“You’re my favorite client, not a project.” He shoots me one of those big, toothy grins of his, then bumps his shoulder against mine and picks up his speed just a little as we round the corner and my apartment comes into view. “And, no, I don’t usually make my hookups go for a morning jog with me. But you got out of bed before I could talk you into my favorite form of morning cardio.”
My skin heats another few degrees and sweat forms on the back of my neck. It’s a hell of a lot harder to remember the breathing techniques he taught me when my heart starts racingfor reasons that have nothing to do with cardio. Butch shoots me a wink.
“We’ve got about seven hundred feet to go. Let’s give it everything we’ve got. Are you ready?”
“Fuck my life,” I mutter.
He chuckles, then takes off in a sprint. Sure, I could let him go and just DoorDash my own fancy coffee, but that urge to take the easy way out, to let myself off the hook and not even try is gone almost as quickly as it came. I ignore the way my lungs are already burning and the tightness creeping into my muscles, and with a string of Butch’s encouraging words echoing in my head, I sprint after him.
Our feet thunder against the sidewalk, my pulse pounds in my ears, and my vision narrows down to my goal, zeroing in on the stoop of my building getting closer and closer. I’m actually going to make it. The realization that I did it, that I actually kept up with Butch and didn’t give up is downright euphoric. A month ago, I couldn’t jog to the end of the block without seeing spots, and now look at me.
I slap my hand down on the rusty wrought iron railing and come to an abrupt stop.
“I did it,” I shout, spinning towards Butch. I feel so light, so giddy, soathletic.
“Hell yeah, you did.” He whoops and holds his arms open in a gesture I’ve started to recognize.
I laugh and chest bump him, slamming my chest into the brick wall of his, actually managing to keep my footing and not stumble backward with the force of it. I glance at the door and then back at him. I should tell him my coffee order, thank him for last night, and go upstairs. I’m sure Juno’s home, and I really do need to buckle down and work on that paper this weekend. Plus, if he comes up, there’s a chance he’ll want to actuallytalkabout what happened last night, and I’m not ready to burst this happy bubble with any kind of reality just yet.
“Do you want to come up for a few minutes?” Clearly, my mouth is not on the same page as my brain. I lick my lips and huff another laugh. “So I can change out of Fender’s clothes and give them back to you.”
It might be my imagination, but I think Butch’s smile fades a fraction. It’s only for a second though, and then it’s back to full wattage.
“Sure. God knows Fender doesn’t have enough joggers and T-shirts, I’d hate for him to be missing these for a couple of days,” he says with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
I chuckle again and then grab my keys and unlock the door. The flight of stairs inside might as well be Mount Everest after that run. I stop at the foot of them and groan.
“What are the chances I could call the landlord right now on a Saturday morning and get them to move us to a ground floor apartment?”
“I’m thinking slim.”
I groan again. “Fuck.”
“As your trainer, I really shouldn’t let you off the hook here,” he says, shrugging the drawstring backpack off of his shoulders and holding it out to me. I eye it, trying to figure out what he’s getting at. When I don’t make a move to take it, he squats and points at his back. “Climb on.”
“You’re going to give me a piggyback ride up the stairs?”
“Yeah, but don’t tell any of my other clients.” He grins.
“Deal.” I scramble onto his back, locking my arms and legs around him. I’m tempted to bury my face in the crook of his neck and run my tongue along the ropy tendons and muscles there, to taste the sweat on his skin to see what all the hype is about, to suck up a little bruise that would be impossible to hide.
He straightens up, and I gasp, abandoning my fantasy in favor of holding on for dear life as he sprints up the steps, letting out a little grunt when he lands on each one. I always kind of suspected that his exercise noises might be the same as his sex noises, but now I can confirm. And, fuck, how am I going to keep from getting turned on every time we work out together now?
I guess it’s a fair price to pay for last night.
He reaches the second-floor landing, breathing just a little heavier than he was a minute ago, and lets me down.
“I’ve always joked with Juno that we should start a petition to have an elevator installed in this building, but now I’m thinking we should pitch the idea to the landlord to have large, muscled men for hire to carry us up and down the stairs.” I unlock the apartment door and Butch follows me inside.
It’s silent inside, but Juno has a habit of sleeping in, especially on the weekends. I glance around for any sign of their shoes and spot a note on the coffee table instead.
Percy,
I really hope you’re reading this Saturday morning and not Friday night. Bow-chika-bowwow. Met a cute lesbian couple who live in Evanston, so I probably won’t be home until late Saturday… maybe even Sunday morning if I’m lucky. Have a good weekend!
“Well, it looks like I’ll have plenty of peace and quiet around the apartment to work today.” I set the note back down and look up at Butch.
His expression smolders and he drags his eyes over my body.
