Ben Ryder - Noah Page 2

  “When’s the best time to come?” Callum asked as Lena led him out of the gym and back to the front desk. “I mean, when’s it a little quieter?”

  “Around this time, actually. After lunch and before 5:00 p.m.,” she said, handing him a schedule of the free classes. “I see you’ve brought your bag. Are you working out today?”

  “I was hoping to go for a quick run before heading back to work.”

  “No problem.” Lena pointed in the direction of the changing rooms. “If you have any questions, please just ask.”

  Callum changed quickly and headed straight to a treadmill for a run. As he accelerated the speed on the machine, his increased heart rate and the music blaring through his headphones cleared his mind of software analysis, potential system viruses, and everything else that clogged up his thoughts Each treadmill faced a wall covered in mirrors, which reflected the runners and the rest of the gym. He kept an eye on his progress by the amount of moisture running down his face and the outwardly growing patch of sweat blossoming on his gray tank top.

  He surveyed the gym behind him in the mirror and saw the back of a well-built man walking toward the free weight area. He had broad shoulders that tapered to a thick neck that looked like he’d left a hanger under the collar of his black workout shirt. His muscular arms sported a gray tattoo of an image Callum couldn’t quite make out. His black shorts ran down to his knees and complemented his high, round ass. Below the shorts, bare muscular calves ended in thick ankles that disappeared into a pair of sockless sneakers. Dressed as he was, Callum assumed he must have been one of the gym’s personal trainers.

  Callum continued to admire the man as a middle-aged woman approached him. She looked as though she was about to tap the man on his shoulder but drew her hand back quickly, changing her mind at the last second. She walked behind him a moment longer and looked around, then paused, took a deep breath, and reached forward to tap him on the shoulder, this time making contact.

  When the man turned and smiled, Callum almost tripped over his own legs. He balanced himself and repeatedly pressed the button to decrease the speed until he reached a brisk walking pace. He returned his stare to the reflection of the man smiling politely at the woman.

  “Holy fuck,” Callum gasped. The man’s eyes darted in Callum’s direction. With music still blaring in his ears, Callum didn’t realize how loud he’d said it. He tried to exaggerate his look of exhaustion, hoping his words would be interpreted as a release from a heavy run. The trainer, who looked to be around the same age as Callum, returned his attention to the middle-aged woman, who was now rolling her left shoulder in coyness. She looked ecstatic that he was talking to her but also incredibly shy and embarrassed.

  The trainer was everything Callum found attractive in a man. His rugged good looks, thick stubble, and dark eyes were the perfect complement to his perfect body. There was also something about the way he interacted with the woman that caught Callum’s attention. From her first touch, it was clear this was the first time the two had met. Perhaps she had approached him for training advice or possibly to take her on as a client. Whatever the reason, the man showed a kindness in his eyes that showed respect as he listened to her talk, rather than the usual know-it-all attitude personal trainers often broadcast.

  They spoke for a few moments, and then the woman held up a palm and clumsily waved to gesture her good-bye. Callum was heartened as the man bent down, kissed her on the cheek, and gave her a brief one-armed hug. She held on longer than perhaps was appropriate before she released him. He walked away toward the free weight area, and the woman turned in the direction of the locker room. She looked as if every one of her Christmases had come at once.

  Every day for the next two weeks, Callum hit the gym at the same time, hoping the man kept a routine. Callum arranged his workdays so he could take an hour at 3:00 p.m. to cross over the complex for a workout. On some days, Callum was lucky and could watch him work out uninterrupted. Other days, the gregarious stud stood talking to a seemingly endless rotation of gym members seeking his conversation. But Callum never saw him actually training anyone. He wondered if he was a dietary or nutrition expert hired by the gym. It was, after all, an expensive place with higher-class members who could afford such things.

  Callum observed the man’s interactions. Everyone seemed to hang on his words, and, in return, they received his undivided attention when they spoke. Occasionally, in the moments of silence as Callum changed the track on his iPod, he overheard snippets of their conversations. Many of them included some kind of congratulations. Though he knew how foolish it was, Callum hoped it wasn’t for a recent engagement or wedding. Frustratingly, the man’s workout gloves hid any evidence of a ring.

  Though Callum felt ridiculous for it, seeing the man at the gym became the highlight of his days. Occasionally, when they passed in the gym, the man would smile at him, sending Callum into a mini-daze. But there were also days when he didn’t see him at all. The disappointment dictated Callum’s mood for the rest of the day as he reasoned that seeing the man work out was his reward for a hard day’s work. He could only assume this man was straight and totally unattainable, and it was unlikely they would ever really speak, much less get to know each other. Still, seeing him was enough to recharge the fantasies Callum had every night, alone in bed.

  Chapter Three

  9:05 a.m. T HE train rocked gently as it carried Callum to the heart of London. On any other day, this journey would have gone by quickly, with e-mails that needed to be drafted and thoughts of what he needed to accomplish that day at work. But today, the time between each stop seemed to drag on forever. With no specific destination in mind, he looked at the lined map of the Underground and thought of landmarks at each stop that might be distracting enough to make the day go quicker. But no historical building, must-see monument, or touted tourist attraction would be enough to take his mind off the wait. Still, he knew he couldn’t ride around on the Underground all morning. Like an experienced traveler throwing a dart at a map, he looked away and decided he would get off at the first one he saw when he returned his eyes to the list of stations. He landed on Leicester Square.

