Page 28 of Most Valuable Player
“Are you trying to kill me?” he demands, slinging himself upright to stare daggers.
I huff at him with displeasure. “The more flexible you are,” I say, rolling my hand dramatically, “the wider you’ll be able to spread your legs for me. Since apparently that’s why you think I invited you here.”
“Is it not?” he asks with a weak, uncertain smile. Something about the defeated way he says it bothers me. Is he seriously anticipating that I’m going to invite him to bed after our workout? Is that why he’s been so apprehensive?
“Why would you think that?” I grumble. “I hardly know you.”
Mason stares at me long and hard for several seconds, his expression unreadable. “Did you not just ask me out last week because you’re attracted to me?” he asks coolly.
“I said I like your face because it’s symmetrical,” I squeak out. “That doesn’t mean I want to fuck you.”
Mason cocks his head with curiosity. “You don’t?”
“Why would I?” I demand, taking an uneasy step back. The intensity in his stare is unnerving, like he’s trying to dissect me. “Like I said, I barely know you.”
“I thought you were trying to sleep your way across the entire graduating class.”
“Well, that’s a lie.”
“Then why,” he says softly, “are you doing this for me?”
I stare at him blankly. He returns it with heightened concentration that makes me want to crumble away.
“You tested a burger place’s vegan options to make sure they would taste good for me,” he says slowly. Maybe he feels guilty about cornering me, because he stretches for the ground again. “Youspecifically chose a studying place with food so you wouldn’t worry about if I was hungry. Now you’re offering to make me a personal workout routine. If it’s not because you want me tospread my legsfor you, then why?”
Mason rises, then decides to reach for the ceiling, now deliberately avoiding my eyes.
“If it’s not for anything in return,” he says, quieter, “then that means Cameron Morelli must be different than who I thought he was.”
By the time he finishes, I feel like all of my intestines have been brutally squeezed between tight fists. My breath is coming in short, panicked spurts. What is he talking about? The things I’m doing…Aren’t they things normal people would do? Cam Morelli is well-liked, meticulously crafted to resemble the most popular people in my previous school. Confident, boisterous, fun-loving, flirty. He looks out for himself, but that doesn’t mean he’s a dick to everyone around him. He has friends because he’s a decent, loyal guy.
Isn’t it normal for Cam Morelli to help someone with their workout routine? To bring them to a burger place to indulge in some greasy slop?
How is this out of character?
I guess Mason never reallyknewCam Morelli outside of brief interactions, and maybe assumed the worst of him because of the “gets around” rumor I’ve allowed to be tied to him. I don’t need to have an episode over the fact that he’s poking daggers into my stone walls. They’re still perfectly solid and sturdy.
I decide the only thing I can do right now is move the subject. I just need to get through this session and pretend like I don’t care as much as I do. “Lunges,” I say, hoping I sound casual. I frame my hips and put one foot toward him, squatting down. “Try one.”
He gives me another dubious look, clearly seeing through my distraction attempt. Nonetheless, he does as commanded. But as he sinksdown, he wobbles and topples over with a groan of misery. I snag him beneath his elbows, keeping him upright.
“You’re trying to humiliate me,” Mason says tightly, the hollows of his cheeks rosy as he wriggles out of my grip.
“They’re basic stretches,” I point out, grinning.
“Hmph.”
“You’re pouting.”
“Hmph.”
“Acting cute won’t get you out of warm-ups.”
Mason’s face deepens further in color, and he gives me a solid push, forcing me back to my yoga mat. “What’s next?” he asks sharply. “Stretching isn’t going to make me bigger. I’d rather jump right into the weight lifting and stuff.”
I remember sounding like that a few years ago. Back when I thought curling an hour a day would make me an indestructible force of nature. “If you don’t stretch before working out, you could injure yourself. You’ll be more sore, achy, and you’ll tire out faster.” I reach out, jabbing his forehead with my index finger. “If you want to get stronger, do it the right way. I wouldn’t have been able to meet the weight requirement for that scout from Alpine University if all I’d focused on was lifting over the past year. Besides, stretchesdohelp you build strength. Squats are a staple of bulking.”
Mason scrutinizes me like he thinks I’m tricking him. Then he tries another lunge, and though he wobbles again, he manages to keep upright. “Annoying jock,” he murmurs. “Why can’t you be this competent with your schoolwork?”
