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I shake my head. Lean in to whisper. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yeah." He steps back. Moves to Dean's suite.
The blue-eyed tattoo artist is sitting in his chair, scribbling in a sketchbook. He looks up at us with a disaffected expression. "Yeah?"
"It's back and biceps day," Walker says.
Dean looks from Walker to me then back to Walker. "And?"
"You and Iris are coming with me," Walker says.
"Told you. I don't do threesomes anymore," Dean deadpans.
"Cute." Walker shakes his head. "You're right. I've been M.I.A. Not anymore."
Dean taps his pen against his sketchbook.
"From now on, our routine is my fucking religion." Walker runs his hand through his hair. "And I'm gonna keep you in the loop about Bree." Walker looks from me to his best friend. "I want you to know Iris. 'Cause she's gonna be around."
I swallow hard.
Dean looks up at me. "Is this gonna be a regular thing now?"
"No. I hate lifting weights." I press my lips together. "Just… well, you've been an asshole."
He nods fair enough.
"But I do want us to be friendly." I tug on my zipper. "I don't want to steal your best friend."
Dean shrugs you're ridiculous, but there's relief in his blue eyes.
Walker nods to the door. "Come on. Get dressed. We'll see who can do the bigger curl."
Dean pushes himself to his feet. He motions to the sidewalk.
Walker shakes his head really?
Dean nods really.
"At the gym," Walker says.
Dean chuckles. "Done."
* * *
This is a rich people gym.
It's ridiculous. The sunset streams through the wide windows, falling over rows of pristine ellipticals, treadmills, and stationary bikes.
The weight section occupies the other half of the room. It's all mirrors and adjustable benches and guys grunting through sets.
It's way beyond my level.
Walker nods to the guy at the counter. "My girlfriend wants to try the place out."
The guy waves me through cool.
We move into the gym. Dean motions to the empty mats in the weight section.
