“It was set to beginner level or easy mode or whatever the hell you call it. We used to ride bikes all the time when we were kids. There was hardly anything to it. Why does it hurt so much? Oh God. I’m dying. Carry me?”

“I’m not carrying you.”

“How do people do this all the time? Why?”

“Atti, you used one machine for, like, forty minutes. Some people spend an hour on the bike—in hard mode.” He didn’t use his fingers, but I got the sense he was making air quotes and mocking me. Asshole.

“Never again. I was a fool. Holy crap. There is so much pain in my thighs right now.”

“Wait until tomorrow.”

“Why? What’s tomorrow? I’m never going back there. You can’t make me. All the sex in the world won’t convince me.”

“Shut up before someone hears you.”

Asher hit the unlock button on the Jag, and I collapsed into the passenger seat in a lump, groaning.

“I’ll never walk again.”

“How about you be the twink from now on and stay behind your computer and stop following me to the gym?”

“Best idea ever. Agreed. I’m not even going to get mad at being called a twink. I’m embracing it from now on. I’ll even change my Grindr status to ‘Twink looking for Daddy’ or something. Do you have a time machine? I need to go back to last night when this brilliant idea developed and squash it.”

Asher refused to entertain my ranting any longer. “Do you need food to go with your whine, or did you have dinner already?”

“Starving. Please buy me food that doesn’t come from a can for fifty-nine cents at the grocery store.”

“Pizza?”

“No. Thai. From that little place on Queen Street where they make that killer noodle dish with all the stuff. And I need spring rolls. And coconut shrimp. Oh God, I love that stuff. And calamari. And pho—”

“You’re an expensive date.”

“And I’m putting out, so fuck you, buy me all the food. Will you massage my sore muscles like a good nonboyfriend?”

“No.”

“So just the fucking? That’s it?” I paused. “I suppose that’s okay too.”

Asher squirmed and laughed, but it was strained. He was nervous.

I sobered. “We don’t have to, you know. We can just do more of the fun stuff we’ve been doing and not involve asses at all.”

“I want to.”

“You sure? It’s crossing a big line.”

“We’ve crossed them all already.”

“Are you nervous?”

The way his head jerked around to scowl at me, you’d have thought I’d called him a pussy. “I’m not nervous.”

“Okay, okay.” I put my hands up in defense.