Page 57 of Ripped

“Yes, of course I’m serious. Although, you’ll have to help me clear out Roger’s things, but then it’s all yours.”

I can imagine Connor here already, sitting at the desk, typing away on his computer. It’ll be nice having someone use this room again. To have someone bring life back into what has become a mausoleum. But that’s what Connor’s been doing all along, hasn’t he? He’s lured me back from my doldrum existence and reminded me what it means to be me again. And now he’s infusing some much-needed vibrancy into this old, empty house.

“You can switch up whatever you want. New chair. New desk. You should make the office your own.”

Connor studies the desk for a bit, then pulls the chair out. He glances at me. “Can I?”

I nod and he sits down in it. The chair fits him. His posture is immediately better. When he pulls himself toward the desk, he takes on a confidence that I’m not sure he’s experienced before. His shoulders are back, his chest is forward. He’s sitting tall and smiling wide.

“What do you think?” he asks me, eyes bright and shining.

“It looks good on you,” I say. It looks perfect on him.

“I think I’ll keep this,” he says, running his palms over the desk.

“It’s yours,” I say. All of it—all of me—is his.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CONNOR

I race up the subway stairs two at a time and almost trip over some dude’s dog.

“Sorry!” I call out as I skirt around them.

Filming at the hotel in Midtown ran long. When I texted Donnie, he said he was saving me a bike, so I’d better be there. If I’m lucky, I’ll make it just before the first song starts.

“Hey, Connor!” Sawyer nods to me as I rush into Mars.

I’ve already got my bag open and I’m digging through it, trying to find my gym pass.

“Don’t worry about it.” He waves me through. “You can scan it later.”

“Thanks so much!” In the locker room, I change faster than Superman and I’m about to burst into the spin room when I skid to a stop at the door.

The class hasn’t started yet. People aren’t even on their bikes. More than a handful of guys are crowded around the sound system and even though I can’t see past them, it’s obvious that Donnie’s the center of everyone’s attention.

A tinge of jealousy runs up my spine and a sudden flash of insecurity has me rooted to the spot. He hasn’t stopped being Donnie, The Spin Instructor, just because we’re dating now. All these guys are still infatuated with him, hungry for his attention, willing to throw themselves at him.

“You should’ve called me! I would’ve nursed you back to health!”

Donnie’s laughter rings out over their heads. “I already have my own personal nursemaid but thank you.”

That eases some of my hesitancy and I inch forward.

“We’re so happy you’re back, Donnie.” Whoever that is, he’s laying it on so thick, it’s almost lecherous.

“Seriously, Donnie. That sub was awful.”

“He didn’t push us hard enough.”

“I didn’t like the songs he used.”

“I thought he pushed too hard.”

Everyone’s a freaking critic.

“Okay, all right.” Two loud claps have the crowd scattering to their bikes. “Thanks, everyone. I’m glad to be back too, but we need to get the class started.”

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