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Deano's Summer: A Muscle University Story


muscleaddict

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8 hours ago, muscleaddict said:

Flirty? Are you sure about that? 🤔

Yeah. I might be wrong, but something tells me that there’s something there

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Five

“Does dad know she’s here?” I ask Josh, ignoring my mum.

He rolls his eyes. “Fuck’s sake, D!”

I look at my mum, who I haven’t seen since last October. Eight fucking months ago. She looks nervous. Good! 

“I haven’t seen you for a while!” she says.

I have to stop myself from scoffing. Because who’s fucking fault is THAT? Okay - I admit, it’s partly my fault. I could have seen her at Easter. And after Christmas. After I was supposed to see her. But I refused to. I ignored her texts and calls. And have been doing so ever since.

I don’t respond to her. I just stand there rolling my tongue around the inside of my mouth.

“How’s university?”

I shrug. “Fine!”

She nods. She’s just standing there. And Josh is just standing there. It’s so awkward. And then it hits me. This is why my brother asked me what I was doing after work today. He set this up. Or more like, she asked him to set this up. I bet my mum is who Josh was talking to on the phone the other night when we were out. That’s why he looked so suspicious. And why he couldn’t look me in the eye when he told me it was work. I knew he was lying.

I fold my arms across my chest and stare at my mum. “Good Christmas?” I ask, coldly.

“D!” Josh says sternly. Something flickers in my mum’s expression. 

“No, Josh. It’s okay. Dean - I’m sorry about what happened at Christmas.”

My stomach twists. I feel slightly less angry. 

“I should have called!”

She should have called, but she didn’t. 

“She HAS been trying to get in touch with you, D!” Josh says. Ugh. Why is he taking her side? She walked out on him as much as she walked out on me.

“Chloe’s been asking about you!” she says. “She keeps asking me if her big brother still looks like The Hulk!” 

Something pulls in my stomach.

“I’m not her brother,” I say coldly.

“Fuckin’ ell, Deano!” Josh says, sighing and shaking his head. 

Okay, maybe that was taking things too far. But it’s the truth. I’m not related to Gary's daughter. And mum is not her real mother. She just came with the guy she chose to shack up with after she abandoned her own family. It’s so fucked up. That girl sees her more than me and Josh did growing up. And she’s OUR fucking mother.

“Need a shower,” I announce. Then I spin around and walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving my traitor brother with my shit mum who I hadn’t seen for EIGHT fucking months. 

I hear them talking as I walk up the stairs. Josh sounding all sympathetic. ARGH! I’m fucking pissed off. The way Josh was talking to me. The way he rolled his eyes. Like I’m being unreasonable. Like I’m in the wrong. Like I’m the fucking bad guy in this situation. I’m sick to death of always feeling like the bad guy.

So here’s the deal with Christmas. Since mum left, it’s always just been me, dad, Josh, nan and grandad. And that’s fine. It works. Sure, it used to bother me that I didn’t see my mum on Christmas Day when I was a kid. But I got used to it. 

She’d always come round on Christmas Eve instead to give us our presents. It became a bit of a tradition I guess. Except one year when I was about twelve, she didn’t come round. She didn’t call either. I’ll never forget how I felt that night. I thought my mum had finally had enough of me. That she didn’t want to be my mum anymore.

I kinda changed a bit after that. Started getting into trouble at school. Started back chatting with the teachers and taking the piss out of certain students. Easy targets I guess. I basically turned into a right little shit.

Obviously as me and Josh got older, the Christmas Eve thing became less about my mum bringing us presents and more just about seeing her. It was just tradition that she’d come round and see us.

And then last Christmas, the same thing happened that it did when I was twelve. My mum didn’t come round on Christmas Eve. She didn’t call. She didn’t text. Until fucking BOXING DAY. I was so pissed off. I know I’m not a kid anymore but it was my first Christmas home from university and I hadn’t seen her for months. I wasn’t going to be home for months after that. And all she had to do was send a fucking text.

She tried to see me before I went back to Montgomery, but I ignored her calls and messages. Josh said she was coming round one day and I sneaked out and went round to Tony’s house to avoid seeing her.

That was last Christmas. And I guess I still haven’t forgiven her.

A few hours later I’m heading downstairs. I’m sure Josh has gone out. My dad’s in the kitchen making food. I know Josh would have told him what happened earlier.

“Alright?” he says to me as I walk in. “Want some dinner?”

“Suppose!” I say, sitting down. Dad clears his throat loudly. There’s an awkward silence.

“Did you know she was coming round?” I ask him.

“SHE has a name!” Dad says with his back to me. I scoff.

He puts a plate in front of me. “Don’t you think you’ve punished your mum for long enough?”

I pull a face and take a mouthful of rice. My dad just glares at me with his eyes narrowed then shakes his head.

“You’re a stubborn little bastard!” he says, with a little smirk. “You get that from me.”

Along with most other things.

“What did you think of Ryan?”

Pecs. Arms. ARSE. Stupidly good looking.

