Page 15 of Hello Forever
After some stretching, I found a vacant leg press and loaded it up with plates. Sliding onto the seat, I tightened my abs and pushed. The foot-piece moved with the ease of a well-maintained machine, which was how I felt, too. Exercise was like therapy. A good workout always clearedmyhead.
I was three sets in when, in my peripheral vision, an attractive set of back muscles clenched as some fabulous creature pressed a bar over his head. I wasn’t there to stare at guys, but what I saw pulled me in. Sandy-brown hair. Broad shoulders. Gorgeous biceps tensed against the sleeves of his T-shirt.Yum. There was something very familiar about his stance, so I turned my chin for abetterlook.
My heart lurched when I realized who I was lookingat.Cax.
I turned away again to try to get a grip on myself. I wanted to talk to him so badly. But after the basketball game, he’d disappeared immediately—a bad sign. Then again, I’d probably given him ashock.
I’d spent the last week wondering what kind of a life he was living now. He’d been at the game with a woman. His wife, maybe? Kids had been seated with him, too—but they were too old to behiskids.
I’d been turning this over and over in my mind. Maybe our time together had only been experimentation for him. Perhaps he was a straight, married man who didn’t want any kind of reminder that he’d once hooked up with a dude, even if we’d been kids ourselves atthetime.
But even if that’s how things were, I still wanted to say hello. I’d never embarrass him with tales of our teenage years. Maybe I needed a chance tosaythat.
With a tilt of my chin, I looked in his direction again. And caught himwatchingme.
Here goesnothing.
I slid off the leg press, gave it a quick wipe with my towel, and headed across the weightlifting area to where he stood near the squat rack. His eyes widened as I approached. He lookedfearful.
Shit.
“Hi,” I said in afriendlytone.
He hesitated for abeat. “Hi.”
We stared at each other for a second. “Look,” I said. “I know it’s weird. But this is a really small town. I justmovedhere.”
His gaze dropped to thefloor.
Jeez. I talked fast so I wouldn’t chicken out. “I don’t have any idea what you’re thinking. But we have two choices. We can pretend we were never childhood friends. Or we can go out for a beer and catch up. It doesn’t have to be abigdeal.”
When he raised his eyes to mine again, there was so much panic there that my heart gave a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he saidsoftly.
“For what?” Was he trying to tell me that we couldn’t even have a beer together?Really?
“For, uh…” He looked over both shoulders, as if he were checking for eavesdroppers. And I had to hold in my sigh. “I guess we do need to catch up on a fewthings.”
“Okay. How about Bruisers? It’s the only bar I’ve been to yet.” Boz had taken me there the other night, and I’d found it to be a laid-backsportsbar.
He licked his lips nervously, drawing my attention to his mouth. “I don’t… I’m not sure Bruisers is agoodidea.”
Ouch. My old friend was either paranoid or embarrassed to be seen with me. He couldn’t be seen having a drink with a potentially gay man? Yikes. I felt a little surge of anger. My next suggestion flew out before I had time to think about it. I’m pretty sure I made it just to challenge him. “Okay. My place then? Tomorrow night?Seven?”
He swallowed hard. “Whereisthat?”
Honestly, I hadn’t expected him to take me up on the offer, and it was possible he didn’t plan to follow through. He might blow me off. “I live at the end of Newbury Street just as it dead-ends into the park. The house is an old white one with a wrap-around porch. You can’t miss it. But I live in the apartment over thegarage.”
“Okay,” heagreed.
“If you need my number, I’m in the employee directory. Athleticdepartment.”
He nodded. “I’llfindyou.”
I really hoped he would. And wasn’t that pathetic? “Actually, come hungry tomorrow—I’ll make dinner. You bring a bottle of whatever you like todrink.”
“Good plan.Iwill.”
I didn’t know whether Cax drank or not. There were so many things I didn’t know about him. I wondered if that would change. “See you tomorrow atseven.”
