Page 91 of Contested

Sebastian Nguyen had spent most of Marcos’ life being the exact kind of person he could be stupid about, which probably meant Paula’s advice had arrived too late.

‘I’ll try.’

|| Chapter Twenty ||

Marcos – “Things are different now”

LATE APRIL

“If you don’t finish this set, I’m telling everyone I’m stronger than you,” Sebastian said, standing over Marcos as he bench-pressed another rep, air hissing from his lips.

The bar moved slower than Marcos wanted.

It had started cleanly enough. First rep, second, third, the weight heavy but manageable, his shoulders set properly against the bench and his feet planted wide on the rubber flooring. By the sixth, his chest had started to burn. By the eighth, the burn had turned sharp, and he could feel the rest of his body trying to help in ways it shouldn’t. His shoulders wanted to roll forward. His back wanted to arch too much. His grip wanted to shift.

He forced everything back into place as he lowered the bar again.

Sebastian’s hands hovered close enough to take the weight if he needed to, though Marcos had no intention of him needing to. He stood close to Marcos’ head, feet braced on either side of the bench, his thighs dangerously close. Close enough that, if Marcos looked in the wrong direction, he could start seeing up the inseam.

That wasn’t helping.

Neither was the fact that Sebastian knew exactly where he was standing.

Marcos dragged in another breath and pushed the bar up.

One more.

Marcos lowered the bar again, slower this time, chest screaming enough that his jaw tightened around the breath he was holding. The metal touched down lightly against him before he drove upward. The lift dragged. His arms shook near the top, but he locked it out and guided the bar back into place.

Marcos sat up quickly, breathing hard, and turned to face Sebastian. “Looks like you’re still the weak one.”

Sebastian’s mouth twitched before he covered it with a flat look.

“Damn, fucking big, man,” Lachie said, walking by and slapping Marcos’ shoulder.

The contact made Marcos’ chest tighten, and he rolled one shoulder back as Lachie slowed near them. Lachie was a few years older than Marcos, smaller, leaner, dark hair down to his shoulders, and had a complexion darker than Marcos’.

His eyes darted between Marcos and Sebastian. “Making Seb look small.”

“Fuck you, dude,” Sebastian said, throwing him the finger. “Like you can talk.”

Lachie laughed, stepping around gym equipment and joining Harry deeper in the gym.

“He’s right. You got noodle arms,” Marcos said, standing up, breathing deeply.

“Fuck you, too.” Sebastian rolled his shoulders. “I can lift similar to you.”

“You could never tell.”

“You really just enjoy bullying me, don’t you?”

Marcos’ voice slipped into a bad impression of Sebastian. “It’s funny.”

“Really? You’re still on about that?”

Marcos smirked, then lifted his shoulder before moving onto the next exercise, Sebastian in tow behind him.

That was how it had been for the past few weeks.