I shrug. “Seems alright!”

“I think he’s a good lad!” my dad replies. “Loves himself a bit though!”

I’d frigging love myself if I looked like that.

“His hair’s a bit poncey!”

I ignore him, tucking into my dinner.

“Who would have a haircut like THAT?” he says, looking at my hair pointedly and raising an eyebrow.

I can’t help it. I smile and shake my head.

“Fuckin ‘ELL!” my dad shouts. “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you bloody smile since you’ve got back!”

I furrow my eyebrows at him. That’s not true. Fuck - maybe it is.

He gently taps my foot with his under the table. “Is everything okay at university, mate?”

My stomach clenches. He only calls me mate when he’s concerned about me. “Yeah!” I say with a shrug.

He nods and looks at me suspiciously. Like he doesn’t believe me. 

“Your teachers have been okay with you since … you know?”

He’s talking about my suspension. I nod. “Mmmm.” 

Dad was naturally pissed off when I got suspended. Obviously, he knows what I did. He called me a ‘stupid little prick’. Told me to grow up and that I wasn’t at fucking school anymore. And that he couldn’t believe I didn’t think the teachers wouldn’t notice the Facebook post. Or the “stupid little prank” as he called it. He doesn’t know the real reason I posted that picture of Woody kissing Henderson on the cheek to the uni Facebook page, though. But then, not many people do.

“And those … two lads?”

My stomach twists.

“You’ve been staying out of their way?”

“YES!” I snap, as if he’s nagging me, wanting to get away from this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Good!” he says. “So how d’you feel about going to this bodybuilding expo in London with Big Steve a week on Saturday?”

“What - to work?”

“If you can call if that.”

I’ve helped out at these expos before. It mostly just involves sitting at a booth wearing a “DEANO’S GYM” t-shirt for most of the day. 

“Why aren’t you going?” I ask.

“I have that bloody physio appointment for my knee in the afternoon. Besides, I don’t need to be there. And I’ve been to dozens of these things before.”

“Mmmm!”

“You don’t have to go. I can ask one of the other lads!”

Bloody hell. What’s gotten into him? 

“It’s just a LONG day,” I say, with a sigh.

“There’ll be pro bodybuilders there. You might even see some of your uni mates.”

Fuck. My stomach clenches at the thought. What if they’re there? Smiling at each other. Knocking each other’s shoulders.

“Can I think about it?”

I don’t have to work at the gym the next day. I manage to avoid Josh, who I haven’t spoken to since the incident with mum. I’m still pissed off at him. For tricking me. For not telling me she was coming round. For the way he made out that I was in the wrong for being pissed at her.

I’m lying on my bed not doing a huge amount. It’s so frigging hot today. I’m just looking at the view from my bedroom window. I can hear the seagulls squawking. Being back home, away from all the drama at Muscle University, it feels like my life has been put on hold. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want it to come to an end. Just have the summer last forever so I can train at my dad’s gym and spend the rest of the time hiding away in my room. 

But I also can’t help thinking that there might be something out there in Brighton for me. I know, with this town being what it is and me looking the way I do, there’d be people out there who’d want to get to know me. At least for the way I look. Or to be more specific, because of my body. 

I think that’s partly why I liked the idea of getting a job instead of working at the gym. Maybe I could have actually met some of those types of people. Whether they’d want to stick around once they got to know me is another matter. Once they found out I was a loud-mouthed twat who spent months harassing two fellow students for being gay. Then publicly outed them in a world where being gay is kind of taboo. 

Some of those people in that club I walked past the other night would probably want to get to know me. But they wouldn’t be bodybuilders. They wouldn’t be him.

I pick up my phone and check Twitter. The tweet on the Deano’s Gym account me and Ryan posted at work yesterday has gotten a pitiful three likes. Which doesn’t surprise me. I don’t know why my dad even bothers with it. Twitter’s just a place for people to moan about Brexit and show off how clever they are. No one cares about a discount membership to a rundown shit hole bodybuilding gym. 

I casually check the likes, and then I see something which causes my chest to tighten. One of them is from Ryan North PT. I sit up as I check out his account. I sort of hate myself right now for being so interested in Ryan's Twitter page. He’s got a picture of himself smiling and folding his huge arms in a black t-shirt as his profile picture. The guy looks fucking good. There’s no other pics on his recent feed. It’s all pretty boring stuff. But one thing really gets my attention. There’s a link to his Instagram account in his bio.

Fuck. I’ve been managing to keep up my abstinence from Instagram, but I guess I have to check it sooner or later. Maybe it is kind of ridiculous to not check it just because there’s a chance I’ll see Woody and Henderson on there.

I click the link to Ryan’s Instagram profile and holy fuck. The first thing I see is his bare pecs. Thick and round. Even fucking better than I imagined them to be. And his abs. Which are blocky and square. And the glutes. Holy fuck the glutes. His gigantic arse looks even better in a pair of posers than it does stretching out his gym trackies. Jesus. The whole of Ryan’s physique is just incredible. Amazing shape. Brilliant aesthetics. No wonder my dad hired him. I’m also reminded of just how fucking good looking he is. And I won’t lie, I’m fucking tenting in my shorts right now. Which isn’t unusual. I’m turned on by certain, huge, shredded bodybuilders. And Ryan is one hell of a huge, shredded bodybuilder. 

