We got to the gym about an hour later, if in fact it could be called a gym. The place was tiny and dingy, like something out of a shady apartment complex, and the equipment wasn’t much better. Still, none of that mattered as much as the fact that Mike and I were together at the gym. If someone had come to me earlier in the afternoon and told me, we’d be on our way to becoming friends—and maybe more—I would’ve laughed in their face. As a matter fact, until now, I was convinced Mike wanted nothing to do with me.

The story had changed. The vulnerability in the way Mike had opened up to me about his ex changed my opinion of him. I was sure there was more to his story, more than I would ever probably learn if we continued to go to the gym together, but I wasn’t trying to rush it. It was enough for me that I had a workout buddy, someone who’d keep me motivated, and if we became friends beyond that, well, all the better for me.

Perhaps most surprisingly, I found I enjoyed Mike’s company. I would never have guessed that after I started working at Second Chances, but maybe it was inevitable. I couldn’t say that Mike felt the same way because as soon as we’d stepped through the front doors of the gym—more accurately, snuck into the gym since neither of us had a membership but Mike knew somebody who let us in—he immediately started lifting weights, no doubt trying to avoid me.

I couldn’t blame him for that. The conversation we’d at the bar was a little charged, especially given our little hand brush the night before that, which I still hadn’t figured out. It was hard to believe I’d developed some relationship with him like this, but part of me appreciated it. If nothing else, it would make my time here in town much more bearable, and it would also make the job more fun.

Still, I couldn’t help wondering what would happen when and if Jason or George found out we were seeing each other on an extracurricular basis, even if it remained platonic. But then again, could it remain platonic? It was hard to say. After the way our hands had touched the night before, I couldn’t deny I was attracted to Mike, which surprised me probably as much as it surprised him.

But he would just have to get over it. Whether he realized it or not, he was a good-looking guy, beefy and brawny in the way that only Americans are. Sure, he was older than me, probably by a good ten years or more, but that only added to the appeal for me. Watching him lift the weights, the way that his giant muscles flexed beneath them, muscles I didn’t even realize he had until now, was more than a little arousing. Thankfully, there weren’t very many other people in the gym, aside from the guy who’d let us then, and he seemed to be in his world.

“How’s it going?” I asked as I sidled up next to Mike and picked up a ten-pound weight to start doing curls.

“No pain, no gain, right?” he asked as he lifted up a dumbbell over his head, his face turning beet red as he did so.

“Yeah, something like that,” I said and left it at that as I repeatedly lifted and dropped the weight. My arm started to tingle in the best possible way, and eventually, I fell into a routine as Mike moved around to different machines. He seemed like he couldn’t sit still like he didn’t want to be anywhere near me where we would have a chance to talk or otherwise be seen as together. Still, I couldn’t help wanting to talk.

About ten minutes later, the gym was empty save for Mike and me, and I knew that was my chance, so I cornered him toward the back where he was doing leg lifts on a machine. He couldn’t get away from me while he was horizontal, so I pretended like I was spotting for him when I was just watching his massive thigh muscles flex. It was transfixing. I’d never seen legs like his before, and I couldn’t help wondering what it might be like to get between them, to have them squeeze me tight while I slipped inside of him…

Fucking gyms, they always make things sexual, don’t they? I shook my head to get it out of the gutter and cleared my throat.

“So, I won’t lie, part of the reason I asked you to come here was so we could talk some more,” I started, and he froze with his legs in midair, his face full of veins and frustration as he tried to hold the weight in place. Eventually, he let it fall to the rack and sat up to look me in the eye.

“You think I don’t know that? I might be uneducated, but I’m not a dumb ass,” he said, and I smirked at him. I liked his self-deprecating humor, the way he didn’t take himself too seriously. In fact, I envied that of him. I wished I could do the same, but it felt like no matter what I did I was always being judged because I was the child of rich parents, and my actions reflected on them as much as they reflected on me. I always had to take myself seriously, always had to watch what I did or didn’t say. It was exhausting.

“Well, then you can’t be surprised that I’m here trying to talk to you now, right?” I asked, leaning against the machine to stare down at him.

“Nope, not surprised at all,” he said. “But I don’t know what you want to talk about.”

“I want to talk about you, about us, about all this,” I said, and he eyed me, raised one eyebrow.

“What do you wanna know? I mean, I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I’m an open book, but I won’t be closed off,” he said. That was all I could ask for from somebody like him, somebody who no doubt went through their entire life all clammed up, only opening up when they were in three sheets to the wind. I knew the feeling.

“You said I remind you of your ex. I mean, I know most people don’t think favorably of their exes, so what does that say about me?” I asked, and he chuckled.

“It don’t say nothing about you other’n you kinda look like and kinda act like him,” he said.

“Act like him how? Be specific,” I said.

“What the hell is this, some quiz?” he asked.

“I was under the impression we were trying to get to know each other better, so forgive me for asking about you,” I said, feigning offense. He sighed and rolled his eyes at me.

“Oh, I see how it is, it’s all a game to you, ain’t it?” he asked as he stood from the machine and looked me straight in the eye. I had to admit; it was arousing, this big burly American man towering over me, staring so deep into my eyes to try to intimidate me. For a flash, I imagined us taking our frustrations out on each other in the shower—then I thought of what might happen if our employer found out, and it was like a bucket of cold water in my face.

“Well, I can’t say I don’t enjoy the chase,” I said and winked at him.

“Well it ain’t fair, I know it ain’t, but it’s hard to say. You just have the same sort of feel, the same sorta vibe my ex did,” he said with a shrug, finally breaking the intense stare he’d had with me, which was good because I didn’t think my hammering heart and blood pressure could take much more.

