Page 2 of Full Split
“Because the only guys I want all have something in common with you. Don’t act like you’re surprised.”
My heart drops to my stomach and my mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. I close it, sealing my lips together as I try to swallow, blinking rapidly and pointedly keeping my eyes on the road.
I've known Niles since he was a kid. He and Weston used to camp in our backyard. I taught him to swim in our pool, took him with us when Weston showed interest in gymnastics. I drove them to every early morning workout and practices, clapped and cheered them on at every meet. As teenagers, they'd laze around the house and stay up all night whispering about girls or guys they liked, eating half the groceries every time heslept over, which was a lot. Niles has always had a wicked sense of humor, full of overconfident charm and sarcasm. But I never took him seriously.
Suddenly, all of that feels like a lifetime ago. It’s like they grew into men overnight, and I'm only just now noticing. It’s not just the outfit, or picking him up from ahookupthat’s getting to me. It’s the way he’s looking at me, sitting too close—gorgeous and grown and entirely too self-aware. He's watching me with the same cocky grin he used to wear after sticking a difficult landing or nailing a routine that, in my overcautious nature to protect him, I’d warned against.
The unfamiliar awareness of him has my face burning. Worse than that—there's a heat radiating low in my gut, an unwanted twitch that has me shifting in my seat. Niles notices me squirm. Of course he does.
I've always been aware of how closely he watches me. His mom calls it hero worship, not that I think I'm deserving of such a title. Brianne is a single mother who worked a lot. Niles didn't grow up with a father figure, and from the time he and Weston were in kindergarten together, they were attached at the hip. I was such a young parent, barely out of my teens around that time, and it was comforting for Weston to have a playmate. So he was always included in whatever activity we were doing, including tagging along to the gym I worked at until I finished my degree.
Niles' grin widens. "Relax,Daddy. I'm not gonna climb into your lap or anything."
I swallow dryly. "Don't talk like that," I mutter.
"Why not? It's the truth. You know I think you're hot."
"Niles—"
"Wyatt," he says, mocking my warning tone.
It's true he's always teased me about being so much younger than the other parents, and he's made some general statements about my looks over the years. But they were just jokes. Weren’t they?
"I've kind of been in love with you for as long as I can remember. And I would one-hundred percent let you do terrible, awful things to me naked."
I choke when he stretches his leg out, the bottom of his leather boot brushing my thigh deliberately.
"Lighten up, Wyatt. I know you're off limits. I'll keep my hands to myself like a good boy."
I blink rapidly, trying to process. I don't know what to do or say or where to look other than at the road in front of me. I just keep my mouth shut and drive.
And hope to hell he can't hear how hard my heart is pounding.
CHAPTER 1
NILES
By the time we finish our normal warm-up circuit, I'm already sweating through my tank top. The mid-July heat is putting the gym's air conditioning to the test, and it is not holding up well. The stifling room, which usually smells like chalk and the antibacterial cleaner they use to disinfect everything at night, currently smells faintly of feet and body odor.
Weston finishes his last stretch and heads for the pommel horse. It's not my strongest event, but West always makes it look easy. I hang back for a minute, chalking my hands and watching him work. He doesn't need a spotter, but I still hover nearby, watching his smooth movements. His arms flex and roll as he circles, muscles popping under his skin, sweat making him shine under the overhead fluorescent lighting. He's graceful in a way I don't think I'll ever be on that thing, though I practice all the time to improve. Weston's movements are calculated and confident. It's almost hypnotic, and I don't realize how long I've been watching until he dismounts, landing only a foot away from me.
He pumps his eyebrows, knowing just how impressive he is. "You gonna take a turn, or try to one up me on the high bar?"
I smirk. "Thinking about it."
West's eyes flick to the door before he rolls them and tilts his head towards the high bar. "Come on. We both know you're going to get up there and try something reckless now that he's here."
He doesn't say who, but he doesn't have to. We both know who he means. And we both know he's right. I like showing off when he's in the room.
Wyatt’s gaze on me makes me want to fly.
He must have just come from the weight room. He's wearing a tight-fitting compression shirt that clings to his chest and shoulders, black athletic shorts that show off the bulk of his thick thighs, and gym shoes. His hair is damp at the temples, right around where the tiny smattering of silver strands are growing in. West and I like to give him shit about his hair going grey, but honestly, I love it. It looks damn good on him. I'm pretty sure there isn't much that wouldn't look good on him.
This man can do no wrong. He's got Henry Cavill looks with Pedro Pascal charisma, hotness multiplied by a thousand because he doesn't seem to be aware of just how fucking sexy he is. I swear everywhere he goes, men and women alike drop their panties and Wyatt, gorgeous oblivious Wyatt, picks them up and hands them back to them, like, "Oh, you dropped these," and then goes about his business as if he doesn’t notice the puddles he leaves behind.
Wyatt's arms flex as he wipes a towel over the back of his neck. My mouth goes dry. He's more built than Weston. He’s bigger, heavier, and solid in a way that screams safety and sex at the same time. It's all too easy to imagine what it would feel like forhim to lift me in his arms, one hand bracing my back, the ease of it like I weigh nothing to him. He could hold me up and press me against the wall with one hand and still have the other free to?—
Whoa there, Niles. Shut it down before you embarrass yourself.
