Gunner backed off, and when Caspian dared to have a peek at the room, desperate for a way out, he saw that his tormentor was glaring at his crotch in silence. It was hard to say whether Gunner was about to kick someone’s teeth out, or if this was his neutral expression.
Todd tut-tutted in mockery. “Dunno. About what I expected. Guess his ass gets all the action anyway.”
Caspian shivered. He didn’t know whether it was out of fear, anger, or disgust, but the cause didn't matter either, because he could do nothing against such brute strength. People like those guys deserved to die. They did not belong in society. They should be fucking shot or shipped off to some deserted island where they’d fight for dominance among themselves without bothering decent people.
If only he had Gunner’s physique, he’d have broken all their noses and teeth, but he was nothing like Gunner. Small, frail, and weak, with a cock those gorillas felt nothing but contempt for, he was a sad excuse for a male.
Angry and proud, but with no physical presence to back it up. A top without the kind of tool his potential partner wanted.
“Get lost,” Todd said, hauling Caspian forward hard enough that he smashed into Gunner with his pants still pooled at his ankles. The mountain of muscle didn’t even budge, still damp from the shower and mocking him with the size of his pecs.
Caspian croaked an unnecessary goodbye and shuffled forward, stunned like a pig before slaughter. Heat ate him up as he continued toward the exit because he was too afraid to bend over and pull up his bottoms with those three watching.
A friend had once told him there was nothing to be afraid of. That everyone did their own thing at the gym, and nobody would pay any mind to the size of his body, but clearly that wasn’t the case. Not in Grit, Ohio, where high school bullies never grew out of their shitty personas.
He was able to breathe again once he stepped between the two sets of doors dividing the locker room from the reception area and only then pulled up his pants.
He would never come back here.
Worse yet, he needed to leave town. He could never face Gunner, Todd, or Bud again after this.
He went outside, struggling for air when his windpipe suddenly became tighter, but he couldn’t break down in front of all the strangers enjoying their favorite pastime. He didn’t want them to hold back laughter and pat him on the back. He didn’t want to answer any questions or lie to reassure them that nothing was wrong. And besides, the three brutes might come out any moment and tell everyone what happened.
And then, he’d die.
Like a zombie on the lookout for fresh meat, Caspian staggered along the building, far from the bright glow of the lamps. By the time he scooted down and leaned against the rough wall that smelled of piss, his body was warning him of impending doom, but this wasn’t the first time he’d been close to a panic attack, so he tried to focus and breathed in.
Then out.
Breathed in.
Then out.
The rattle of metal startled him so much he opened his eyes wide and instinctively held his arm up for protection.
But while he’d expected a punch, a long, warm tongue licked his elbow instead, and a dog with an uncanny resemblance to a dingo stared at him with its ears up.
The rattle had been made by a shopping cart pushed by an elderly woman with a shock of pink hair tangled up on her head like a neon pretzel.
“Mad Madge,” Caspian said, naming the town’s most known eccentric without thinking. When the horror of what he’d just done occurred to him, he shot to his feet, the panic attack replaced by yet more shame. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I thought you were… someone else,” he finished, staring at the large, round blots of rouge coloring her cheeks. They were dark enough to stand out against her skin even in the dark.
“Oh, yes, my sister, she’s a right old wacko,” Madge laughed and adjusted the glittery, heart-shaped glasses that were part of her unforgettable look. She rattled her cart closer and presented Caspian with a jar. “Can you help open it for me, sweetheart?”
That was it. The universe was mocking him.
But it wasn’t like he could refuse help to an older lady, whom he’d called mad to her face. So he tightened his hands on the jar and tried to twist off the lid. To no avail.
He really was a loser.
A sob left his lips, and he pulled the glass container to his chest, unable to keep tears in once they started flowing. He gave up and sank to his knees.
The dog barked, and when it stepped closer to lick Caspian’s face, he didn’t fight it. He couldn’t believe what had happened to him at the gym, and worst of all, that no matter how much he hated Gunner for what he’d done, admiration remained so tightly entangled with the disgust he felt.