It’s better this way.
“Cool. Whatever. There’s, uh, a few rowing machines open. Let’s grab one.”
I follow Zane inside, Cielo stepping to my side and following. His eyes take everything in, growing wider and wider as we move toward the front desk where Quilliyn stands. It’s almost like he’s never been in a gym before.
Quilliyn’s gaze flashes to Zane and then to Cielo. I see a flicker of awareness shift between them, and then they’re both speaking to one another in that humming, melodic language of theirs.
“What do you think they’re saying?” I ask Zane, who flushes red when Quilliyn’s eyes meet his, his voice lowering slightly.
It feels almost suggestive.
“No idea. And I honestly don’t give a shit,” he replies.
I huff a laugh just as Quilliyn and Cielo stop speaking, and we’re waved through.
By the time we find the rowers, they’re taken, and Zane mutters a bunch of curses under his breath.
“It’s fine. It’s fine. Let’s…I don’t know.” I sweep my hand around the building. “Let’s take that class.”
“Dude. It’sZumba.”
“Yeah, so what?”
“I can’t fucking Zumba, and neither can you.” Then he sweeps his hand toward Cielo, “And I bet he can’t either. Dude looks like he’s all limbs and tail.”
I huff. “So what? I just need to fucking move for a bit. I can’t…” I run a hand through my hair and tug on it. “I’m going crazy.”
Zane’s gaze softens. “Yeah, alright. I guess you watching me try to do the moves will make you feel better.”
My lips quirk up. “Yeah, I think it will.”
Turns out watching Zane miss every step and curse each oneisa balm for my nervous heart. It helps that Cielo gets each one right. He seems to be some kind of natural dancer, which only fuels Zane’s annoyance.
By the time we’re out of the class, Zane’s cheeks are flushed red, his chest heaving and his shirt slightly damp. “I fucking hate dancing.”
“Well, you suck at it.”
“You’re not much better.”
“Better than you,” I say and shove at him. He shoves me back, but it’s quickly stopped by Cielo, who steps between us, his gaze narrowed, his tail wrapping around my waist.
Zane rolls his eyes and nods toward the back of the gym where the smoothie and coffee cart sits. When I whisper this to Cielo, his eyes flash in excitement.
“Come on. My treat,” Zane says as we walk. “And I’ll even get whatever this guy wants. He deserves it after that hip roll.”
Cielo peers over at Zane, who refuses to meet his gaze. But honestly, it’s an improvement. At least he’s acknowledging that Cielo exists.
When we order our smoothies and Cielo orders an extra-large latte, we take a seat and wait for them to be made. Zane and I settle into some cold metal chairs as Cielo folds himself into a beanbag.
I bite back a laugh at the surprised noise he makes as he sinks all the way down into it. “Shouldn’t have sat there, dude. You won’t be able to get back up.”
His eyes are wide as he rolls from side to side, and the way he’s struggling even has Zane smirking.
“So, come on, tell me what’s up with you?” he asks.
“Nothing really.”
He gives me an epic side-eye. “Dude. You can’t tell me you’re in an exclusive dick-sucking arrangement with a monster and nothing’s new.”
