"How old is she now?"
"Fifteen. It's a challenge having a teenager, but I like our relationship. She's old enough to have a semiadult conversation and young enough that she doesn't feel embarrassed to talk to me. I know our relationship will change soon, and she'll stop walking next to me in the mall and start wanting to pretend I'm not there when her friends are around, but for now it's great."
Tristan seemed so happy talking about his daughter. I think his voice was even more soothing now than when he made small talk. Saying my name had given me chills, but his relaxed tone made my anxiety lessen. I bet I could plop down on my stool and listen to him go on for hours about Claire. He had such a lovely voice. I sighed to myself.
"She sounds great." No ring-he was probably a single dad. That had to be tough, but at least he liked his kid.
He looked at me. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to bore you."
"You're not. I like kids. Maybe one day I'll have my own." If I adopt or find a surrogate. "Feel free to talk about her anytime. I like how relaxed you are right now."
His eye twitched. He regarded me softly, and slowly lifted the corner of his mouth. "I will. I'll have to find a current picture and show you. If Claire knew I'd shown you this one, she'd probably die."
I snickered. "That sounds like a teenage girl." I didn't know that much about teenage girls, but the comment fit the topic. I went with it. "Don't forget these." I handed him his deposit receipts. "I guess I'll see you another day."
He nodded. "I guess so. Do you have big plans for the weekend?"
"I'm going to finish painting my kitchen, and I was thinking of joining a gym." I replied so casually I almost didn't recognize myself. Knowing he was straight made me loosen up, I guessed. Why be tense and awkward when there was no prospect of something beyond friendship? He was just a guy I could talk to. I can. I can really talk to this guy. The revelation was freeing.
His expression brightened. "A gym, really?"
His question irked me for no reason. "Yes, I can join a gym. I might not be built like you, but I can lift weights the same as any guy."
He was taken aback. "I didn't mean anything by it, Grant. I was merely surprised, but in a good way, I assure you. We have that in common. I go to a gym myself. I find it relaxing. It's nice not having to think about anything. A good hard sweat is cleansing for the body."
I'd upset him, and that didn't go over well with my need to hear his soothing voice. His apologetic voice made me feel bad for jumping to conclusions. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm used to people giving me a hard time about everything. Ever since I came out, it's felt like an uphill battle."
His eye twitched again. "Came out? As in … out of the closet?"
My synapses misfired. "Huh, what?" I blinked.
"You just said ‘since you came out,' and I wondered if you meant you're gay."
Panic, shock, nerves frazzling. He'd made me feel so comfortable chitchatting that I'd come out inadvertently. Oh, shit. I glanced over at Jessica, only she wasn't at her station. She was twenty feet away talking to Tracy by her office door.
I looked the other way, and Tristan said, "No one heard you, Grant. You're fine."
I heaved a sigh. "Oh, good." I swallowed. Two more breaths and I felt calmer. "It's not like I've hidden being gay, but saying it out loud to someone I barely know-no offense-freaked me out a little."
"A little?" he chuckled. "You all but panicked. You turned white as a sheet."
I should have gotten angry with him for making fun of me, but I just couldn't. Something in his tone and his smile overrode that option. "Thanks," I said sarcastically. Then I chuckled. Tristan really did make me feel calm. I liked him, and not just in a wet dream sort of way. He was nice. It was better that he was straight and we only saw each other for ten minutes a week at the bank. In time, maybe he'd be as good a friend as Mel. Most likely he lived close, and it was healthy for me to have more friends who weren't my mother.
"Anytime," he said, grinning. "Have a good weekend, Grant. I'll probably see you Monday." This time when he winked as he walked off, I didn't take it to mean anything untoward. He was simply a friendly guy who apparently had no qualms about my sexuality.
Yeah, he'd make a nice friend.
Chapter 3: The Gym, My Fears, And Making Friends With A Straight Guy
I'D CHECKED out a few gyms in my area, but none of them had suited me. I was looking for a family environment: A place where I could display my weaknesses. A place where I would not be judged. I wanted machines and free weights, but not the commercialized chain gym that advertised bodybuilders and muscle-bound freak shows. My body didn't need assistance to feel inadequate. If I could find a place where overweight housewives and scrawny guys like me went, then I'd be happy.
The Westminster Family Center was my next stop of the day.
As soon as I walked up to the counter, a mother and her teenage daughter came out with gym bags on their shoulders and freshly washed hair. I assumed the relation because they looked very similar, and their hair was too wet to be from sweat. Their presence in this gym, though, made me think I'd found the right place. I inquired at the counter about membership details and asked for a tour. The tour did the trick.
All the same equipment as those bigger gyms, but only a few of each machine-not twelve treadmills lined up next to sixteen stationary bikes. The walls weren't even lined with mirrors. Only one wall had mirrors, so if I didn't want to see how bad my form was I didn't have to look. This place was heaven.
I filled out the paperwork, scanned my nifty card, and entered my new gym.
Of course, I didn't actually know how to use most of the machines. I felt slightly stupid looking at the pins and weights and levers, but not stupid enough to ask for help. I thought I'd give it a little time. Maybe by watching other people I'd be able to suss it out. I managed the treadmill for twenty minutes. That wasn't bad. I figured the next time I'd bring my iPod so I'd be entertained while I walked.
When I moved over to the ab machine and took too long studying the diagram on how to adjust the weights, I heard a familiar voice ask if I needed help. I turned and got the shock of my life. "Tristan?"
"Grant! Wow, what a surprise." He lost his brief elation when I didn't answer back. "Grant? Did you hear me?" he asked, waving his hands in front of my face.
I was having one of those out-of-body experiences where I could see myself immobile and blankly catatonic. I knew I was staring, but no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't blink for several seconds.
When I found my ability to respond, I apologized, "I'm sorry."
"I didn't mean to creep on you or anything. I saw you fiddling with the machine, and I thought I could help. I didn't realize it was you until you turned around. I swear."
"W-what are you doing here?" Because I couldn't manage a hello. I'd had another supersexy dream about him again last night and figured it would take a while for my brain to catch up to the notion we were just friends. Mere friends didn't daydream and jack off in the shower thinking about their other friends. That was probably frowned upon. Friends also didn't drool over what could be under their friend's coveralls during the day, and then practically groan aloud when they could see their imagination had greatly underestimated. Unfortunately, I was that friend, as the object of my fantasies stood in front of me wearing shorts and a loose tank top.
Oh, holy fuck. How do I look him in the eyes now, when I can see the hair on his chest and all I want to do is touch him?
He smirked. Apparently he thought I was amusing and not at all rude. Good. He explained, "I told you I go to a gym. I go to this gym."
"Oh."
He squinted his eyes slightly. "Grant, if my being here bothers you, I can go back to doing flies and pretend I didn't see you. I know it's weird running into people you're used to seeing in a different context. The first time I saw my accountant here with some friends playing basketball, I swear my chin hit the floor. I'd never seen him in anything but a suit. I promise you, this is a coincidence. I'm not stalking you. You can ask the front desk. I'm here every Saturday at nine, and usually two mornings a week."
"But … w-why don't you go to Gold's Gym or something? Why here?" I was still in shock. I should have stood and politely shaken his hand or something. I should have at least said hello and thanked him for asking to help me. But nooo. My mouth went dry, and I felt trapped. If Tristan went to this gym, then I'd have to go on different days or reconsider my membership. I wasn't ready to see him dressed so casually and not get hard. All the muscles I could see were huge, and my natural inclination to run my fingers over them was stronger than my willpower to make my hard-on stand down. I didn't know how to be polite in the face of someone who fit all my criteria for the perfect man. Life was so fucking unfair!