“Well we must not be too much alike because I would never throw you away,” I said, and he blanched like I’d said something offensive about his mother.

“Are you hitting on me?” he asked.

“What if I am?” I asked, and a smirk appeared on his face, complemented by the twinkle in his eyes.

“Then I’d tell ya to get your eyes examined because there ain’t nothing worth looking at here,” he said, gesturing down at his sweat-soaked body. Sure, he wasn’t going to win any bodybuilding awards, but why did he think so poorly of himself? Why was it so hard for him to believe that I, or anyone else for that matter, could find him attractive? He had a great personality, a killer smile, and seemed to be a genuinely nice guy. What was so outlandish about finding that attractive?

His self-deprecation, which I’d previously found charming, had taken on an entirely new meaning.

“Don’t say that about yourself,” I said.

“Why not? Ain’t no harm in telling the truth,” he said.

“Because it isn’t the truth. You’re good-looking, and I bet you get a hell of a lot more attention from guys than you realize or want to admit to,” I said. Including me.

“Then they all need their eyes examined too,” he said.

“I thought you said you didn’t want a pity party.”

“God dammit, I ain’t feeling sorry for myself, I’m just calling it like it is,” he snapped. “I mean, that’s what Scott did without any hesitation, so why shouldn’t I do the same thing? I’m a lumpy and dumpy hick and any guy who finds that attractive needs to get their shit checked.” Clearly, I’d touched a nerve.

A flash of sympathy coursed through me. For a moment, an infinitesimal moment, I considered reaching out and putting my arms around him, telling him it was all okay. He had an inexplicable sort of loveable quality, like an oversized teddy bear, that made me want to hug and love him in a way that I’d never felt before.

That more than anything else made me want to find this ex of his and introduce some iron to his skull. Yeah, Mike wasn’t exactly the most amiable guy, and I could see how he’d be difficult to be in a relationship with, but he had a good heart underneath all of his gruff exteriors. How could anybody talk to him like that, tell him he wasn’t good enough based solely on what he looked like?

But then again, maybe I was a hypocrite. In my old life, while I was partying it up with no regard for anything or anyone else, would somebody like him have ever have registered on my radar or would I have written them off? I wanted to believe I wouldn’t have, but I couldn’t say so honestly. In that past life, I might’ve done the same thing Scott had to Mike, and the realization killed me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bite your head off, it’s just a little bit of a sore subject,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“I didn’t mean any offense by it,” I said, and I hoped he believed me because I meant it. It wasn’t like I’d brought it up to torment him or something. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“I know you didn’t, it just fucking hurts,” he admitted and my heart sunk. Even though I’d done the amateur detective work to figure it out, it hurt me to see him hurting, and I didn’t know what to do with that. More than anything else, I felt sorry for him. I knew exactly how it felt to be written off because of the way I looked, though our experiences with that varied dramatically. Often, both because I was good-looking and rich, I was pigeonholed as stupid, cocky, and without the time of day for so-called average Joe’s. He’d probably had a similar experience, people assuming he was dumb because he was a southern American with a little extra padding.

I couldn’t explain it, couldn’t justify it, but for whatever reason, I wanted to tell him he was good enough. Maybe it was because I’d never really heard it myself, had never had anybody in my life to tell me they felt that way about me, but it was there nonetheless, burning in the pit of my stomach.

“For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t ever talk to you like that. And you know, if it means something to you, if it’ll help you get over him, I’d be happy to keep working out with you,” I said, and he looked up at me, a smirk on his face.

“You serious?” he asked.

“I am.”

“Why? You don’t owe me nothing,” he said.

“Maybe not, but it feels like the right thing to do. I’ve got my shit to make up for,” I said. He had no idea how true it was either. A few moments passed where we stared at the floor, neither of us ready to speak. “I’m sorry you had to go through that with Scott. You didn’t deserve it,” I said and the brightness of his face I’d seen before seemed to disappear almost at once.

“You ain’t gotta apologize, it ain’t your fault,” he said with a shrug. What was it with him? Why was he so incapable of accepting empathy? Maybe he’d gone through his whole life being told he wasn’t good enough for that either.

“I know I don’t, but it seems to me like no one else has, so it felt like a good opportunity both to make you feel better and to convince you I’m not as much of an asshole as you probably think I am,” I said.

“Naw, you only pretend to be an asshole. I do the same thing, but I see right through you, just like I see through most people,” he said, now smiling at me smugly.

“Oh? And what do you see?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“I see somebody who’s hurting as much as I am,” he said, and my heart stopped. Of all the things I’d expected to come out of his mouth, that was the last one.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Boy, you’re about as subtle as a hammer,” he said, and I laughed. “But maybe you ain’t half bad after all. You got a mouth on you, but Lord knows I do too.”

“What do you say we get out of here?” I asked.

“And go where?”

“I dunno, maybe your place?” I asked, my pulse thrumming in my ears. His brow furrowed like he was trying to translate my words from Swedish or something and when he finally put two and two together, his face turned so red I thought he might pass out.

“Are you, uh, askin’ what I think you’re askin’?” he asked.

“So what if I am?” I asked, and a devilish grin appeared on his face.

“This better not be some weird pity fuck type of situation,” he said.

“It isn’t. I want you,” I said and put my hand on his thigh, gave it a few soft strokes. He looked down at his leg, then back up at me, and licked his lips. I could see the desire on his face, knew he was fighting with himself about it. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what I was doing either, but it felt right, and I did want him. We’d wanted each other from the first time we’d made eye contact, and I’d known it but couldn’t admit it until now.

“Come on,” he growled and practically dragged me out of the gym.