California, Brother

8.

'Want me to spot you?'

Funny how it had to take a stranger in the gym to realize a) I was good looking to the general public, and b) some of Eric's looks had definitely not been platonic. The stranger in question, judging by the way he'd eagerly misinterpreted my look, was probably not straight. Eric is probably not straight, either. Don't get me wrong, I definitely had been staring, but staring in that way you do when you're thinking rather intensely about something else and your eyes happen to land on someone unassuming. That being the only other man in the gym. Normally, there would be people around to distract me from being found out, but it was 9 AM and this was a Planet Fitness that was only open to black card memberships. The stranger, who might be a personal trainer or a Gym Shark model just by the look of him, was now approaching me with a smile. I smiled back, taking note of his interest. He had the decency to be subtle about it. Being flirted with at the gym was not new to me. There were nuances one grew to appreciate after a while. He was passing off the way he'd raked his gaze over me as someone sizing up a worthy competitor, and I smiled wider.

'Sure,' I said. He went around me where I was straddling the bench. I lay back down. 'Just hover, okay,' I instructed, readying myself for a grueling set of bench presses. 'I'll let you know when it's getting heavy.'

'You come here often?' He asked. He had his knee next to my ear. I focused on completing my set and putting the barbell back before I answered. From the vantage point of lying down, he was kinda unattractive looking, with a crooked septum and a steroid-enhanced jaw. His hair was buzzed, giving him the appearance of an army recruit. I shook the thought away. It wasn't like I was going to sleep with him. My thoughts had been so far away from this gym and this man in particular, the entire situation would've struck me as comedic was I not, in fact, now beginning to entertain the idea—not exactly sleeping with him, but flirting until the world made sense again. Or until Eric and his desires did.

'Thanks for the help. I really appreciate it, but I got it.' Seeing I wasn't about to volunteer any more information, he smiled tightlipped and nodded his bye. I shook my head as I watched him go. Why had it never occurred to me that Eric could've been flirting with me? All those times his eyes had lingered just as intensely as the stranger's and he'd smile that slow smile—why had I been so quick to dismiss it? Just thinking of all the wasted opportunities where our tongues could've been exploring each other was genuinely upsetting me. And what was worse was knowing Eric's repressed nature would've never allowed him to share any of these desires with me. If not for that slip up, he would've sent me off with a goodbye and a slap on the shoulder. Over my fucking dead body.

There was actually a chance now. Yesterday, that chance had been rolling in the dust and today it was grazing the clouds. I'd woken up soaring, humming on a Lizzo song I hadn't heard in over a year. I immediately knew I needed to exercise, and I needed to strategize, and I needed Eric to give in to whatever God sent impulse had overtaken him last night. Fuck, I just needed his lips on mine sometime this century. Please. Was that too much to ask for? I'd left for the gym, feeling in my marrow the certainty that if I acted right, my desires would come to fruition. Emphasis on act right. What I needed was for him to see reason. I was hot and horny. He was mouthwateringly gorgeous, and single, and sort of lonely. The equation couldn't have been made simpler.

Yes, if Eric didn't believe he'd burn in hell for it.

Hence why I once again found myself staring off into the distance. I'd been thinking myself into the same dead-end for the better half of an hour. Surely, I was underestimating the power of denial? Maybe I could help him compartmentalize the two like we'd done that summer. Sex could exist in its own box, separate and free from influencing everything else we shared.