“Nothing, just stick with it. Maybe you could give me some pointers?”
“Oh, please, you so don’t need that. You’ve got, like, abs and stuff. You’re doing fine on your own.”
He stretches out, so his arm is behind me. “Thanks, man. They finally came in, I’m so happy.”
I stare down at the water.Crotch, behave.
But now he’s inches away from me, and we’re talking about our bodies. It’s like he’s trying to get a rise out of me.
“How about you?” I ask.
“Well, I play baseball, obviously, which is great cardio, and I work for my uncle as a mover. Since I’ve been doing that, it just sort of happened. Seriously, moving couches is one hell of a workout.”
I look. His abs really are defined. They look shiny right now, because of the sunscreen.
Or maybe he’s starting to sweat.
He smiles and leans a little closer. “I’m totally lying. It was a lot of work. I do this YouTube ab workout, like, every day, and I track my calories. Abs are made in the kitchen, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. And they don’t show all the time; I worked out this morning because I thought we might hit the pool.”
So he prepared. I guess maybe he’d wanted to be impressive. And he is. But still.
“Your shoulders are nice,” he says, glancing at me. “So’s your back.”
“Um, thanks. So are yours.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“Speaking of,” he says. “Can I ask you something deep?”
“Anytime.”
“Are you happy with your body?”
“What makes you ask?”
“What you said before. Do you really have body-image issues? We can talk about them, if you want.”
“Um. Maybe I do? For the most part I’m happy, I guess.”
“Why just for the most part?”
“I know I don’t look like the standard definition of hot for a gay guy.” I show him my arms. “I’m so twiggy.”
“You’re not twiggy. Look at me, dude, you’re not. You’ve got nice arms, and I’d kill for your frame. You’re kind of a twink, actually.”
“Fuck you, I’m not a twink.”
I can tell from his grin he’s messing with me.
“Yeah you are.”
“Shut up, bear.”
“Excuse me, do I look big and hairy to you?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re an asshole!”