  C ALLUM’S first major task at the arena was to run virus scans and diagnostics on the mainframe. With the amount of time and effort he and his team in London had spent developing the software, he had to ensure there wasn’t anything that could corrupt their work.

  “How’s it going?” Amy asked brightly as she appeared in

  his office. “The mainframe is good, so no problem there. But I’ll have to do another scan once Arnold and the others have installed their programs.”

  “Arnold told me he’s running a bit behind at the moment, but I’ll try and find out when he thinks it will be ready.”

  She paused for a moment and cocked her head girlishly to one side. Callum watched as she raised an index finger behind her ear and twirled a lock of long blonde hair. “Could I ask you a favor?” she asked as she pulled the lock down in front of her. She released it just in time for the end of the loose curl to fall against her breast. “Could you draw up a schedule for me so I’ll know when you expect each part of the process should be complete?”

  Callum couldn’t help but smile in amusement, which he immediately knew would probably give her the impression that he was responding positively to her tease. Her behavior would work like a charm on a straight man, but to Callum it looked a little ridiculous. He also thought it was odd, as Amy seemed competent and confident enough not to rely on such tricks to get what she wanted.

  Callum reached into his bag, pulled out a file, and handed it to her. “Already done.”

  “Oh, Callum, you’re just the best!” she said, giving a jump high enough that her tits bounced just once. For a moment, Callum considered steering the conversation somehow so he would have the opportunity to tell her he was gay—if for no other reason than not to be subjected to her futile flirtations. He was completely comfortable and openly gay with his friends and co
lleagues at Alphatech, but he’d known them all a long time and was able to joke and talk about his private life. But Callum had always maintained a distinction between colleagues and clients. He decided he wouldn’t blur that line here, either.

  Amy smiled again, and Callum politely nodded before returning to his screen.

  “Thanks again, handsome. I’ll see ya,” Amy called as she left his office. Callum waved and continued working.

  After several hours hunched over a computer, Callum looked forward to stretching and working out as he entered the gym. There was no sign of the trainer, which Callum lamented, so he started a heavy routine, thinking perhaps today he would be able to make it all the way through his workout without any distractions. He set about lifting barbells to pump up his biceps and moved onto skullcrushers to develop his already sizable triceps. Halfway through his chest press reps, he felt like he was losing power in his arms. Assuming he could drive through it, Callum lowered the bar down to his chest once more.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He breathed as deeply as he could and tried to get the energy to raise the bar again. But it was no use. He lay on the bench with the barbell across his chest and felt it getting slowly heavier and heavier until the weight was driving into his sternum.

  Staring at the ceiling, red-faced, a little humiliated, and becoming increasingly panicked, Callum pushed at the bar once more before he knew he’d have to call out for help. Suddenly, fingers that were not his own wrapped around the barbell and the pressure lifted from his chest.

  “Whoa, big fella, let me get that for you.” The upsidedown face of the trainer seemed to appear from nowhere.

  His thick forearms bulged as he lifted the weight back onto the rack. Callum sat up and was mortified that, of all the people to see him get stuck, it was this man who rescued him.

  “Thanks,” Callum said as he sat up on the bench. “I haven’t increased my weights in a while. I think I may have been a bit too ambitious.” He tried to sound casual, even though his pulse was pounding in his ears.

  “Come on, you have to finish your set. If you don’t, you’ll be nervous of lifting that weight again.” Callum’s savior spoke with encouragement. “Go ahead. I’ll spot you.”

  “I really appreciate it but I think I’ve had enough for today.”

  “Honestly, I’ve got it for you.” He was being so kind to offer to help. Callum thought refusing would come across as rude.

  “Okay, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  “Hey, we’ve all been there. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been stuck under one of these damn things.”

  A little timidly, Callum lay back on the flat bench. He didn’t want to look weak, so he tried to psych himself up to lift the weight that had almost crushed his ribs. He gathered what strength he could and gripped the bar.

  “On three,” the man said as Callum curled his hands around the bar.

  They both lifted it off the rack. The object of Callum’s lust got in position to take the weight of the bar in case he got stuck again and shuffled forward. Callum rested his head on the bench and, unable to move anywhere, found his face directly below his spot’s crotch, with a view straight up his shorts. The sight of his huge thighs, dusted generously with soft hair, would have been enough to make Callum drop the weight. But the sight of the undercarriage of a white cotton jock strap, whose material was stretching to house what looked like a pair of heavy balls, had Callum urging, “Take it, take the bar,” before his elbows buckled again.

  “Maybe next time, eh?” the man said as he set the bar against the rack again. Callum shot back up in a sitting position and tried to compose his flustered face. The redness in his cheeks could have been a symptom of the stress of the weight. Only Callum knew that, for the first time in years, he was actually blushing.

  “Maybe I should invest in a trainer,” Callum said, standing and stretching his chest.

