Chapter Text
It starts simply, as most things do, with a text.
Your phone pings from somewhere in the mess of your bed, and you fish it out to find an unexpected name lighting up the screen.
[Jayce (Talis?), 5:03pm]: Hey! This is kind of random, but Caitlyn told me that you’re not happy with your current gym situation. I get it! Those big gyms are always full of creeps haha! I have a pretty great set up at home and I promise I’m not a creep, so if you’re ever interested in working out together, it’d be cool to have you over. Let me know sometime!
He’s a friend of a friend—just an acquaintance to you—but Jayce has always seemed like a good guy. Truthfully, you’ve always wanted to get to know him better. Met him multiple times through your friend group, and your mutual interest in fitness clearly aligned, but somehow the opportunity to grow your friendship kept slipping through your fingers. Never the right time.
Until now.
You’d give anything to have a more private space to work out in without the prying eyes of men who, at best, stare through your squat set or, at worst, ‘ just want to help ’ by approaching unsolicited about your lifting form or your workout plan. Assholes, the lot of them. You know what you’re doing and you’re sick of being treated otherwise. Sick of paying to be uncomfortable and skipping workouts out of dread.
It’s a bonus that you’d get to spend more time with Jayce. He has a stellar reputation, known for being a supportive, giving person and pretty hilarious to drink with. Nobody’s ever called him a creep, even drunk, and it makes you feel even better knowing that he has a girlfriend too.
You don’t hesitate to respond.
[5:05pm] Hi!! Not random at all, thank you for offering :) If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to take you up on that. I’ve always wanted a workout buddy and a home setup sounds way better than where I’m at now.
Hitting send is the easiest thing you’ve done all day.
The hardest is waiting for him to respond.
It’s not immediate, letting your excitement slowly sour into anxiety. Maybe he thought you’d say no? Maybe you shouldn’t have sounded so eager? Did he think you were desperate?
You might be.
Just a little bit.
You’re not particularly interested in joining the women’s boxing gym with Cait and Vi, which up until now has been your only decent alternative. Nothing against them! But it’s expensive, and a good lifting to cardio ratio has always been your preference.
About twenty five minutes later, the text tone sounds in your lap and his name finally lights up the lock screen again. You scramble to unlock it.
[Jayce (Talis?), 5:24pm]: Short notice, but would you want to come tonight? I’m thinking around 7.
Before you could move your fingers to respond, another text came through.
[Jayce (Talis?), 5:24pm]: Vi might come too. Not 100% sure yet.
Playing it cool, you force yourself to wait a few minutes. All of which is spent staring at the message, formulating the perfect casual response. You settle on:
[5:30pm] Sounds great! Tell me where to go and I’ll be there :)
An hour and a half later, you find yourself dressed to sweat, pulling up to the address he’d sent.
It’s a well-kept house in a pretty nice neighborhood. Not far from you either—about twenty minutes when the traffic’s light. Bigger than you expected, definitely, with two cars in the driveway.
Neither of which belong to Vi.
You pick one to park behind and, as you kill the engine, consider that it would’ve been more polite to park on the street instead.
“Oh well ,” you sigh, rife with nervous energy. Too late.
He’s seen you.
It’s not as if you could sneak up on him. The garage door is wide open, giving you a distant glimpse of the ‘ great set-up ’ he promised. Of him , with a huge, welcoming grin and an enthusiastic wave after he sets down two colossal dumbbells on the floor, thickly padded out over the concrete slab. He’s wearing the shortest neon shorts you’ve ever seen on a man, but hey, to each their own. Certainly makes his thighs look like tree trunks, if that’s what he’s going for.
His breezy, upbeat demeanor is contagious. You feel the part of you that is thrilled for the opportunity take control, practically bounding up the driveway, gym bag slung over your shoulder, to greet him. Your smile brightens; you feel it keenly in your cheeks as you wave back.
“Hey, welcome!” he says, meeting you at the wide open threshold. Hardly a bead of sweat on his brow— yet .
“Good to see you, Jayce! I really appreciate the invite.”
He goes in for a casual hug, like you’ve known each other for years—plural. Not just one and some change as two ships passing. “No problem,” he grins, giving you a good-natured squeeze. “Happy to share.”
You return it easily, pleased to be treated like a familiar friend, before you’re rocking back on cushioned heels and peering around his broad frame. Curious to see, and there was a lot to take in.
From first glance alone, this man owns two mid-line treadmills, a water rower, and a decidedly ridiculous range of benches and weights. Kettlebells, dumbbells, weight plates—you name it, he has it. Not to mention the fully mirrored wall and a sound system you can faintly hear, turned down in the background. Remixed pop music, very dynamic and bass-heavy. The iron-grated industrial fan was a pleasant touch too, grateful for it already in the lingering summer heat.
