Chapter 3
Xander
Rubber floors. Metal clangs. The steady thud of bass in my ears as I shove the weight overhead.
I love the gym at Merged. My company. A company that I’m building here with my partners.
Something that’s mine.
Something I won’t fail at.
Something I keep growing and succeeding at. Something I can have.
Just because I can have something doesn’t mean I want it.
Why do I keep thinking about that even weeks later? Why can’t I imagine that concept in practice?
I want all I can have, don’t I?
But it’s not just her subtle determination behindthat rejection. It’s the smile that came with it. The twinkle in her eyes.
The pistachio cream in the corner of her lips that I didn’t lick away. The lips I didn’t kiss.
“Why are you smiling like an idiot?” Cal swats me with his towel, sweat trickling from his forehead.
“I figured out how we can save the Chicago deal.” I tap my earphones to stop the music.
It’s not a lie, because I do have a solution for the trouble we encountered with one of our clients.
The annoying part is that he caught me grinning without me even realizing I was. I’m so fucked.
“If thinking about work puts that smile on your face, you have a problem, dude.” He unscrews the cap on the bottle and gulps it down, before basketball dunking it into a bin.
“As if anything else made you smile before you got married and became a father, and utterly boring.” I stand up from the bench. “Have you worked out? Or just flirted with your reflection on the treadmill again?” I redirect from myself.
“Asshole.” He wipes his forehead and tosses the towel over his shoulder. “Take it from the converted, settling down has been surprisingly rewarding. It doesn’t compare to the constant, fleeting gratification of partyingand hookups.”
“I’m too young to settle.” I load another disk on my bar, because apparently I’ve lost my damn mind today.
“That is a nice story to believe, when the truth is nobody would take the leap.” He snorts.
“Are you saying I’m not a good catch?” I pretend-scoff.
“I’m saying you’re incapable of dating, let alone of any serious commitment.” He lowers himself onto the rowing machine and grabs the handles. “It’s okay if that’s what you want.” He starts rowing.
“I’m capable of commitment.” Even to my ears, I sound unconvincing. “I just don’t want one. I’m enjoying my bachelor status.”
“I’m sure you are,” he pants out, increasing his speed. His tone is definitely mocking.
“Let’s bet on it.” I don’t even know what I’m saying. Why do I care about his opinion on the matter?
He stops rowing and frowns at me. “You want to bet on enjoying your bachelor status?”
“No, you douchebag, ten thousand that I can date one woman for at least a month.”
He laughs. “That’s hardly a commitment, but you’re on. In fact, make it twenty thousand.”
“You’re awfully cocky.”
