At the Gym

This excerpt features characters from The Rainbow Collection. Sean has Dissociative Identity Disorder and Trevor is his alternate personality who loves to put his two cents in.

Sean

I hit the gym before going home and spend an impossibly long time on the elliptical. Walking on solid ground afterwards is like hitting land after a two-month cruise. Maybe. I’ve never been on a ship for any length of time, but I swear it can’t feel much different. After a sauna and shower, I’m at my locker getting dressed when this gorgeous man travels down the row, freshly toweled off and as naked as the day his mother met him. I’ve seen him before, though not nearly as much of him, and am pretty sure he’s gay too, but I ignore his display just in case. Should probably ignore it anyway, even though the place is empty. Rule number one for gays in a mainly hetero locker room is ‘Do not let thy eyes wander, lest the Straights become uncomfortable.’

“Good morning,” he says as he passes and stops at a locker about four away. His voice holds an accent I can’t place.

“Morning,” I reply, and Trevor pulls our eyes to his.

Hello yumminess! he warbles in my head. Look. No tan lines.

I shove Trevor hard, and he retreats with a laugh. But it’s true; this man stands maybe 6’1” and is nothing but long, sleek muscles shaded a toasty brown. His dark hair falls in wet waves around his face, ending somewhere at the middle of his neck. I still prefer blonds, but one must acknowledge art when it’s presented.

I go back to dressing and consider shedding the towel bound around my hips. Trevor dares me, but I don’t indulge. I poke my head through the neck hole of my t-shirt and Mr. Toasty is next to me, dressed in faded jeans and nothing else. Even his feet are long and gorgeous.

“I’m Marco.” His lips barely tick up.

“Sean,” I say without the same invitation his tone implied.

“I’m always starved after a workout. You?”

My cheeks tighten to hold the smile at bay. “Sometimes.” Oh, this is a bad, bad idea…

His eyes brighten, but the rest of him remains smoothly casual. “Can I interest you in brunch?”

Trevor groans at my response before it passes my lips. “As much fun as that sounds, I shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t?” There’s amusement on his handsome face.

Damn, he’s tempting. “There’s… someone I’m trying to work things out with. Brunch could be confusing.”

Marco leans his back against the lockers and considers me. “Brunch doesn’t have to be confusing. Breakfast or lunch. Coffee or cocktail.”

Uh huh. “Discussions and dessert?”

“If there’s a someone,” he tilts his head in consideration, “dessert can be another time.”

Another man enters. I expect Marco to straighten and adopt a less sensual stance. He doesn’t, and that is definitely a point in his favor. Our intruder glances at us and chooses a locker at the far end of the row, which means he’s not a regular with an assigned spot. I wonder if Marco’s obvious interest will scare him to another gym.

Marco waits for an answer. “I’d really like to say yes.”

“Then say it,” he smiles and I melt.

I swallow the temptation and shake my head. “Rain check? If I find myself less… involved?”

He straightens, still smiling. “If he works out, we can shelf dessert completely. Maybe I’ll find a friend and we can all enjoy a nice meal.”

“Maybe,” I echo.

Marco leans in a sort of bow. “Enjoy your Sunday, Sean.” His deep voice is melodious and exotic. He pulls on a white button-up shirt, shoulders his gym bag, and leaves me dizzy in his wake.

I blow out a breath, fold my arms on the locker, and lean my forehead into it.

I hate you, Sean, Trevor grumbles.