Braxton
Onelastrep.I thrust the dumbbells above my head to complete the shoulder press, holding back a grunt. I’m not going to bethatdude. I lower the weights to the floor, none too gently, then sit on the fitness bench next to me and slump over. I definitely pushed myself too hard tonight, but I had to make up for missing the past two days. Hadley still isn’t telling me where we’re headed next on this trip, so I have no clue if I’ll have access to a gym.
Just the thought of her name stirs my stomach—and not in a good way. Not gonna lie, a smidge of guilt has been eating at me over all the flirting. I had put Hadley in a mental box and slapped a big red sign that read OFF LIMITS when I was younger. It was going well…until Mom passed away. It’s like the void she left in my life was suddenly too large to ignore, and Hadley began to fill it in ways I didn’t think anyone could.
“Hey, man.” A voice emerges from behind me. “You finished with the bench?” I glance up to find a man around my age holding dumbbells of his own.
“Yeah, I’m done.” I stand, stretching my arms out a little as I walk away.
“You okay?” The man has concern written across his face.Bro, you’re breaking gym etiquette.
“Upper body’s just tight,” I remark, stretching my arms out again as if to prove my point. The man laughs and sits down on the bench, laying on his back and placing the dumbbells shoulder length apart.
“I wasn’t talking about your workout,” he muses in a deep southern accent. Not redneck Mississippi or slow Carolina, but maybe Tennessee? “You looked like you were sulking on that bench.” He lifts the weights. Up, down. I continue to stare incredulously.Gym. Etiquette.
He finishes his set and sits up. “I’m a bit outspoken, so don’t mind me. I know you don’t know me, but we brothers gotta stick together when it comes to women.” My body relaxes as if it knew before I did that I’d found a sense of camaraderie in this guy. I’ll let gym etiquette go for now.
“She’s my best friend,” is all I say, and he nods his head empathetically.
“Friend-zoned?”
“No—yes,” I huff. “Things have changed between us, and now she’s got me on this romantic road trip that she’d planned for an ex before he cheated on her and she kicked him to the curb.”
“That’s tough, man.” I laugh and nod along. The toughest.
“I’m always the designated friend.” I feel a second wind coming on like I could max out on pushups again. “She needed a date for the homecoming dance? Me. A date to the skating rink? Me. Someone to go see the latest chick-flick with?”
“You,” the man chimes in with a chuckle. “Does she have female friends?”
“She does, and they’re great. But when she finds herself in need of a man on her arm, it’s always me.”
“The boyfriend without the benefits.” He begins another set of dumbbell bench presses. A song by that very name begins to play in my head.
“What’s your name, dude? We’ve gotten personal,” I ask after a moment. He grunts—beingthatdude—before sitting up with heaving breaths.
“Mason Kane.” He knowingly smiles. My heart stops.
“The country singer Mason Kane? The singer of ‘Boyfriend Without Benefits’?” He stands up and extends a hand to me. I stare at it a moment too long before grasping it with a firm, excited shake. Is this what being starstruck feels like?
“That song’s my new anthem.” I still don’t quite believe he is standing in front of me. Now I feel bad I didn’t recognize him. “Dude, I’m sorry I didn’t know who you were,” I begin. “I don’t make a habit of memorizing what singers look like. That’d be Hadley.” Mason holds his hands up with little waves.
“No big deal. You’re a guy. I’m assuming Hadley’s the girl that’s got your heart?”
“She’s the one.” I sigh. “The one waiting in the room right up that elevator.”
“What are you doing down here with me then?”
“Burning off pent-up feelings.” I laugh, feeling free and seen. Mason joins in.
“I know the feeling, obviously,” he continues laughing. “I didn’t catch your name. Where are you from?”
“Braxton Rawls,” I say, wondering how in the world I ended up standing in a hotel gym in North Carolina giving my name to country artist Mason Kane. Should I ask him to sign my guitar? Nah. Mom gave it to me, and I’d rather keep it clean. “I come from the small town of Juniper Grove, Mississippi.”
His eyes widen and recognition flicks across them. “Oh really? I’m fixing to build a vacation home there. Know any good contractors?”
I laugh. “Actually, my brother-in-law has a company. His name’s Michael Kelly. He’s been trying to get me to go back to school for an architect degree and join as the architect for the past few years.”
“You design?”
