Gym Junkie

“Okay.” He keeps looking. “I’ll get the super foods.” He closes the menu and looks up at me, breaking out into a beautiful, broad smile.

“What?” I smile back at him.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Thinking you’re the boss of us and shit.”

I giggle. “I am the boss of us, Brock.”

His eyes dance with mischief. “But I’m the boss of all the physical activity.”

“And you seem very happy about that.”

“I am, actually.” He stretches and inhales deeply. “I feel like I was born for this role.”

I laugh. “You’re an idiot.”

The coffee guy comes over with his pen and notepad. “Hey, guys. How are you today?” His attention is focused solely on me.

“Good, thanks.” I open the menu, but I can feel the waiter’s eyes lingering on my legs, and then roaming up my body.

“Going swimming?” he asks.

My eyes flicker over to Brock who glances up from his menu and frowns. I giggle nervously. “Yes, I am. I’ll have the Eggs Benedict and a skim cappuccino, please,” I say. I look up and the waiter is staring at me, smiling with a dreamy look on his face.

“Do you always wear a bikini when you swim, or do you ever wear a one-piece?” he asks openly.

Oh God.

“Erm. Bikini, I guess.” Just take the order and go away, I don’t want to talk to you today. He’s so flirty all the time.

“I’ll bet you look good in it.” He smiles. He then remembers where he is, and he turns to Brock. “And what will you have, sir?”

“I’ll have your balls on a fucking platter if you don’t stop looking at her,” he growls.

My eyes widen. “B-Brock!” I stammer.

The poor boy stares at Brock, the colour draining from his face.

Brock glares at him. “I’ll have the super foods breakfast, and if you flirt with my girl again, I will choke you.” He taps the table in front of us. “Right here.”

The guy pales..

“Do I make myself clear?”

He swallows the lump in his throat. “Crystal.”

Brock hands him the menus. “My coffee had better be good, fucker.”

Chapter 10

“Brock,” I whisper as the guy scurries back to the kitchen to hand the order in. “What the hell was that?”

He shrugs, and I can see that temper simmering just below the surface again.

“You can’t threaten people like that,” I tell him.

“It wasn’t a threat. I’m more than happy to follow it through.”

“Are you kidding me?” I gasp.

“I won’t have you disrespected by a skinny punk in a coffee shop who thinks he can check out my girl right in front of me. He was asking for it.”

“I’m not your girl.”

“You’re here with me so that makes you my girl.”

I roll my eyes. “This is supposed to be a romantic date and...” I shake my head, words failing me.

“And what?”

“And so far, this morning, you have urinated in front of me, stripped naked without a care in the world, and now you’ve told someone you are going to strangle them on the table if they pay me any attention.”

“And?” he says dryly. “Your point is?”

“You don’t see a problem with that?”

“No.” He looks at me as if I’m stupid “I see a problem if I pretend to be something other than what I am.”

I stare at him.

“I bet your other boyfriend used to be all puppy dog eyes and shitting over you.”

I smirk. “He was, actually.” I would say jump and Simon would say how high.

He rolls his eyes, unimpressed. “Pathetic,” he mouths.

“What about your past girlfriends?” I ask. “Surely they wouldn’t have put up with your temper.”

“I wouldn’t know.” He purses his lips and looks around the café at the other people, as if he’s completely uninterested in this conversation

“What does that mean?”

“The last girlfriend I had was when I was seventeen.”

I frown. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“You haven’t had a girlfriend for eleven years?” I gasp.

“No.”

“So, what? You just sleep with girls and then… leave?”

“Pretty much.” He shrugs. “We usually have a mutual understanding.”

Our coffees arrive from a female waitress this time, and her eyes linger on Brock a little too long. What is it about this place?

“Thank you,” I mutter, distracted. I think on this for a moment. “Why don’t you have girlfriends?” I ask. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s just not something I’ve ever been interested in. I was in the Navy, away for a lot of the time, and since I got back I’ve just been having fun.”

I stare at him as I try to read between the lines. “When you said that you knew a lot about me, what exactly did you mean?”

His eyes hold mine. “It was no accident we met in the club. I followed you there.”

I raise both brows and stare at him.

“I called my friends up and we staged the whole accidental meet up.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

I try to act unimpressed, but I fail miserably, and I smirk as I imagine him setting up the staging. “Why would you do that?”