I’m doing a good job keeping my eyes forward and not worrying about anyone else until the door opens and Brody Miller walks in. Late. Not that Coach says anything about it.
Brody peels off his hoodie and drops his athletic pants right there in the corridor. Someone, probably Cade, whistles, and I roll my eyes to cover the way they automatically drift toward his body. He’s thick everywhere. His chest, his back, his fucking thighs that look like they could crush a person to death. The tight compression shorts ride high on his hips, the fabric stretched tight over the firm globes of his ass.
Jesus.
He's a couple inches shorter than me, but he’s bigger and broader by far. He’s solid. Probably at least one weight class higher than me, if not two. At least we aren’t likely to be paired up for training.
Not wanting to be caught staring, I snap my eyes away from Brody’s body, but I’m not sure I’m fast enough. In my periphery, I can see his lips quirk.
“Looking good yourself, Lincoln,” he says, moving just behind me and dropping his voice low so no one else can hear him.
“Don’t call me that,” I deadpan, blatantly ignoring his acknowledgement that he did, in fact, catch me looking.
“What? Your name? What else am I supposed to call you, then?”
“Nothing,” I say, my voice sharp. “You don’t call me anything.”
He tsks. “Are you really this butthurt over losing one match to me in high school?”
My gaze darts to his, finding his blue eyes assessing me teasingly. I scoff, because he knows very well what I’mbutthurtabout. He cocks his head, but I turn away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of talking about it. He just wants to make me say it out loud, but I won’t do it.
One by one, guys step up onto the scale, step down, and shuffle away, while we move up in line. The tension thickens the longer we’re this close to each other. Close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him and smell his soapy bodywash. Close enough that I’m acutely aware of every slow inhale he takes, like he’s taking up all the oxygen in the room. Brody’s breathing and hismassive shoulders are taking up too much airspace and pushing the rest of us away to make room.
Finally, it’s my turn. I exhale, step on, and wait for the beep.
“One seventy-five point four,” Coach reads off. “Not bad for preseason. Well done, as expected. You can go, Mr. Beckett.”
I step down quickly, because I don’t want to be standing too close when Brody is weighed. I don’t want to be tempted to turn around and look at him. I absolutely do not want to look. I don’t.
But I do anyway, my morbid curiosity getting the better of me.
Brody steps up with a casual roll of his shoulders that sends a ripple down his arms and over his back as he settles his stance. He’s thick and carved in a way that’s almost indecent, all the way down to his cut v-line that points to a far too prominent bulge.
I blink rapidly and direct my eyes up to the number on the scale that flashes 179.2.
My mouth is suddenly dry. That’s not possible. Sure, he’s shorter than me, but with a build like that he should be way heavier.
Coach grunts something approving, muttering something under his breath that I can’t hear. Brody jokes casually with him, like they’re friends or something, and says some stupid shit about being a corn-fed Nebraskan for the past two years.
Cade appears at my elbow like he’s been waiting for the right moment to piss me off. “Oh, well will you look at that? You’re going to be sharing a weight class with your new bestie.”
“Fuck off, Cade.”
“Oh, come on. You have to admit he’s a damn good addition to the team. He’s a goddamn brick shithouse.”
“He’s… fine. I guess.”
Cade snorts. “Fine? Are you pretending not to notice him, too?” He pushes my shoulder playfully. “Or are you just jealous that you didn’t pack on the muscle as well as some of us have?”
“Shut. Up.”
“Whatever you say, Captain. Have fun grappling with that monster.”
If someone could tell me why the fuck my eyes automatically drop to Brody’s crotch, that’d be great. Covering the shake I have to give my head to empty my thoughts, I shove a laughing Cade aside. I’m failing at pretending none of this bothers me.
Brody is looking at me now. Directly at me, like he caught every second of where my eyes, and my thoughts, travelled to. He drags his eyes down my body, neck, chest, and abs. He does it slowly enough that I can feel his gaze on me. My face gets hot. Then he tilts his head, just slightly, like he’s sizing me up for real. It’s almost like he’s saying, “Yeah, I could take you,” without saying the words out loud.
Something I can’t name but feels like heat settles low in my stomach. I swallow hard and look away.
