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And so I hold back. I wait, listening for the moment his breaths even out, and then I walk out the door.

Chapter 7

Without Meaningful Romantic Relationships

Aleks

If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s channeling frustration into exercise.

The weight room is full, teeming with athletes of all disciplines. It’s loud, and the air is almost nauseatingly thick with sweat and pheromones. That’s the downside of putting so many of us together—between the heats and ruts and general collective horniness of this many beautiful beings all in one place, there’s a constant feeling of tension in the air.

I’m not much of a weightlifter. It was never a part of our training growing up, but I’ve gotten into it more since transitioning. It’s been an undoing of so many deep-seated beliefs about myself and my body, seeing muscles grow and shift, seeing hair thicken on my legs and in my armpits, watching my neck thicken in the mirror.

At home, I lift with Damian. It’s something we started doing together, in an effort to get out of the house. We’re both novices, but generally keep each other from getting hurt. He’s got upper body strength that makes me look pathetic, but at least I can humiliate him with my squats.

Without him with me, I’m not sure where to start.

I move toward the rack of free weights, trying to ignore the off-kilter feeling that has haunted me since I woke up.

Javier was gone when I climbed down the stairs. The single pillow on the small sofa was perfectly placed. The kitchen was tidy and empty. For a minute it felt like he’d never been there at all, like I’d hallucinated the past twenty-four hours fueled by horny delusion.

But no. His bag was tucked under a side table, all of his things put meticulously away.

So last night did happen, which means my hookup with a stranger was actually interrupted by my coach, who went full, growly-Daddy and called me “boy.” It also means I really sucked his cock while humping his leg.

I grab two 30-pound weights and start a set of lunges. I lower down slowly, ignoring a little twinge in my knee. Working out like this is reckless days before my qualifying performance, but I’m desperate to get out of my head.

What the hell was I thinking? I can’t hook up with my coach. But now that I know that Javier fucking Zamora is…fuck, he’s exactly the kind of man I was out looking for last night.

A part of me hates that he saw me like that—on my knees, desperate and begging.

And another part of me can’t wait to find an excuse to do it again.

My legs and arms are shaking as I make my way to the gym door, doing my best not to waddle.

“Ale?”

I stop dead in my tracks. My shoulders curl forward, shielding myself as my mind races to identify the voice calling out that name—a version of the name I left behind, and one I haven't heard in years. Finally, I turn.

I immediately recognize my cousin Cora, but before I do more than give her a cursory glance I look around, trying to get a grip on the panic squeezing my lungs. Was anyone else with her? I scan my surroundings with new attention to detail, trying to pick out any familiar faces and expecting to see more of them. More of my family, my clan, the people who’d turned their backs on me.

“It’s just me,” Cora says, and her voice is so familiar I want to fucking cry.

Now that I know it’s only the two of us, I actually look at her. She’s grown up since I last saw her. Her style has evolved too—there’s no sign of the golden-blonde highlights and glittering pink lip gloss that were her signature style when we were seventeen. She looks like a badass, hair dyed black with a few bleached strands framing her face, and a piercing in her eyebrow. The patch of purple scales where her neck meets her shoulders sparkle in the white light.

“They let you pierce your eyebrow?” I press my lips together, squeezing my eyes shut. What the fuck is wrong with me? Of course, that’s the first thing I say to someone I haven’t seen in years. I open my eyes. “Sorry. Hi?”

Cora snorts, her dark brown eyes flashing with amusement. “My mom and I fought about it, but yes.” Her expression turns serious. “I’m…would you mind introducing yourself? I know I knew you, in that we grew up together, but I’d love to meet you, officially.”

She looks nervous. It’s odd seeing discomfort on someone who had always been so fearless in my eyes. She was the one who would do flips from the cliffs into the cenotes, and the only one who was ever brave enough to try a prank on my mother.

But now, here she is, looking at me like she’s afraid of stumbling over her words. Like she really, sincerely, doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.

I extend a hand. “I’m Aleks,” I say softly.

There’s nothing but kindness on her face when she takes my hand and shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Aleks.”

“Yeah,” I say back, swallowing against the emotion rising in my throat. “Want to, uh–” I point toward the doors, aware that we are having this conversation in the direct path of foot traffic.