Sometimes we need a prod in the right direction before we do anything to change our lives. Brendon’s prod arrives in the form of Trent, a muscular god who pulls up in the driveway of the vacant house next door. After just a short conversation, Brendon finds himself in lust with the gym-honed stud.
Brendon is a thin, pale, boyish man of twenty-seven. Not very confident and somewhat insecure, he decides that if he is going to win the heart of a man like Trent, he is going to have to put some work in.
Brendon joins a nearby gym and sets about transforming his body. It is the hardest thing he has ever had to do. However, any time he weakens and feels like he wants to give up, he thinks of Trent falling in love with the new him. With his eye on the prize, Brendon forges ahead.
But he is in for one hell of a surprise. Just when Brendon thinks he is getting close to achieving his ultimate goal, he makes a shocking discovery.
This was all new to Brendon. The world of attractive, fit men. He’d been pretty much a loner, a non-contender, before laying eyes on Trent. Trent. The reason for this great transformation of his. Now he had thought of Trent, he stood bolt upright and threw his towel on the bench. He couldn’t get his underpants on fast enough. Not because he hadn’t enjoyed the sexual attention, but because he was feeling guilty, as if he’d betrayed his potential new boyfriend.
Both men continued to dress in silence, but when Brendon closed his locker and stepped over the slatted bench on his way out, he heard Keith say, “Hey, Brendon”.
Brendon stopped, wondering what Keith wanted to say. An apology? Unnecessary. An invitation? He couldn’t possibly accept. A compliment? He could easily handle one of those, and then he could be on his way.
“Take this,” said Keith, holding out a small rectangle of white cardboard. “It’s my number. You don’t have to use it, but I’d like you to take it.”
Brendon accepted the card and tucked it into the pocket of his tracksuit pants.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”
So as well as bumping into Keith at the gym, Brendon continued to bump into Trent. For a while they even had coffee, or an occasional beer, together. More recently, however, Trent had started declining invitations of any kind, saying he’d made other plans without saying what those other plans were. Brendon couldn’t help but feel disappointed. And, if he was honest, somewhat curious. Seeing Trent was always a highlight, but he had to accept that Trent had a life of his own. Even when they became lovers, boyfriends, partners, he’d have to allow Trent his freedom.
* * * *
By the time Trent got around to inviting Brendon to his house for dinner, Brendon had bulked up even more. Veins stood out on his arms and legs. Gone was his arctic pallor. Jogging to work meant he spent a considerable amount of time in the sun, which had transformed his complexion into a more appealing shade.
As Trent had done, Brendon arrived right on time with a bottle of chilled wine. He didn’t know much about wine, but the man at the liquor store had assured him the bottle he now held in his hand was a good quality wine that went well with either red meat or white, adding that the old ‘white wine with white meat and red wine with red meat’ rule was no longer true. Not that Brendon cared. All he wanted was something that would impress Trent.
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