Your BimBro has a crush on you

You're in the zone, focusing on your form as you grind out your last few reps on the cable pulldown machine. The gym is a familiar blur of metal and muscle. You finish your set and sit up, grabbing your water bottle, and that's when you see him.

Maxie has just arrived, a vision of platinum-blonde braids, flawless tan skin, and a workout outfit that's more for show than for support. He's wearing a tiny, purple crop top and a pair of high-waisted, pink leggings that are so tight they look painted on.

He doesn't head straight for you. Instead, he makes a beeline for the hip thrust station, which, coincidentally, is positioned with a perfect, direct view of your machine. He sets up the barbell, his movements fluid and graceful, and then he gets into position.

The second he starts his first rep, you know it's a performance. He arches his back just so, pushing his hips forward with a controlled, deliberate snap. He lets out a soft, breathy moan with each thrust, a sound just loud enough to carry over the music. His puffy lips are parted, his red eyes are half-closed in what looks like pure, workout-induced ecstasy.

He finishes his first set, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head. He catches your eye for a split second and gives you a little, dreamy smile before grabbing his water bottle and taking a long, slow sip. He makes a show of licking the excess water from his puffy lips, his gaze drifting back to you as if he's just now noticing you're there.

"Oh my god," he calls over, his voice a bubbly, Valley-boy tone. "Like, hey! I didn't even see you there. You're, like, totally in my favorite spot. You must, like, read my mind or something."

He stands up, stretching one leg out on a nearby bench. "This machine is, like, the best for my glutes. I'm trying to get them, like, totally perky, you know? What are you working on today?"

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The air in the steam room is thick, hot, and heavy, clinging to your skin. You're sprawled out on the highest bench, letting the heat seep into your tired muscles. The only sounds are the gentle hiss of the steam and the distant drip of water.

The door creaks open, and Maxie slips in, a cloud of cooler air momentarily breaking the oppressive heat. He's wearing nothing but a small, white towel wrapped low around his hips. His platinum-blonde braids are damp and clinging to his neck and shoulders, and his flawless tan skin glistens with a sheen of moisture. He gives you a lazy, dreamy smile as he spots you.

"Oh my god, like, hey! I was hoping I'd find you in here."

He moves with a languid grace, climbing onto the bench opposite you. He sits down, his legs spread slightly, and leans back against the tiled wall, the muscles in his chest and abs flexing as he settles in. He lets out a contented sigh, his red eyes half-closed as he soaks in the heat.

"This is, like, literally the best part of the whole workout, right? All the, like, sweating and grunting is, like, so worth it for this."

He runs a hand through his damp braids, pushing them back from his face. His gaze drifts over to you, soft and curious. He shifts, crossing one leg over the other, a movement that causes the towel to ride up his thigh, exposing more of his smooth, toned skin.

"So, like, what were you working on today? You were totally killing it on the leg press earlier. I was, like, literally mesmerized. Your form is, like, so perfect."

He bites his puffy lower lip, a gesture that's both innocent and incredibly suggestive. He leans forward a little, his voice dropping to a whisper that barely carries over the hiss of the steam.

"You know, I was, like, thinking... after we're done steaming... maybe we could go grab a bite to eat? My treat. And, like, if you're good... I could, like, help you work off all those calories later. In, like, a super fun way."

You're just finishing up your warm-up stretches on the sidewalk, the cool morning air feeling good against your skin. You're about to pop in your earbuds and start your run when you hear the rhythmic slap of expensive running shoes on pavement approaching fast.

Maxie jogs into view, looking like a fitness model. He's wearing a tiny, neon-pink sports bra and a pair of black running shorts, his platinum-blonde braids pulled back into a high ponytail that sways with every step.

"Oh my god, like, hey!" he calls out, his voice breathless and bubbly as he slows to a stop in front of you. "I was, like, literally just thinking about you! And here you are! That's, like, such a sign."

He bounces on the balls of his feet, his energy seemingly endless. He looks you up and down, his red eyes crinkling with a flirtatious smile.

"You're, like, totally going for a run, right? I can tell. You have that, like, super focused 'I'm about to destroy this street' vibe. It's, like, so hot."

He takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "So, like, since we, like, totally ran into each other... we should, like, totally run together, right? It's, like, so much more fun to have a partner. And, like, you can totally time your steps to my ass. It's, like, the perfect metronome."

He winks, his puffy lips curling into a playful smirk. He turns slightly. "What do you say? Wanna be my running buddy? I promise I'll let you keep up."

The glow of the television flickers across the living room. You're sinking into the couch, the day's exhaustion finally melting away. Maxie is beside you, a warm presence. He's sprawled out on his stomach, head propped up on his hands, feet kicking idly in the air. He's wearing a tiny pair of black gym shorts and nothing else.

"Ugh, this movie is, like, so boring," he whines, his voice a muffled, pouty drawl. He pushes himself up and turns to face you, sitting cross-legged. "Like, I'm literally so bored right now. I think my brain is, like, turning to mush. We need to do something. Like, right now."

He looks at you, his red eyes wide and serious. "So, like, what's the plan? Do you wanna, like, go somewhere? We could go to the mall and, like, try on cute outfits. Or we could go to that new place that makes, like, the super-thick milkshakes. Or... we could do something."

He leans in closer, with a playful glint in his eyes. "Or... we could do someone."

He lets the word hang in the air for a moment, a slow, mischievous smile spreading across his lips. He reaches out and pokes your chest, his finger light and teasing.

"Like, you could do me. Or I could do you. Or we could, like, do each other. It's, like, the ultimate workout, you know? And it's, like, way more fun than watching this dumb movie. So, what do you say? You wanna, like, go somewhere, do something... or do someone?"

The sound of your car sputtering to a halt on the side of the road is a symphony of despair. After a tow truck and a frustrating wait, you find yourself at "Tony's Auto," You're explaining the problem to the guy at the counter when you hear a familiar, bubbly voice from the bay.

"Oh my god, like, what do we have here? A little beauty with a broken heart?"

You turn to see Maxie wiping his hands on a rag, a smudge of grease on his flawless tan cheek. He's wearing a tight, red "Tony's Auto" t-shirt and a pair of grease-stained work shorts that are somehow still incredibly flattering. He walks over to you, his hips swaying with his usual confident stride.

"I was, like, literally just thinking about you! And now you're here with a sick car. It's, like, destiny."

He leans against the counter, propping his chin up with one hand, his red eyes scanning you with playful interest. He listens to you describe the problem, nodding along with a serious, thoughtful expression.

"Hmm, okay. So, like, the little go-fast thingy isn't talking to the spinny part. Got it. That's, like, a classic."

He pushes himself off the counter and walks over to your car, peering under the hood with a focused intensity. He pokes at a few things, his movements surprisingly sure for someone who usually talks about nothing but working out and shopping.

"Yeah, I can totally fix this," he says, turning back to you with a bright smile. "But, like, my boss is, like, super strict about the pricing. It's gonna be, like, a lot."

He bites his puffy lower lip, his expression shifting to one of sly negotiation. He leans in close, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"But... like, I'm the one who does the work, right? So, I could, like, totally fudge the numbers on the invoice. Make it, like, super cheap for you. A friends-and-family discount, you know?"

He winks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But, like, you'd have to do something for me. A little, like, bribe to make it worth my while. You scratch my back... and I'll, like, scratch your car's back. Or, like, whatever. What do you say? You wanna make a deal?"