Page 66 of Gym With Benefits

The smell of hot garbage and melting asphalt from the street outside dissolved under the blast of the museum’s industrial cooling vents. Walter carried a paper sack leaking grease from our standard Tuesday taco run, his mouth moving in a steady rhythm as he debated the preservation merits of various polymer sealants.

The security turnstiles clicked ahead of us. My sneakers squeaked on the polished terrazzo floor, then stopped dead.

Carter stood at the reception desk, leaning one elbow on the marble counter with a casual posture that looked preserved from our sophomore year of college. The same golden-brown hair fell across his brow, and the tailored linen shirt looked expensive, but the sight of him produced nothing but a mild, prickling irritation in my throat. He turned his head, his eyes locking onto mine across the wide atrium.

“Go on ahead, Walter,” I said, handing over my badge to the guard. “I'll be down in a minute.”

Carter stepped away from the desk, a familiar, boyish smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he closed the distance between us. “Jess. Wow. You look amazing.”

The compliment landed flatly. Having spent the last several weeks being thoroughly worshiped, bent over, and appreciated by three separate physical specimens at Capitol Fitness, Carter's practiced charm felt remarkably thin.

“What are you doing here, Carter?” I asked, steering him toward a pair of low leather chairs near the soaring glass windows to keep the conversation out of the main security lane.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, sinking into the leather and flashing that old, dependable grin. “How's the museum life? You still archiving those colonial textiles?”

“We're busy,” I replied, keeping my posture straight, my tone perfectly neutral. I offered zero details about the current collection or the upcoming research grant. My mind went quiet.

Carter didn't seem to notice the lack of reciprocity. His ego expanded into the conversational void seamlessly. “Right, right. Well, I just took a position as a digital media consultant at a boutique firm downtown. We handle all the major political campaigns, high-stakes crisis management, that sort of thing. It's high-pressure, but the payoff is incredible.”

Listening to him talk made me wonder how a version of myself ever found this specific brand of self-absorbed chatter attractive. The contrast between this boy and the raw, unforced confidence of the men currently occupying my bed felt staggering.

“Good for you,” I said, checking the digital face of my watch. “Look, if this is about lunch, you're out of luck. Walter and I just ate, and I have a three o'clock deadline on a critical restoration project.”

“Then let me take you to dinner,” Carter pressed, leaning forward, his eyes trying to project a deep, sincere intensity. “Come on, Jess. Just one drink. We have a lot to catch up on.”

Suspicion hardened my spine. I looked at the tailored linen of his sleeves, the expensive watch, the careful haircut. “What's going on, Carter? Why are you showing up at my office out of the blue?”

He let out a slow sigh, his shoulders dropping into a performance of vulnerability. “Amberleigh told me you're coming to the wedding next month. I want to clear the air before we get there. I don't want things to be weird or awkward when we're sitting at the same reception dinner. We're adults, right?”

A dry, cynical laugh fell out of me. The realization hit me with a beautiful, crystal clarity: he wanted a waiver. He wanted me to pat him on the head and tell him his betrayal was ancient history so he could enjoy his champagne without a side of guilt.

“We are adults,” I agreed, rising from the leather chair and smoothing the front of my pants. “Which means we can handle one social event without a pre-meeting. We'll eat our chicken, toast the bride, and then go back to never seeing each other again.”

Carter blinked, his mouth parting slightly as a flush of dark color crept up his neck. The blunt candor obviously insulted him, cutting straight through his expectation of a tearful, complicated reunion. “Jess, that's... a little harsh, don't you think? After everything we were to each other?”

“There's nothing to talk about, Carter,” I said, looking down at him with total indifference. My life was filled with too much heat and excitement to leave room for his conscience clearing. “You cheated on me five years ago. I moved on. Enjoy your new job.”

He sat frozen for a beat, his bruised ego visible in the rigid set of his shoulders, before he finally stood up and walked toward the revolving doors without another word. I turned my back onthe glass, the ghost of my past officially exorcised, and headed straight down to the basement.

The steel elevator doors slid shut, cutting off the bright glare of the lobby. A vibration ran through the floor indicator as the car dropped toward the sub-basement. My fingers trembled slightly against the glass screen of my phone as I tapped David’s speed dial, the residual adrenaline from the confrontation making my breath shallow.

“Tell me someone died or you won the lottery,” David answered, his voice competing with the background clatter of a high-end coffee shop.

“Carter just showed up at my office,” I said, leaning my spine against the cold metal wall.

The line went dead silent for a fraction of a second. “He did what? If that golden-boy bastard thinks he can creep back into your life right before the wedding—”

“I tore him to shreds, David,” I interrupted, a breathless, triumphant laugh escaping my throat. “He wanted to clear the air so things wouldn't be weird at the reception. He wanted me to absolve his guilt. I told him he cheated five years ago, I moved on, and we can handle one dinner without a pre-meeting before we go back to never seeing each other again. He left with his ego in absolute pieces.”

A loud, theatrical cheer erupted from the speaker. “Yes! That's my girl! You handled that like an absolute pro, Jess. God, I wish I possessed a hidden camera in that lobby.”

The elevator doors chimed, opening onto the dim, fluorescent-lit corridor of the archives. The scent of vinegar from deteriorating microfilm and old paper hit my nose as I walked toward my private workspace.

“The crazy part is, I actually meant it,” I murmured, passing the rows of locked storage cages. “A few months ago, seeing him would've destroyed my entire week. But today? I just felt annoyed. My confidence didn't even waver.”

“Well, you have a three-man security detail keeping that confidence topped up,” David chuckled, his tone turning perceptive. “Let's be real, Jess. You have those guys to thank for getting your groove back. They reminded you exactly what you're worth.”

“They did,” I admitted, unlocking the heavy door to my office and dropping my bag onto the metal desk. The massive, ancient weaving project laid out under the magnifying lamps looked less daunting than usual. “David, it's insane. I never imagined feeling this way about another guy again after what Carter did. Let alone three of them at the same time.”