Page 51 of For the Boys
“What?” Berkley asked. “What is it?”
“You gotta see this,” Amelia said, rolling the magazine up and tossing it across the room to Berkley. “Page thirty-three.”
Berkley swiped the magazine from where it had landed on the floor and quickly flipped to the page in question.
She gasped as she stared down at a spread of photos featuring none other than Brent Jean. In each shot, he was in the process of performing various acts of weight lifting. One picture showed him in a muscle tank and joggers, curling dumbbells, biceps bulging, sweat glistening on his arms and face. Another showed him from the side, shirtless, in a pair of running leggings, bent low in a squat with a weight-loaded barbell balanced on his shoulders. The third was of him on a treadmill mid-stride, wearing shorts and a long-sleeve top that fit snugly across his shoulders, taking a pull from a water bottle.
On the next page were shots of a woman participating in much the same activities, only modeling sports bras, leggings, women’s joggers, and long-sleeve crop tops.
The third page was a spread of the two of them posing together. In one, Brent was spotting her as she squatted, and her ass stuck out a little too close to Brent’s junk for Berkley’s comfort.
Berkley couldn’t help it. She was struck by a pang of jealousy.
“Berk?” Kimber asked. “You good?”
“Dude, did you see those pictures?” Lexie asked. “If that was my boyfriend, I certainly would not be good with him getting all hot and sweaty with a girl as hot as her.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Berkley said dumbly.
“He looks fine as hell too,” Amelia said, and Berkley snapped her head up to glare at her. Amelia put her hands up. “What? It’s true! If you didn’t already have the boy sprung, I’d be all over that.”
“Amelia!” Kimber scolded. “Wait, isn’t that Anna Hartley?”
“That explains why she looks familiar,” Amelia said. “Her soccer team has been all over the news lately.”
“Ames is right though,” Berkley said. “He looks hot. So does she. I wonder why he didn’t tell me he was modeling for this brand. FLEX? I’ve never even heard of it.”
“Me either,” Lexie said. “But I want those leggings.” She pointed at the burnt orange ones Anna was wearing.
“He probably didn’t tell you because he didn’t think it was a big deal,” Kimber pointed out. “He’s done endorsement deals before.”
“This is true,” Berkley said.
“So maybe ask him about it next time you talk to him,” Kimber said. “These photos have to be a few months old anyway. This shoot probably happened before you two even started hanging out.”
“You’re probably right,” Berkley said. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“These two do look awfully cozy though,” Lexie said, pointing to a picture of the two holding hands as they walked out of the gym, bundled up in joggers and sweaters—Brent’s a hoodie with the FLEX logo dominating the front, the girl’s a cropped crew neck with a small FLEX logo on the left side.
“Hey!” Amelia said. “That’s my gym! I actually remember the day they were closed for this shoot!”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?!” Berkley asked.
“Well, I didn’t know the specifics. Management just told us they were closed for the day.”
“It’s fine,” Berkley said. “I’m not going to get worked up about a photoshoot.”
Lexie snorted but patted Berkley on the back. “Atta girl.”
Then the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” Berkley said, then waddled down the hallway, toe separators still in place.
She opened the door to a delivery boy holding an enormous bouquet of orange tulips. “I’m looking for Berkley Daniels.”
“That’s me.” He handed her the bouquet, told her to have a nice day, and disappeared down the hallway toward the elevator.
“Who wa—” Kimber began but stopped short when she saw what Berkley was carrying.
