
I snort. “Alright. You can show me how to cook those lettuce and shrimp things when you get home.”
“Deal.” He hesitates for just a second, then gives me an encouraging slap on the ass and jerks his chin towards the treadmills. “Now, get to work.”
AJ
Shit felt normal enough between us at Sweat, but that doesn’t stop nerves from creeping back up on my way home. If Slater wants to have some kind of heart-to-heart about what happened last night, I’m going to have to nope the fuck out of that. But what if he gives me that puppy dog look of his? Dammit, this is why I’m no good at relationships. Why do people always want to talk about shit?
Not that I’m in a relationship with Slater, obviously. Just… relationshipsin the broadest sense of the word.
I drag my feet on my way up the stairs and take my sweet-ass time sticking the key into the lock and pushing the door open. I’m surprised to find the entryway clear of all of his junk for a change. I toe my shoes off and nudge them up against the wall. I find Slater in the living room, splayed out on the couch with his hand down his pants and ESPN playing loudly from the TV.
“Dude.” I raise my eyebrows, anxious heat spiking through me even though it’s obvious he’s not jerking off or anything, just chilling with his hand down his shorts. I get it, it’s not like I haven’t done it too, it’s just a little more of a reminder of what he looked like last night with his hand around his hard cock than I can take right now.
He looks up from the TV, a big smile spreading instantly over his face when he notices me. Shit, I don’t think anyone’s ever been so blatantly happy about me justexistingbefore.
“Ajax.” He casually pulls his hand out of his shorts, tucking his arm behind his head instead. The position makes his bicep bulge and draws attention to the thick tuft of blond hair under his arm.
I’ve never noticed a guy’s armpit hair before, but for some reason, my attention is drawn there. Is it soft or coarse? Is he ticklish? The line of thought makes the knots in my gut tighten and I look away.
“Butch is an idiot,” I say with a laugh in response to the nickname.
“I like him.”
“Yeah, I do too. He’s still an idiot though.”
He laughs and swings his legs off the couch, sitting up and then getting to his feet. He stretches his arms over his head, and his t-shirt rides up to show off the lean lines of his abs. I swallow and turn towards the kitchen. His footsteps are right behind me in a matter of seconds, and I’m still braced for him to try to talk about what happened.
“Alright, shrimp.” He pulls open the refrigerator. “What else do we need?”
A little bit of relief whooshes through me. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he’s happy to just let last night be what it was and not have some big, awkward discussion about it. Bless this dopey golden retriever of a man.
“Well, washing your hands would be a start. I don’t exactly want your pubes in our dinner.” I flip on the faucet then scoot past him to start grabbing the rest of the ingredients from the refrigerator.
He chuckles unapologetically and happily washes his hands.
“Hey, what’s your plan for tomorrow? I was thinking we could hit the batting cages,” he says, drying his hands and then standing by the island to wait for my instructions.
“Hell yeah, that sounds like a blast.” The last of my nerves melt away. I don’t know what I was so worried about. Slater is chill as fuck—that’s why I like him. That’s probably why I trusted him like I did last night. He’s not going to try to make this into something it’s not. He’s as happy as I am to just let it be. And if it happens again, that doesn’t have to be a big deal either.
The relief that rushes through me is fucking euphoric. I throw an arm around Slater and pull him into a headlock. He struggles playfully, throwing his body weight into me.
Dudes jerk off together sometimes. We’re roommates and I’d like to think we’re friends. Shit, if I’m being honest with myself, Slater is probably my best friend, even though we haven’t known each other very long. Goofing off and jacking it together is no big thing. We could jerk off together every night and it wouldn’t have to mean anything.
I can’t believe I’ve never had a friend like Slater before. It’s kind of the fucking best.
CHAPTER NINE
SLATER
“Do these look right?”I ask, pushing the shrimp around in the pan. They smell damn good, that’s for sure. But the last thing I want to do is find a way to fuck them up so we end up with nothing but lettuce on our plates tonight.