Sometimes, when this happens to me, I feel kind of wrong. Like I shouldn’t be having these thoughts. But most of the time - I just go with it. Muscle makes me hard. It’s as simple as that. Okay - maybe it’s not THAT simple, but I try not to get too worked up about it. I see certain stuff, certain people. Male and female. And my body reacts. And right now, my body is fucking reacting to the Instagram shot of Ryan North blasting down into a monster crab most muscular on stage in a pair of blue posing trunks. They’re not the velvet ones which I think are awesome, but at least they’re not the really shiny kind that fucking Woody and Henderson always wear.

I type out a comment on the pic, even though it’s a few months old. “Looking pretty mint, mate!” That’s a pretty standard comment for me. I never go over the top with complimenting bodybuilders on Instagram. I’ll leave that to the likes of Woody. 

But as I go to hit send, I hesitate. Is it too much? I only met the dude yesterday. Is it weird that I’ve found him on Instagram? That I’m checking out his social media a day after meeting him?

For fuck’s sake, Deano. Stop being such a knob. He’s just a guy from work. I hit send. And I guess since I’m commenting on his pictures, I should follow him as well. And done. I’m now following Ryan North PT - Deano’s Gym’s latest personal trainer. 

But then - I get this weird and unexpected flutter of excitement at the thought of Ryan seeing that I’ve followed him. Of him reading the comment and approving of it. Maybe even liking it. Of him following me back and checking out the pictures on my Instagram page. Of him looking at my competition shots and occasional topless selfies and being impressed by how much of a jacked up little pocket rocket I am.

I scroll down Ryan’s page. My chest tightens when I spot a picture of him with a blonde girl. I click on it and read the caption where he’s calling her “his beautiful girl” and I swear my heart actually drops a little. Which is fucking ridiculous. Because of course Ryan has a girlfriend. He’s a six foot tall champion bodybuilder with an amazing physique. And he’s good looking. STUPIDLY good looking. 

I close the app and put my phone down on my bed, resisting the urge to check the main feed of posts from the people I follow. But now I’m thinking about Woody. And I’m wondering if he’s updated his page. Wondering if there’s any clue on there as to what he’s been up to this week. And whether he’s seen Henderson. Surely he wouldn’t have? Not this early on in the summer anyway. He’ll be at his parent’s in Surrey. Henderson will be at his mum’s wherever she lives up North. His dad passed away. I remember him telling me that. I don’t know why, but the memory of that is so clear. One of those memories that seems to be lodged in my brain for whatever reason. Maybe it’s better if I just look at Woody’s profile now. I’m going to end up seeing something eventually.

Fuck it. I pick up my phone, my chest tightening. I go to his profile. I know it by heart (woody_bodybuilder). And FUCK. There they are. On his very latest picture posted two days ago. Woody and Luke smiling into the camera. Luke in those stupid glasses. Woody wearing that ridiculous Johnny Bravo t-shirt which I know Henderson bought for him because he never wore anything like that before he showed up. And the location is Woody’s parents in Surrey. This heavy feeling of sadness hits me. Because they look … happy. They look SO fucking happy.

I throw my phone on the bed. Why the FUCK did I look? I look out my bedroom window again. Their smiling faces are embedded in my brain. I pick up my phone and reply to the message Tony sent me yesterday.

Tony you skinny cunt. Wanna do that drinking session tonight? I’m in the mood to get shit faced.

I hit send and close my eyes. I don’t know what I’m feeling. This horrible, crippling mix of anger and confusion. And like I want to forget. Like I want to go crazy. I suddenly have this strong desire to go crazy.

Tony texts back with an enthusiastic yes. I go downstairs and rummage through my dad’s liquor cabinet and take a swig of something sharp which takes like aniseed. I shudder as it burns my mouth. It tastes fucking gross. I look at the bottle, then I put it to my lips again, tip my head back and just keep chugging.

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So I’m commenting on 4 as I was not a member while reading . The banter between Deano and Pops in the car really did it for me!!! The way you have created their interactions is priceless !! I laughed out loud at the clock to Deano’s head.

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22 hours ago, WashburnDaddy said:

Well, this is getting deep. Beautifully written.

 

19 hours ago, crushme99 said:

This is magnificent writing.  Really.  Truly.

Thank you both for those lovely words.

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7 hours ago, JohnnyCoxx said:

So I’m commenting on 4 as I was not a member while reading . The banter between Deano and Pops in the car really did it for me!!! The way you have created their interactions is priceless !! I laughed out loud at the clock to Deano’s head.

Thanks for commenting, mate. I'm glad you're enjoying it. I have to say I did really enjoy writing some of the interactions between Deano and his dad. 😜

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