“You really weren’t lying… This is pretty extensive.”
Not to mention, expensive .
“You think so? It’s been a work in progress for a while.”
“I mean, is there anything you don’t have?” you gawk, stepping clear around him to stand side by side.
The smell hits you, then, of rubber and metal and some lemony-scented cleaner. Refreshing, if only because it’s nothing like the humid scent of stale sweat you’ve grown accustomed to. It’s still cluttered from the sheer variety of equipment, but everything has its place—like a well kept sanctuary, you can tell.
Jayce sounds almost sheepish, all in that nervous little laugh that skitters out of him as he says, “Well, uh, I still haven’t installed the TRX straps yet. Need to find a strong enough anchor point in the wall, y’know? And I’ve been meaning to recalibrate—”
But you’ll hear nothing of it.
“Stop that, I was kidding !” You give his barrelling arm a well-meaning nudge of your shoulder, offering a smile meant to reassure. “This is seriously incredible, you’ve curated a lot of great equipment. What’s the membership fee? I’m pretty interested in joining.”
His shoulders relax, though you hadn’t noticed until then how tense he is.
It’s surprising that he isn’t more confident in the space he’s offering. Makes you wonder who or what he could possibly be comparing it to.
Probably some rich, frivolous influencer with a home gym and handful of sponsorships.
Which checks out, knowing Jayce stays active on his socials. He’s always posting videos of his workouts and very stereotypical mirror flexes, though you try not to judge him for it. It’s not from a place of douchebaggery—he’s just having fun with it.
Maybe you’ll be brave enough to post one some day, too.
Jayce nudges you back, taking a step inside that invites you to follow. “It’s free if you’re nice and always put your weights back when you’re done with them. Helping me clean is negotiable, but I’d appreciate it.”
Easy enough and very generous. You could probably stand to grab him coffee or take out from time to time, as a thank you.
“My only hard and fast rule is no heavy barbells without a spotter, but otherwise I’m not worried. Cait gave me the impression that you know what you’re doing.”
“Wait… Then who spots you?” you wonder aloud, looking at the conical rack of weight plates—as small as two and a half, all the way up to fifty pounds. “If you lift as heavy as I think you do, I definitely won’t be able to save you from getting crushed, sorry.”
“It’s cool,” he shrugs, “Vi has that covered when she comes by.”
When you look back toward the driveway, as if she might pull up at any moment, that uneasy edge creeps back into his voice. “Oh, yeah, by the way… She’s actually not coming tonight. Something about dinner plans, I think. Did you, uh, still want to stay though?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” you ask, finally noticing a characteristic of his body language that is, well, interesting.
It’s the way his shoulders aren’t tense, but hunched to the effect that he seems smaller, if that’s even possible. Non-threatening , you realize, and it clicks just how much Caitlyn must’ve said about your bad experiences with men at the gym.
He really is a sweetheart. His girlfriend is very lucky.
“I dunno… I just thought you’d be more comfortable if she was here.”
“That’s really considerate, Jayce, but I’m fine. More than fine. I’m really excited for this and feeling pretty good about it.” You drop your bag on the floor for emphasis that, ‘ yes, I am staying , no getting rid of me now,’ in a spot that’s hopefully out of the way. “Can I have the new member tour now?”
“Awesome, let’s do it,” he says, clapping his hands together in that oh-so-familiar, now endearing, gym bro sort of manner. “Oh, uh, yeah! We can start with where to actually put your stuff.”
That’s how you find out in quick order that you’ll want for nothing here. You can cancel your old membership without an ounce of regret. Everything you need is in that garage—great equipment, great company, and twenty-four hour access, though you aren’t one to pump iron at three in the morning.
All that, and more still.
You hadn’t known before, but Jayce has a personal training certification that he got some years back. He mentions it in passing, as if it’s no big deal. Offers to help you plan workouts to meet your goals if you want, but no pressure.
You’re going to take him up on it, of course. Time permitting.
Throughout the workout with Jayce, inclines on the treadmill and an intense leg day—or rather, evening— with weights interspersed, you start to wonder what part of this is too good to be true.
You come up short by the time it’s dark and you, drenched in sweat and sore to the bone, are leaving with the promise to come back soon and his garage code stored in your phone.
But you see something then, as you stand at your open car door. Right out of the corner of your eye as you wave a final goodbye to Jayce, the garage door slowly rolling closed over his bright, sweaty, smiling face. Something you aren’t sure what to think about, but you know what you saw. It’s not your imagination.
The blinds on a dimly lit far window snaps shut as you move to get into your car. Not fast enough to escape your notice, though you see no more movement after that. Just a steady glow from the windows, washing the white stucco siding in shades of warm yellow light.
It reminds you of the reason you came here in the first place.
You hate feeling watched.