Page 48 of Muscle Cub

“Well, the lumberjacks from camp have all promised to come.” He paused, waiting for me to say something. “You don’t have to be a member or even pay anything. Just tell the front desk you’re my guest.” His voice went soft. “I really want to see you.”

Well, that did the trick.

I tried to think of a scenario where I could see him under less potentially mortifying circumstances, like grabbing a beer afterward or meeting for dinner, but I didn’t want to risk saying no to the class and then find out he already had other plans. How many more Wednesdays might go by before I got another chance?

“Okay,” I said.

“Really? You’ll come? Oh my God. Thank you so much! You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Would you like me to see if Eric and Ben can come too? I mean, I know Eric has a membership there, and if you need more people…”

“Yes! That’d be amazing.”

“I’ll ask them.”

“Fantastic! I’ll bring Dorothy and Glinda.”

“Who?”

He laughed. “Your shoes. I named them.” He dropped his voice. “I’m wearing them right now.”

A week ago, I would never have believed a guy commandeering my shittiest pair of sneakers and naming them after queer movie icons could make my dick stir, but—fuck. Austin had an unnerving ability to be ridiculous and sexy at the same time.

“I’ve been wearing them constantly,” he said. “Ever since the morning after.”

I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the Morning-After Drill or the morning after being with me, but either way, it rendered me speechless. I grunted a wordless curse.

He chuckled. “You don’t need them to work out, do you?”

“No, no.” Other than camping, I couldn’t have imagined wearing those ratty things in public. “I have some new ones,” I lied. I’d had no occasion to buy sneakers in a long time, but Austin didn’t need to know that.

I heard another faint voice on his side of the line.

“What?” Austin said to whomever it was.

There was a pause while the other person spoke again, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“We’re only two weeks into the season, bro.” Austin’s voice was too loud to have been talking to me. “Nobody’s that big of a ho.” He apologized to me, and said, “Some jackhole just asked me if the number on my arm—your phone number—was a tally.”

“Who was it?”

“Ryan.” He spat the name with a mixture of fondness and fake disgust. “I’m right behind you,” he yelled to Ryan. To me, he said, “Sorry, Prof. I gotta run. But I’ll text you the details, and… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

I group-texted Eric and Ben to see if they were available.

Ben sent a thumbs-up emoji.

Eric replied, Unfortunately, I have to work, but TELL ME ABOUT AUSTIN!

I’ll only be sharing those details with those who attend the class with me.

Eric sent a wow face and a middle finger emoji. It’s not like I don’t have ways of getting Ben to talk.

Fine. I’ll tell you over lunch tomorrow if you go shopping with me.

Makeover!