Page 22 of Tough Guy and the Show Off

Groaning, I pull myself up until I’m face to face with my best friend. Sweat clings to his skin, making his dirty blond hair damp and his cheeks flushed. The blue of his eyes stands out even more. I’ve always wondered what it feels like to be so fucking perfect. He’s got it all—looks, hockey skills, and a killer personality. I’m lucky he likes me.

My legs are shaking, but I manage to get onto the machine, lying on my stomach and doing nothing for several seconds until Trav swats my ass.

“Get to work, Bozy. These muscles don’t build themselves.”

“Ass,” I mumble, but he laughs, knowing there’s zero bite in the word.

Trav adds weights for me and then I start lifting, curling my ankles up toward me and feeling the burn. After a few reps, Trav puts his fingers on the base of my back. He pushes down slightly before flattening his hand.

“Keep your core tight,” he says, coaching me.

I refocus, but stutter when he kneels in front of me.

“Five more.”

Nodding, I close my eyes and push through the final five as Trav counts me down. I grunt as I slump for a second.

“Nice work,” Trav says. “That ass is so tight you could bounce a quarter off it.”

“Is that a real thing?”

He chuckles. “No idea. I’ve never tried it, but take the compliment.”

“Thanks.”

He offers a hand and helps me up, then we make our way to the cardio room for a quick run. He outpaces me easily, which is annoying, so I hike up my speed. He does the same thing, and before long we’re both panting and dripping with sweat. My legs feel like jelly, but I keep going.

Travis grins at me, increasing his speed one more time, knowing he’s pushing us both to the edge. A woman walks by, her brow creasing with concern when she notices how fast we’re running, and that snaps me out of it.

I concede, reluctantly, pressing the speed down. Trav follows my lead quickly, until we’re both walking to cool down. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing pretty hard.

“Proud of yourself?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah, but thanks for being the smart one. I was about to die. And Coach is going to be pissed if we show up to practice already overworked.”

We both laugh at that. “Yeah, he is,” I agree.

“Speaking of, what time is it?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances at the time. “Shit. We’ve gotta go or we’re gonna be late.”

I groan. “Yeah, I don’t want to be the reason everyone has to skate suicides for an hour. Let’s go.”

A few hours later, we step into our building and wait for the elevator, both of us exhausted to the bone. Trav shuffles his feet, glancing at me more than once.

“What?”

He shakes his head as the elevator opens and we step on. The ride to our floor is quiet, but I still get the sense that something is on his mind. When we step out, he grabs my wrist, looking up and down the hall.

“Come over for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And I was thinking…” His teeth graze his bottom lip, and he looks around again, even though it’s obvious we’re alone.

“What’s up, Trav?”

“We played so well the other night.”

“We did, yeah.” Best we’ve ever played, honestly.