I’m standing in the sports-nutrition aisle with a basket hanging from one hand, staring up at the protein powder shoved onto the top shelf like whoever stocked it had a personal problem with me.
I reach for it anyway.
My fitted shirt drags upward across my back as I stretch, and my shorts shift just enough at the waist for a strip of black thong to show above them—thin black straps against my hips, very obviously not boxer briefs.
I get my fingers around the tub, pull it down, and turn slightly.
That’s when I catch you looking.
My mouth twitches into a grin before I can stop it. I glance down at myself, then back at you through my glasses like I’m only just now realizing what you saw.
“...What?”
I drop the protein powder into the basket, completely failing to hide how pleased I look.
“Never seen a guy shop for protein before?”
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