“Here you go.” The server places two glasses on the bar in front of me, pulling my attention away from my phone screen.
“Oh, thanks,” I say and I motion with my phone to pay for the drinks.
I’m still not sure what to text back after my bill is settled, but I know I want to say something. Of course, he’s not flirting with me. He’s Giles, and I’m… me. And I don’t want to leave him hanging after he’s clearly made a brave attempt to explain away what happened earlier. There’d been no time to talk after the shower. I left before he was out of his cubicle and had to rush to meet Daisy.
I text back eventually, knowing deep down it’s the right thing to do. Whatever my feelings about Giles, I would hate for it to ruin our friendship.
Regardless of what I may or may not be feeling about Giles, that doesn’t automatically mean he reciprocates an attraction. In fact, I would think it highly unlikely he is attracted to me considering what he looks like and what the men he normally goes for look like. Like Jeremy.
This is for the best. We can brush whatever happened in the shower under the carpet and go for a run together tomorrow without any awkwardness.
People have penises and penises get erections. That’s how Giles wants to play it and after everything he’s doing for me with the running and the training, I owe him that much.
It’s another generosity from Giles, offering to meet later should things with Daisy go in a certain direction. But I already know they’re not going there. I know because I don’t want them to go there. I’m going to finish this drink, ask her more questions about vegan smoothies and then I’m going home. Home to Mamma. Home to my bed. Home to maybe, some gay porn. Home to hopefully have another sex dream about Giles.
Chapter Twelve
Giles
Ican’t believe we’re doing this. Marcello and me. Being normal. It’s been three weeks since that incident in the shower and it feels like a lifetime ago. Well, it does most of the time. Sometimes, when I close my eyes I am right back there, Marcello tall and hairy and hard in front of me. But all I need to do is open my eyes and he disappears. It’s simple really.
His training is going well too. Really well. We did our first nine-kilometre run at the weekend and today he’s just got a full round of personal bests on several of the machines in the gym. I’ve also devised the perfect way to avoid having more awkward shower moments as I hang back to do some extra sets once his workout is complete, which is what I just explained to him I planned to do now. It’s perfect. I get to feel the burn myself. Marcello gets to shower in peace. And nobody gets hard in front of each other. I ready myself to shake hands with Marcello and say goodbye until the next time.
But that’s not what happens.
“Well, I can stay back and spot you, if you like,” Marcello says before taking a big swig from his water bottle.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I say in a rush. “I’m sure you have better things to do.”
It’s the closest I’ve gotten to asking Marcello if he’s had any other dates. He mentioned how it didn’t work out with Daisy but he didn’t seem bothered by it at all. He muttered something about plenty more fish in the sea and then we’ve not spoken about it since. He’s also not asked me about Jeremy, who has finally given up on me. Thankfully, since coming to thegym with Marcello when he finishes his early shift, I’ve also not bumped into Tony and that brings me even more relief.
“Nope,” Marcello says with an easy smile. “Nothing better to do. Also, I’d like to see the master at work.”
He winks at me and I have to tell myself three times in a row that it means nothing. It’s just banter. It’s just friendly banter.
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“Unless, you don’t think I can spot you?” Marcello’s brown eyes narrow. “Am I not strong enough?”
“You’re strong enough,” I say with a light chuckle.
“So come on, let’s see you sweat for a change!”
It’s not that I don’t work out when I’m having my training sessions with Marcello. I do my reps. I do enough. But I don’t exactly push myself. I don’t want to intimidate Marcello. I don’t want to detract from the fantastic progress he’s making. That’s why I stay back, or I come by myself.
“Okay, let’s go do some bench presses.” I gesture to the bench in front of the mirror.
After quickly explaining to Marcello where I need him to stand – at one end of the bench behind my head and between the racks – I then stack the bar with my desired weight.
“Woah, that’s impressive,” Marcello says as I place a 10kg circular weight on each end.
“You’ll be doing the same in no time,” I say as I reach for another 10kg plate.
“You’re adding more?” He sounds horrified. “I’m not even sure I’m going to be able to spot this.”
“Yes, you can. But hopefully you won’t need to step in,” I say. The man can deadlift 180kg. This should be fine. “This should be just a warm-up.”