  “A big guy like you? Nah, you look like you know what you’re doing.”

  For a moment, Callum was disappointed. The guy hadn’t even tried to recruit him as a new client. “Yeah, well, I’m only here for another twelve weeks, so it’s probably not enough time for any real improvement.”

  “Where are you from?” the trainer asked, leaning forward and crossing his arms over the bar, as if he was waiting to spot Callum’s next attempt at the weight.

  “London,” he said. Then he quickly added, “I’m Callum, by the way.” “Noah Lukas.” He reached out a hand, which Callum shook, finally making physical contact for the first time. Callum felt a little giddy but tried to keep his cool as Noah continued speaking. “Look, I may only be here for a little more than twelve weeks or so myself. I’d love to work out with you while you’re here, if you’re up for it.”

  Regularly scheduled sessions? Yes, please, Callum thought to himself before saying, “Sure, how much do you charge per session?”

  “Charge? What do you mean?” Noah said, looking puzzled. “How much per session? Do I just book them downstairs at reception?”

  “Charge for a workout buddy? Sorry, you’ve lost me.”

  “Oh, sorry, I thought you meant you wanted to take me on as a client. Hell, if you want to do it for free, I can live with that!”

  “You think I’m a personal trainer?” Noah’s look of confusion was slowly replaced with a half-smile. “Well, yeah. Aren’t you? You seem to know everyone in here, so I assumed you were either a personal trainer or you worked here in some capacity.”

  “No, no. I’m a hockey player for the Bobcats. I don’t know anybody in here, to be honest, but they all know me, if that makes sense. They follow the team.”

  Callum instantly understood the reactions he’d been seeing among the other gym members. “Ah, they’re fans! That makes more sense. They always look so happy when they’re chatting with you.”

  “Yeah, they come up and wish me luck and want to talk about the last game and what’s ahead this season. Some of them are really hardcore, devoted fans, and I love them for it.” Noah looked around, as if not to be overheard, and leaned forward to continue in a lower tone. “But, as much as I love chatting with them and appreciate their support, they make my workouts last for hours because I can’t get away from them without coming across as rude or ungrateful. Having a workout buddy would help. Perhaps they won’t approach me so often.” He paused for a moment with a genuine look of concern on his face. “Does that make me sound like an asshole? I sound like an asshole, right?”

  “No, not at all,” Callum said reassuringly. “But why are you working out here? Don’t you guys have a private facility?”

  “Yeah, but the gym we use in the old arena has started to be torn out, and the team gym at the new arena isn’t ready yet.”

  “Ah, I see. I’m working at the new arena, setting up the comms software for you guys.”

  “That’s great! You should stop by and see us practice one day. We’re there every day around—” “One o’clock, I know. My office is just upstairs from the arena and I can hear you guys. I’d love to come watch practice sometime, but I’ll be honest, I don’t know a great deal about ice hockey. It’s not really a sport I grew up with in England.”

  “You’ll love it, I promise. Come see us one afternoon while you’re working.” Callum looked at his watch. “Sure. Speaking of which, I’d better get back. It was great to meet you. Shall we say three o’clock every day?”

  “Can we say 3:30, just in case practice runs long?” “Sure, that’s fine with me,” Callum said, though he would have agreed to anything Noah wanted. “Great! There will be a few days I won’t be able to make it as we have some away games, but other than that it sounds perfect.”

  They shook gloved hands and Callum made his way through the gym, grinning like every one of the fans he’d seen talking to Noah, but for a very different reason.

  Chapter Four

  9:55 a.m. I T WAS still early in Leicester Square, but the area around the Odeon Cinema was packed with young girls who had
camped out overnight to get a good spot to see Mason Russell. Callum recalled the reporter on the news that morning mentioning the movie star was due to arrive for the premiere of his movie later that evening. Callum looked at the girls’ tired faces as they tapped away on their phones, whiling away the time until the action star arrived. Waiting like me, he thought as he walked past the line. He knew they would be there until at least 8:00 p.m., and that the skies could open at any time. Most of them seemed prepared for whatever London’s moody skies might throw at them. But one middle-aged woman looked up at the gray clouds, huddling her two young daughters close to her. Callum walked over to the tape that cordoned off the area for the fans.

  “I think you’re going to need this more than me,” he said, handing her his umbrella. “You keep your mum warm today, you hear?” he said to the girls, who were still thumbing away on their phones. Before she could protest or refuse the offer, he turned and walked away. He only looked back to nod when she shouted her thanks.

  THAT evening, after floating through the rest of his workday and returning to his apartment, Callum spent a couple of hours drafting his weekly report to send back to London. So far, everything with the system was working well, though he had to explain to Ian that they were a little behind schedule, as Arnold was still trying to catch up.

  Before he closed his laptop, Callum entered the name “Noah Lukas” into the search engine. They were having their first workout together the next day, so curiosity got the better of him.

  Immediately, a page full of images flooded the screen. Each one looked similar to the next, a white background of ice and a man in a navy-blue and white hockey uniform wearing a helmet with a blue Bobcat decal. The only real variation among the photos was the action pose of his body as he skated.