by Lindsay Becs
“I am. Thank you, Troy, for putting up with me and doing this. There’s no one else I’d want to do this with other than you.”
Tucking a piece of stray hair behind her ear, I step across her doorway and close the door behind me. “You can’t look at me that way and say things like that when I have to leave.”
Her little tongue peeks out, licking at the corner of her mouth. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” I chuckle, bending for a kiss. Her warm lips taste salty, and when her tongue meets mine, it’s cold from her Gatorade and tastes like fruit punch. She’s sticky and messy from sweat, and yet I think she’s the sexiest little thing just like this.
My hands go to her ass, and I begin to rub her globes. She moans into my mouth and then tips her head back. “Fuck, you really did own my ass today. You’re totally massaging it later.”
“Deal,” I agree, kissing her shoulder and licking her salty skin. Growling, I straighten. “I really do have to go.”
“Okay.”
Pecking one last kiss on her lips, I smack her sore ass, making her yell, “Ouch!” as I walk out the door.
Yeah, I’m not giving this up anytime soon.
9
Just saw three people jog outside and it inspired me to get up and close the blinds.
JUNIPER
A knock sounds on the other side of my door. “It’s open!” I yell from my couch; thankful I was smart enough to unlock it before I sat down.
The door opens, and Troy steps inside. My eyes instantly soak him in…his grey sweatpants and tight tee that stretches across all the muscles I know are underneath. His hair still looks wet, probably from a recent shower.
“How you doing, gym rat?” he asks with a smile as he turns his hat backwards.
“I don’t plan on getting up from this spot… ever. Does that answer your question?” He chuckles as he comes to sit next to me. It’s then that I notice he has a bag with him. “What’s that?”
“I brought you some stuff. Cream to help your sore muscles.”
“Oh, you are going to rub my ass. I might like this after all.”
Shaking his head, he reaches back into the canvas bag and pulls out protein bars and powder, telling me to try them as he looks judgingly at the bowl of ice cream in my lap. I pull the bowl close to me to shield it from his gaze.
“You did good today.” He knocks my knee with his. “Was it too much?”
I melt. This guy, he’s too sweet. “No, it wasn’t. I’m just a baby.”
“I was going to say drama queen, but you said baby, so we’ll go with that.”
“I hurt so bad already though. Not looking forward to tomorrow.”
“You’ll be alright.” He winks. “You’re strong and not as out of shape as you think. It helps that you jog a couple times a week with the dogs.”
“Speaking of… Bianca asked if you were joining on Sunday,” I hedge.
“If you want me to.”
“I skipped last week since, you know, you locked me in your apartment. I’d love for you to come with us. You can meet Dex then too.”
“Let’s do it.”
When Sunday rolls around, and I finally feel like my ass has forgiven me. The first episode of what we’re calling I Can Gym Too! debuted yesterday, giving me the weekend off from sports. It was weird but also kind of nice to get a break.
Troy stayed over last night, and this morning we walked to Forever Grey to meet up with Bianca, Dex and Georgina. They’re already inside and leashing up the dogs they’ve chosen to walk today when we get there.
I introduce Dex and Troy, and they seem to get along well enough in the first few minutes of meeting. Troy takes two dogs and I get Brutus, who I’m thinking about adopting, and Trigger. Setting out on the path, the guys quickly buddy up, and Bianca and I gladly jog slower behind them, giving us a chance to chat.
“Junie, that show!” Bianca starts when we’re out of earshot of the guys. “It was so good. You can tell you guys have mad chemistry even without seeing you.”
“Really?” I ask with a smile and scrunched-up nose. I mean, I hope so. We both have a lot riding on it, so hearing someone say it is nice to hear.
“Yes. I wasn’t sure how it was going to be, but you did good. It worked.”
“Connie called me this morning and said ratings were better than we expected. Now we have to keep it up. That’s always the hard part.”
“You can do it, I’m sure. You have a personality that shines through, and he plays into you just enough that it was perfection.”
“My ass will never forgive me though. It hurt so bad,” I whine.
“He definitely loves your ass,” she mumbles.
Laughing, I agree. “He does. Rubbed it real good that night and every one since.”
“Damn, to be back in that early stage when you can’t keep your hands off each other…” she sighs. “But I wouldn’t trade in Georgina for anything.”
“I hope not. Kind of late to return her,” I joke.
We finish our usual jog, and when we get back to Forever Grey, we say goodbye to the dogs and my friends.
Troy takes my hand in his as we walk back toward my place, and I love that we can walk on the busy sidewalks of the city and not care who sees us anymore.
“Bianca said the show was really great,” I tell him.
“Yeah, Dex said the same thing. He said he could hear her laughing from his office and then got sucked in listening with her.”
“That’s good, right?”
“You’re the expert, but I think so.”
My stomach growls loudly as we near one of my favorite places to eat. “Want some churros?”
“I can’t, but you can if you want,” he says with a smirk.
“Why can’t you?”
“I have to stick to a strict diet, and the closer we get to the season, the more I have to be cautious.” He pats his hand not in mine against his abs. “This body is a temple, baby. I have to treat it well.”
