Jerk

The cutest smile spills over his face. “You’re right about that, Romeo.” He pokes his head through a door leading into a back room, where I hear the hum of laundry machines. “Hey, Desiree? Can you get some more towels? We’re out. Thanks.” He lets the door shut, then eyes me. “My boyfriend should be thankful our laundry machines are up and running this week at all, otherwise we’d have no towel service. Last Thursday, I swear the dryer was possessed.”

“Your boyfriend seems …” I suddenly realize I can’t finish that sentence without sounding rude.

Danny chuckles. “It’s okay, you can say it.”

“No, no. I wasn’t going to, uh, say anything bad. I was just …” Again, I remain awkwardly silent.

He smirks at me. “You’re a bad liar.”

I blush.

He takes us to a closet, the door of which seems heavy as he shoves it open. His bicep flexes with the effort, his arms stretching the sleeves of his tight polo. After he’s gathered what we need from the back—which I volunteer to carry—he holds the heavy door open for me and says, “You first.”

I smile, then start to pass by. The stubborn, heavy door gives a little, causing Danny to scoot forward unintentionally right as I squeeze by, making my passage a tight one—and bringing us into surprisingly close proximity. For one blissful second, we are so close, I feel like I’m in his arms. Everything is slow motion. Danny’s beautiful face is in front of mine, gazing at me with his sweet eyes. My hands are filled with sanitizer spray bottles and disinfectant wipes, my heart is in my throat, and our eyes are locked.

The moment ends as fast as it came, and off I go to help Danny wipe sweat off of machines.

Why is a guy like Danny with a guy like Joey? That’s all I can think about as I’m wiping down the seat of a leg press machine, sneaking glances at Danny across the aisle and growing more confused by the second. Danny is a one in a million. An angel. A specimen of perfection.

And Joey is a fucking—“You don’t have to do this.”

I look up. Danny just finished wiping the bicep curl machine. You know, the one Joey probably lives at for two hours a day minimum. “I don’t mind helping,” I insist.

“Really.” He comes up to the fly machine I’m at and starts cleaning the other arm. “We’re the ones who are supposed to be keeping this place clean. And normally Brian would be out here on the floor looking after things, but—”

“Pulled muscle. I heard. I’m sorry you’re left taking up the slack.”

“Thanks. And it isn’t the first time, either, but I still get the blame. And the added stresses.”

“At least you’re not dealing with it alone,” I add with a smile.

“Hey, you’re right! I’m not.” He gazes at me, for a moment lost in my eyes. “What a strange feeling.”

My smile drops. His tone changed, too. “What’s strange?”

“Actually being listened to.”

I stop wiping whatever it is I’m wiping, my task forgotten completely.

He smiles at me from across the machine.

I smile back, my heart racing.

Our faces are mere inches apart, separated only by the freshly-wiped-down seat.

Are we having a moment?

Danny glances toward the front desk suddenly. “Phone’s ringing.” He pushes his glasses back up into place—that adorable habit of his—then shoots me an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back. Our answering machines are down, so I can’t let it go, and … sounds like Desiree can’t hear it. I wonder if she even got the towels.” He lets out a chuckling sigh. “Are you questioning your decision to renew your membership here yet? It’s like it’s still 1995 in this place. Answering machines … Outdated systems … Phones … Oh, right, the phone.”

He hurries off. I watch him go while gnawing anxiously on my lip. A swirl of excitement, uncertainty, and something else stirs around inside my chest—something I can’t name. It’s probably heartache. Or horniness.

Sometimes, they feel the same.

It’s always like this, isn’t it? The guys you want, you can’t have. Whether they’re straight, taken, or just plain not interested, all the guys you want are off-limits. The only place you can have them is in your dreams, where you feel only half of everything while your eyes are closed, and a whole lot of nothing when you wake up.

A loud thump startles me, and I notice Joey having plopped down at a nearby machine we just cleaned. He grunts demonstratively with every rep, making sure all within earshot are aware of his efforts. He’s so much bigger in his head than he is in reality, and it shows in his greedy eyes, in the way he gnashes his teeth when he concentrates, and in how his knuckles turn white with his fierce grip of the machine. Then he finishes, huffing, and leaves the machine without cleaning it.