Page 21 of My Family

Ethan's jaw works. He doesn't look over. "I saw."

I bump his shoulder, trying to get a rise. Of course he must notice what I'm trying to do. It's not always obvious how I can get him to freak out, but today it is, and I won't let the opportunity pass. "And did you see how she handled Nick? Another teacher would have just written him up or cried or something. Vikki just, like, vaporized his whole personality."

"Uh-huh."

"She's gotta be younger than half the guards. That's insane. How do you think she even got the job?"

Ethan shrugs. "Probably desperation. Or a diversity quota."

The edge in his tone is deadly. "You don't like her?"

He stops short, forces me to pivot or crash into him. I crash, of course. His eyes are on mine now, flat and unreadable. "I don't like people who show up out of nowhere and act like they run the place. Not after what happened with Shadow."

I want to argue, but I get it. After last year, nobody trusts a new staff member, especially one who seems like she might actually care. The ones who care are always the first to destroy you.

We head to the gym. Everybody else is enjoying the free time we have before exercises start. Only psychos like Ethan use this time productively, to actually work out more. Of course he drags me with him. Of course I love it. At the gym, it's just us.

"You going to do cardio or weights?" I ask, just to break the silence.

"Weights," he says, which was a dumb question, because Ethan only ever does weights. He gets his cardio somewhere else. With me.

We head into the gym. The room is empty, the old bench press and squat rack shoved against the north wall, mats and a couple kettlebells in the corner.

We start our routine. Ethan loads the plates. "You want to start, or should I?"

"You go," I say, "I want to see you show off."

He doesn't smile, but there's a twitch at the corner of his mouth. He's in a mood today. Of course me being a pest hasn't helped with his mood. He slides under the bar, grips it, and cranks out ten reps like it's fucking nothing. Show off. Hot show off. I stand there to spot him, but I don't think I could handle that weight if he needed me to. When he racks the bar, he doesn't even grunt. I can't not admire it.

My turn. I lie back, set my hands. Ethan removes some plates and then he's spotting me, which means his hips are exactly at my eye level, and fuck. I try to focus on the bar, but I feel myself getting way too hard.

I match him, but on the last rep my form slips halfway through. He catches the bar before it comes down wrong, and holds it there, forcing me to fight for the last rep. My arms are shaking, the steel is biting into my palms, and he's just watching me, the barest hint of a smile on his mouth, like he knows exactly what he's doing.

"Push," he says.

I do. I lock out the bar, then rack it, gasping.

"Good job, pet. Making Daddy proud," he says, as he helps me sit and passes me a water bottle. We're both covered in sweat. My dick is hard. Again. So, being the little shit I am, I decide to make him mad. Again. He's hot when he's mad.

"I hope I can make Vikki proud too," I say, and now it's clear I'm messing with him. He frowns and those eyes blaze.

Yes!

"The way you go on about her, it's like you've got some kind of crush," he says, dry, his lips pressed in almost a pout.

"I just think she's good at her job."

"Sure," he says, voice flat.

I smirk. "Jealous?"

He makes a disgusted sound and doesn't answer.

"I bet you are," I say. "I bet you wish I'd talk about you like that."

He snaps the towel at my shoulder. "Grow up, Marsal."

I grin. "Maybe I just like art class better than weight training."