“What are you saying? Mine’s a shack?”
“No,” he laughs. “You’re perfect, but I have to stick to my regular diet now. No more cheats. But I’ll buy you churros if you want some,” he offers.
“You’re sweet, but I guess I’ll just settle with eating your churro,” I say, wagging my eyebrows suggestively before I laugh and a snort comes out.
Troy pulls me into his side with his arm around me. My nose goes to his chest, and even after a jog, he smells delicious. “What am I going to do with you?” he asks as we keep walking.
“Probably hurt my ass again this week.”
But as it turned out, we weren’t able to sync our schedules this week to record another show. It was back to my regular programming, and I was counting down the weeks to the end of baseball season.
Surprisingly, there aren’t many sports that play during the spring and early summer months. My options dwindle down to golf (barf!)—which I refuse to do because there are only so many things I can say about that—or baseball.
This year, for obvious reason, I’m extra excited for football. I just have to try not to show partiality to a certain team or player. But who am I kidding? I will anyway. I just wish the hockey and basketball seasons didn’t overlap with the football season as much as they do.
Troy and I are already preparing ourselves for the fact that soon we aren’t going to get to spend as much time together as we do now. Soon, I’m going to have to share him with millions of other people, and I don’t like that. Nope. Not one bit.
“How can you eat that?” I ask him as he shovels forkfuls of fish, brown rice and spinach into his mouth. Covering my nose, I add, “I can’t even handle the smell of it.”
He lifts a shoulder as he chews his healthy food. “Used to it, I guess. Been eating the same planned-out meals for years. Today is fish, just like tomorrow is chicken, and the day after I get to load up on carbs and eat pasta.”
“Don’t you get bored always eating the same things over and over?
”
“It’s just food to fuel my body and recharge for the next day.”
“We might have to break up,” I tell him, horrified at what he just confessed to me.
The corner of his mouth curls up. “Why’s that?”
“Because food is more than gasoline for your body, Troy. Food is… better than sex.”
“Whoa! Better than sex?” He sounds offended and looks annoyed.
“Okay, maybe not better than sex with you, but it’s pretty high up there. How can you care so little about what you eat? Do you not have taste buds?”
“I enjoy the taste of you,” he says with a widening smile, looking proud of himself from where he sits on the opposite side of the couch from me.
I roll my eyes. “Still not food, babe.”
“Should be,” he grumbles as he scoops the last of his nasty meal into his mouth, letting out an exaggerated moan at how good it tastes. I respond with a fake gag. “You’re so dramatic. You done with your two-thousand-calorie plate of alfredo?”
“Stop judging me!”
“I’m not,” he laughs when I lick my fork clean before handing over my empty plate, which looks like I also licked clean. “You know I love your body, your curves, your ass. You eat what you want. I’m not here to change you. I’m only telling you why I eat the way I do. Don’t like my body the way it is?” he asks as he carries our dishes to the kitchen.
“That is an entirely different question from what I asked before and highly unfair,” I try to justify.
“So, that’s a yes,” he says, walking back in to resume his spot on the couch. “To keep my body looking like this, and my energy and stamina up for practice and playing, and my other favorite activities”—he pauses to give me a look to drive home his point—“I have to keep a strict diet just like I do with my workouts and training. It all goes together to make me the best player on the field. It’s not high school ball anymore. It’s pros, and everything matters and counts.”
“I’m pretty sure you could lie on the couch and eat nothing but candy for a month and still look like you do.”
“Whatever,” he mumbles, pulling me into his lap so I’m straddling his legs. “I mean it; don’t change this ass.”
“Then stop making me do squats,” I whine, throwing my head back.
Today we did another show together, and again, he tried to kill me at the gym.
“Never. I like watching you do them too much,” he says as he grips my ass cheeks.
Sliding my hands up his naked torso, I ask, “When do I get to come watch you?”
“You’d probably get bored.”
“Are you kidding me? A room full of near-naked men flexing all their muscles? I think I’d be alright.”
“Well, now you’re definitely not coming to the gym with me.”
“You’re the only one I care about though,” I try to smooth over.
“Oh, now I am. Good to know where I stand in your little fantasies.”
“I do not have gym fantasies!” I try to defend myself.
“I can tell by the way you just got all squeaky and your cheeks are turning red that you do.”
“Damn body has turned against me once again,” I grumble, making him laugh.
“This damn body has turned me on once again,” he says as he pushes up his hips.
Bending forward, I kiss him. “So cheesy and yet it still worked.”
10
I just saw some idiot at the gym put a water bottle in the Pringles holder on the treadmill.
TROY
I chuckle to myself as I run on the treadmill, taking my water bottle from its holder for a drink. It reminds me of the last time Juniper and I did a show. I had her concentrate on cardio, but not before she showed up with an iced coffee and tried to sip it instead of water while I built up her speed. She almost puked. Almost.
Instead, she stepped off, heaving in breaths as she tried to curse me, lifting her middle finger in lieu of words she couldn’t manage. Chuckling, I rubbed her back until she could catch her breath. Tears has shown in her eyes when she stood up, making me feel bad for pushing so hard. I hugged her tight and whispered an apology to her before we continued on with our show, her putting on her façade as we did.
