Awesome. Right. Just like finding out that despite his brawn, Ben was nothing like the assholes Oliver had been attracted to in the past.
Wait. No. That wasn’t awesome. That was scary.
Ben was still looking away from Oliver, even though Oliver had finished dressing. “I’m especially looking forward to the undercover training. Nervous about it, but looking forward to it. That will be completely new, pretending to be someone else, but I think I can do it. I feel like I can.” Ben broke off, his cheeks still pink but not as fluorescently so as they’d been a few moments before. “And, uh, how about you?”
“My favorite class is yoga.”
Ben laughed and finally looked back at Oliver, and this time Oliver couldn’t resist smiling. Finding ways to make that happy sound burst out of Ben could be a fun pastime.
Oh boy, he was in trouble.
“No, I mean, did you always want to work for FUC?”
“Honestly, it had never occurred to me until about a year or so ago. This is my second career choice too.”
“Really? I mean—no offense—but you can’t be older than twenty-five.”
Oliver shot him a brilliant grin. “I’m twenty-eight, actually, so thank you.”
Ben blushed some more, and Oliver decided that could be a fun game too.
Yep. Definitely in trouble.
Looking back at the track, Oliver continued. “I was a dancer.”
“Like, ballet?”
“Exotic. My specialty was the pole.”
Ben seemed to choke on nothing. “O-oh.”
“It’s not a secret,” Oliver assured him. “The administration knows—hell, they know everything about everyone who comes through the front doors. Anyway, I was doing some yoga instruction on the side for a friend, then some stuff happened at work, and I decided to make a career change. Another friend suggested FUC was looking for diversification in its physical fitness classes…and here I am.”
There was a lot he’d left out, and Ben seemed to know it, but he didn’t pry. “You weren’t worried about discrimination?”
“What, because of what I used to do, or because I’m gay?”
“Both?”
“No one cares. Wait—okay, that’s not a hundred percent true. The people who matter don’t care. Sometimes students come through who have opinions, and there have been a couple of comments from instructors, ones who aren’t here anymore. For the most part, it’s a non-issue. I do my job and I do it well, and that’s what counts.”
“Huh.”
“It doesn’t hurt that I’ve taken a number of the courses here, when they’re open to having a non-student sit in. So I know how to kick ass and take names.”
“Oh.” Ben’s eyes took on a mischievous glint. “So you’re a whooping-ass crane.”
Oliver snorted out a surprised laugh. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
They walked in silence for a while, but it was a comfortable quiet. Oliver got the sense that Ben appreciated the hush of the early morning outdoors just as much as he did.
“I’m gay too,” Ben said quietly.
“I’d already guessed that,” Oliver said. “I don’t think anyone else has—I just have very good gaydar.”
“I’m not really in the closet or anything. I was out at my last job. Just, here…I wasn’t sure.”
“With a bod like yours, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” Shit, did he say that out loud?
Ben smiled. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, uh.” Oliver cleared his throat. “You’re welcome. So…tomorrow? Same time, same place?”
“You got it.”
5
Ben had never thought he’d enjoy getting up before dawn to do yoga, of all things, but it quickly became the best part of his day. Okay, maybe not the yoga itself, but spending time with Oliver. The other man was patient and dedicated to his goal of making Ben more bendy, and during their after-class walk—which had become a thing—he showed he was witty, kind, and very smart. If he was being honest, it was those conversations that Ben looked forward to most…but admitting that seemed a little less than professional.
After two weeks, they’d settled into something of a routine. Yoga, walk, breakfast in the cafeteria. Ben’s flexibility and agility were slowly getting better, but his body just wasn’t built for delicate or intricate moves. The obstacle course was almost reconstructed and the hourglass was counting down until he’d have to tackle it again—traditionally this time. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t improving quickly enough. He hadn’t shared his worries with Oliver, but he didn’t have to. Oliver seemed to already know he was concerned.
But they were done with the deep talking today. Oliver needed to run by his room before breakfast to check his phone—he was expecting a text from someone named Jinx, whoever that was—and Ben decided going with him was better than sitting awkwardly at a table by himself. Good thing he did, because he was the one to notice Oliver’s door stood ajar.
He grabbed Oliver’s arm. “Wait. Did you leave your door open?”
“No.” Oliver’s voice was firm and definitive, no confusion there.
“Wait here.”
Oliver huffed. “Ben—”
Ben wasn’t interested in Oliver’s protests. His inner bull might be a herd animal and not a predator, but he protected his own. And somewhere along the way, Oliver had become one of his.
Not something he had time to contemplate right now.
He pushed the door open gently. It made no noise as it swung open, revealing a dorm room not much bigger than Ben’s, but clearly intended for only one occupant. It had a queen-sized bed and a desk, plus a mini-fridge. And a cabinet, which Ben could hardly see due to the figure kneeling in front of it.
“What the hell are you doing?” he bellowed.
The figure jolted upward and…things flew out of an open can. It took Ben a second to identify the projectiles as nuts. The guy was raiding Oliver’s nuts?
“I—I—” The guy’s eyes widened and he looked at something behind Ben. “S-sorry, Oliver, but I ran out and I remember that you had—”
Ben ignored the fact that Oliver had entered the room against Ben’s specific orders. “Did you seriously break into his room to steal his nuts?”
“They’re good nuts! Nice and salty and—what?”
Oliver snorted from behind Ben. “Nothing, nothing. Go on, Jeremy.”
“I knew you had a stash and I—I couldn’t help myself.”
“Bullshit,” Ben growled.
“He’s a squirrel,” Oliver said.
“I don’t care. No one has the right to steal your nuts, Oliver!”
Oliver pressed his lips together and nodded, shaking a little. Poor guy.
Ben marched forward and wrenched the can from Jeremy’s grip. One last cashew, or maybe it was an almond, went flying. “Get out of here. No more nut stealing.”
“Yes, right, of course.” He darted a glance at Oliver. “Sorry.”
Oliver smiled at him, far kinder than Ben would have been to find out someone had broken into his room for nuts. “Just ask next time, okay?”