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It was dumb luck finding a brand new, still-in-the-box weight bench in the spare room closet. I went in there to ride the bike this morning, but I didn’t want to miss a potential sighting—or date as I’ve taken to calling them in my mind—with Sadie, the hot, mysterious, and hilariously funny neighbor. When I was scanning the space, I found an entire set of weights stacked in the corner with a blanket tossed over them.
I shake my head, lift two forty-five pounders, and bring them outside. “Poor Jake,” I mumble, thinking of my friend working abroad.
Bastard is always working his ass off. Going from saving one human to the next. Part of me thinks he does it so he doesn’t have to save himself. Losing his sister the way he did—in a water rafting trip when we were just teenagers—changed him. After her death, he set his mind to becoming a doctor and saving the world. Only who was saving Jake? Definitely not a beautiful woman who could warm his bed, support his career, and love him for the great guy he is.
Maybe Sadie has a friend?
Shit, maybe Sadie has already seen my good-looking friend Jake naked?
Fucking hell. Maybe they’ve dated!
Once I set down the weights and head inside for the others, I pull my cell phone from my loose workout shorts and bring up the text messages. Not being one for math, I don’t attempt to figure out what time it is in Africa. If I knew the time difference, I would have called his ass immediately.
From: Evan
To: Jake
You ever date your neighbor Sadie?
I read the short message over and over before hitting send, praying they’ve never dated and most certainly have never seen one another naked. I grind my teeth at the mere thought of another man seeing her bare flesh.
He better not have. Bro-code means I can’t go there if he has, and after yesterday, I’m definitely interested in going there. Repeatedly.
Lifting the rest of the weights, I head outside. Once I’m on the balcony and the gear is set up, I remove my white T-shirt and work out. I start off with the dumbbells and do a series of arm curls before switching to a crossbody hammer curl. Next, I stretch my arms out to the sides and lift the weights in a dumbbell deadlift maneuver. Once those are complete, I lunge holding the fifteen pounders in each hand. Then it’s all about the squats.
By this time, I’m sweating profusely. It’s a good forty minutes into my workout and still no sighting of Sadie. A wave of sadness has me sitting on the bench which I strategically placed so I’d face her home, so I’d see her the moment she came out. Since when do I get emotional about a girl I barely know? Since they put us in lockdown, I guess. The TV only offers a little comfort and companionship. But even porn gets boring after a while. Not that I’ve been in the mood for it lately. Too much shit on my mind.
Lying down, I lift the dumbbells and do my standard bench press with smaller weights before taking a break to jog in place. I need mindless activity, focusing on my breath and the view. Getting antsy for Sadie, I jog around the weight bench in a circle and then reverse it, checking her balcony every lap.
Nothing.
I know she’s there. Why isn’t she coming out? She could wave, say hello…something. Maybe she didn’t have as much fun drinking and shooting the shit as I did yesterday. I thought we hit it off. But perhaps I’m imagining things. Damn.
Grinding to a halt, I suck in large breaths of clean, crisp, ocean air until my heart calms down.
Why do I care anyway if she comes out? It’s not like I need her to be entertained. I’ve done this workout a thousand times before. Granted it’s usually in a huge workout space with my buddies around me. Speaking of which… None of them have even attempted to call me.
What the fuck kind of brotherhood is that?
My mood hits the pits. I pull my phone back out and rest my ass on the bench.
First call I make is to Robby, the happiest guy on the team. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Always smiling, never down. He’s the guy on the team everyone uses as their personal therapist because he’s so even-keeled.
He answers on the first ring. “What?” He answers with fire in his tone, something I’ve never heard in the few years I’ve known him.
“Hey, Robby. It’s Sparks. Just wanted to check in on the team, man. Take the temperature, you know?”
A solid twenty seconds of silence fills my ears before he eventually says, “I can’t fucking believe you. ’Roids? What were you thinking?”
“Excuse me? No, Robby, I didn’t do—”