When the mics came off, I rushed to her and apologized again for pushing her so much. She shoved me and told me I had shown her my full assholenicity. Laughing at her made-up word, I asked her what it meant. She told me it was the natural state of being an asshole that all men were born with. I couldn’t deny it in that moment, so I accepted her name calling and promised to make it up to her later.
“What are you smiling at over there?” Dante asks from where he is doing resistance exercises in front of the treadmill I’m on.
Shaking my head, I say, “Juniper,” with my smile staying in place. With her in my life, I don’t mind smiling openly anymore. I don’t even mind my nickname as much with her being the reason they show so much these days.
“Caught your show the other day,” he says with a low laugh.
“Which one?”
He laughs a little harder before telling me. “You were making her lift weights, and she was acting like she was raising Thor’s hammer. Laura about pissed her pants.”
Matching his laughter remembering that day, I tell him, “Yeah, she said it helped her to pretend she had god-like muscles to get through weight training. She had five-pound weights, bro. This girl is…” I trail off, smiling bigger as I think about her.
“Wow. Look at you getting all heart-eyed over there,” he teases.
“Yeah…” I muse, as the treadmill comes to a stop. I grab my sweat towel, rubbing it across the back of my neck. “I really like this girl. She’s so different from anyone I’ve ever dated before. Hell, met before.”
“That’s good, man.”
“She’s so fucking funny, making me laugh all the time. But she doesn’t put up with shit either. She’s this perfect combination of feisty and fun and sexy as hell.”
“Sounds to me you more than like her,” he tells me with a look that says he knows something I don’t.
“This how it was for you and Laura?” I ask him, curious of his relationship with his wife and how they got started.
He thinks for a minute before he answers. “Sort of. We were always thrown into the same crowd of people and always seemed to gravitate toward each other. We’d bullshit around and she’d give me crap all the time about being a player and shit, but I loved it because she was the first girl to not seem to drop to her knees at the sight of me.”
I snort a laugh at his cocky statement, and yet I know exactly what he means. When you’re an athlete, and a good one at that, the jersey chasers come at you from all different directions. It’s embarrassing, and I mean for them more than me. Sure, when you’re young, it’s not all bad, but then it gets to be downright annoying.
“We just clicked,” he continues with a goofy smile on his face as he thinks about his wife. “We’ve been partners through a lot of shit. We have full trust and respect in each other, which has helped us through the media side of this life. She’s tough but knows when she needs to put her claws away too. I just came to realize I didn’t want any other chick I was around. And when she wasn’t around, she was all I thought about. I put a ring on it soon after that epiphany. You know the rest. She’s my best friend, man.”
“I’m wounded,” I say, putting a hand to my chest. “I thought I was your best friend.”
“Nah, man, you’re like my little brother,” he jests, coming up behind me and giving me a noogie.
We wrestle around for a few minutes in fun before we break apart. “I’m happy you got a real reason for that smile now, Mister Dimples,” he teases before walking toward the locker room.
“You always take Brutus,” Suzette from Forever Grey says to Juniper. “We do have other dogs that need to be exercised too, you know.”
“And that’s why I bring friends,” Juniper replies, not caring that she’s partial
to the dog.
“Well, today you only have one friend with you,” Suzette counters.
“Not my fault the baby got sick. Have some compassion, Suzette,” my girl admonishes with humor in her voice toward the volunteer.
Suzette’s lips hitch up in the corners as she fights back a smile, not wanting to give in. I know the feeling.
Once we exit the building and head out toward the park with our four leashed greyhounds, I glance toward Juniper and notice a look of serene happiness across her face. These dogs do seem to give her a sense of relaxation, which is good to see. I can’t say I haven’t become fond of them or this new usual Sunday venture either.
“Why don’t you adopt him? Brutus,” I clarify when she looks at me in question.
“My apartment is small, and some days I’m gone for long hours. I’d feel bad leaving him cooped up for so long.”
We continue our jog with the pups through the park. In the back of my mind, I think about how sad she looked when I asked her about adopting a dog. I can tell she wants to. Understanding why she hasn’t yet makes me think more on it.
There are always dog walkers for hire, especially in the city. It’s not like she has to give the dog a dozen hour-long walks in a day. If she walked the dog twice a day herself and hired someone for midday, I don’t see why it wouldn’t work out for her. It’s totally doable.
When we return to Forever Grey, I turn to Juniper and tell her I need to do something real quick before I meet her at her place. She gives me an annoyed expression but says bye, giving me a kiss before she goes.
Once she’s out of sight, I turn back to Forever Grey. “Forget something?” Suzette asks when she looks up to see it’s me again.
“How much longer until Brutus goes to the farm? He’s been here awhile, hasn’t he?” I ask.
“Let me look,” she says, going to the computer on the counter. She types and clicks and looks for a minute as she hums and I get impatient. “You’re right; he has been here a while. We usually move them to the farm after six months. Looks like it’s been about five since he came to us.”
