And now here I am, looking like a zombie—and a very unsexy one at that—but I’m here nonetheless. In France, I attended a gym and spent a lot of time walking everywhere, so I didn’t lose muscle mass, but I remember what Dex’s classes were like. I remember how hard they were.
And the truth is, the only ass working I want to do is me bending over and taking it up my hole.
I find a place near a corner, far enough away he may not see me, but close enough that I can see him perfectly.
A man wearing tight shorts and a tank top next to me tries to speak to me, but I’m not in the mood to converse, so I just touch my ear, and he blushes in realization.
Then his hands lift, and I internally groan.
I should be happy he’s trying. I really should, but I’m not inthe mood to teach. That’s all Deaf people seem to do. And while I don’t mind it, I just can’t today.
‘Hi,’ he signs.
I grimace. I’m too tired to be an asshole. ‘Hi. My name Rome,’ I spell. I don’t bother giving my sign name. He won’t get it, anyway.
He attempts to spell my name twice—because he got theMwrong the first time. The second time is right, so I give him a thumbs-up.
‘How-are-you,’ he signs in English.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. He probably learned that from some hearing person who was educated by a first-semester hearing person on YouTube.
‘Fine,’ I sign, mouthing along. I offer him an encouraging smile because I really do want more people to immerse themselves in my language and feel brave enough to use it in public.
So many don’t, even after they learn.
I’m about to ask him his name when something in the room shifts. I don’t know why my heart is suddenly pounding like I’m already halfway into my cardio, and somehow, every fiber of my being knows who just stepped into the room without me looking over.
It’s him.
My hands falter, and the man I’m next to must sense it because he peers over his shoulder and watches as Dex strides in front of the class.
He looks so hot this morning. Even better than last night, if that’s possible.
It wasn’t just the drugs. It was him.
He’s potent.
My hands drop to my sides, and the hearing man gets the hint, moving to his spot on the mat and facing forward. I do thesame, staring intently at the wall so I don’t start drooling. I may be tired and a little sex-starved, but at least I’m not out of my mind high again.
The same TV they had when I was here last turns on right above Dex’s head, and he adjusts the microphone near his mouth.
God, that fucking mouth. My tongue peeks out and wets my dry lips as he starts speaking. “Good morning, everyone! I’m excited to see you for our first glutes and core class.”
Glutes and core. Fancy way for saying abs and ass, but I can appreciate it.
“This is going to be an intense workout, but we’re going to have a nice long warm-up and a nice long cooldown, so I hope you stick with me. Remember, listen to your body. Feel your body. Don’t push yourself too far.”
As I read the words on the TV screen, I can’t help but wonder if they’re for me. I’ve pushed myself more than once with him, and he knows it. I can’t help remembering the first time he ever put his hands on me. I was pinned to the mat, and his warm, calloused fingers were on the inside of my thigh.
He’d been trying to help, and god, I’d hated him for it because that was when everything started. I’d appreciated him before, but the moment I knew what it felt like when he touched me was the moment my obsession began.
Something inside of me aches, and I stare him down, but he doesn’t look my way. Not once. I can tell he’s avoiding my gaze entirely.
Fuck.
Suddenly, speakers thump under my feet as the music starts, and Dex begins our warm-up.
Damn these brothers and their fucking fitness, I think as I groan. I’m pretty sure no one can hear me. The music must be loudenough, so I let myself feel the burn as he works us through stretches, then sit-ups, then squats.
