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“We’ll start with some stretches so you don’t seize up.”
Alex noticed a few of the other patrons watching Dorian as he led him over to a corner laid out with mats. He wasn’t sure if they recognised him or were enjoying the view because Dorian in shorts and a tank top was a fine distraction.
Dorian did a number of stretches reminiscent of some of the positions fromThe Escort,and when he bent forwards Alex had to turn away and take a long drink of his water. His heart racing in a very different way from their barely-there kiss on the beach.
Regaining his composure, he mirrored Dorian’s movements but had only a fraction of his flexibility, already feeling his muscles protesting. His general view on exercise was if other people were to succumb to the affliction then they were welcome to it, but he was of a firm opinion that, as long as he could run for the bus without keeling over, then that was sufficient. He should not have accepted Dorian’s offer no matter how nice the gym was.
Alex groaned as he tried to do a seated hamstring stretch and collapsed backwards onto the mat. “You carry on. I will wait for you here.”
“No. Get up.” Dorian held out his hand. “Honestly, Alex it’ll do you the world of good.”
“It will kill me.” But he accepted Dorian’s hand and let him pull him to his feet.
“You don’t have to do what I do—in fact, it’s probably better that you don’t because that might finish you off.”
“Maybe I should start by watching. Make sure I have the right technique.”
Dorian shook his head. “Go sit on a bike while I do my short cardio routine.”
“How long?”
“Forty minutes.”
“Forty! How’s that a short routine?”
Dorian tutted. “Young sloth.”
With a gentle push, Dorian encouraged him towards the equipment, half of which scared the living daylights out of him.
“Most of those should be outlawed under the Geneva Convention.”
“Nonsense—masochism doesn’t count.”
He claimed the nearest unoccupied recumbent bike, ignoring Dorian muttering about how he could have at least picked an upright, and selected a podcast to listen to. The bike was set to medium resistance and he soon changed it to the minimum. Dorian was on a treadmill and, thanks to the mirror placement, Alex had a great view of him, a bit too good really and he was relieved that twenty minutes later Dorian changed to a cross-trainer and most of his view was obscured, so much so he didn’t notice Dorian had finished until the bastard was behind him, yanking out one of his earphones.
“Did you even break a sweat?”
“Since when was that part of the deal?” He got off the bike and towelled it down, more for gym etiquette than removing the sweat, as there was none to remove. “Are we done?”
“No, free weights and cool down, not that you’ve warmed up.”
“I’mnotlifting weights.”
“Just a few light ones, I’ll make sure you don’t hurt yourself and you can spot for me. We not going to go too heavy, I’m not in proper training.”
“Only a couple of tons.”
“Fifty kilos max. I reckon. Just enough to wake up a few big muscle groups, and I can start building back up over a few weeks.” He took a long drink of water. “I’ll look into seeing if they’ve a personal trainer. My old one’s in LA.”
“They’re not going to be able to teach you much.”
“Not about teaching, it’s about discipline.”
“If you wanted bossing about you only had to ask.” He motioned to the weights area. “Chop, chop, go lift heavy stuff.”
Dorian opened and closed his mouth and Alex shooed him away. “Go on, Dorian. Those bits of metal on poles won’t lift themselves.”
He yelped as Dorian grabbed him by the arm and dragged him with him. “You’re such a brat.”
