Page 7 of Not That Ridiculous

“I’m your doctor.” With none of her usual humour, she’d added, “Your genuinely concerned doctor.”

And that uncharacteristic seriousness, accompanied by the crisp instruction to come back and see her in three months rather than a year was the main reason I’d allowed Jasper to boss me out of my house and into his car.

Where I now sat, with my ears throbbing and my eyes watering as he straight-up murdered Lady Gaga.

“Jasper,” I said as we waited at the traffic lights, “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before, and I’m only bringing it up because we’re friends and I care about you, but you cannot sing like Lady Gaga, and I really think it would be best for everyone if you stopped trying. Or singing at all. Please and thank you.”

“You care about me?” Jasper said with a grin. “I love you too, Charlie.” He reached for a high note and missed it by a mile.

I winced.

I did love Jasper, deeply. I always would. I’d got over my romantic feelings for him a long time ago now, though, and it was because I loved him that I’d been able to get over him in the first place. He was, quite simply, made for his partner, Liam Nash. And Liam Nash was made for him.

They clicked, they fit, they vibed.

They were truly disgusting to observe out and about in the wild as a couple.

If you love someone you want the best for them. Liam was the best for Jasper, not me. End of story.

It took me threatening to open my door and get out of the car at the next set of traffic lights to make him stop singing, and by then we’d arrived at the independent gym where he worked.

If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was trying to distract me.

He parked in a spot reserved for staff and hustled me into the building. It had been converted about a decade ago from an old warehouse, and was situated at the edge of an industrial estate that was slowly catching up to the gym owners’ vision and undergoing a revamp.

I hoped that none of the warehouses got revamped into a Starbucks. Their nearest store was currently halfway between Chipping Fairford and Oxford, and that was more than close enough for my liking.

“I cannot believe you’re this old,” Jasper said over his shoulder as we walked into the building, “and have never set foot in a gym before.”

“Thank you. I, too, think it’s quite the achievement.”

“It would be like me getting to thirty-one and never having come into The Chipped Cup.

“Mm-hmm.”

“You’ll be coming here every day after work, you wait and see. Get your sweat on. Get your endorphins going. Burn the stress off. You’re going to love it. You’ll be hooked.”

Unlikely.

I clenched the fingers I had wrapped around the strap of my gym bag and nodded. “Yep.”

He checked me in as a guest, then said, “Come on. Let’s get you a locker.”

I followed him down the corridor and had to suppress a smile at seeing him here in his element, striding like a little king. Or not so little, since he was six-three and came with the kind of lean muscles you’d expect from a fitness professional.

Jasper had had his share of struggles a few years back, and seeing him thrive now did my heart good.

He led the way into the changing room and over to a bench that ran below a row of painted-metal, industrial-chic locker doors.

I’d been so busy feeling out of place that two very important things about the gym had slipped my mind.

One: the changing room was very likely going to have naked men in it.

Two: there was a non-zero chance that one of those naked men would be Kevin Wallis.

Kevin Wallis, who glanced up from where he wasmanspreadingon a bench three feet away from me, smiled calmly, and said, “All right, Charlie?”

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