Heavy Lifting: A Gym Romance

The first time Ryan saw Elijah, he was doing something impossible with a barbell.

At least it looked impossible to Ryan, who had not been inside a gym since college and had spent the last fifteen years slowly allowing his body to become something he avoided looking at in mirrors. The man was performing some kind of overhead press with what appeared to be more weight than Ryan could have lifted off the ground, and he made it look effortless.

Ryan stood in the doorway of Iron House Fitness, clutching the free trial pass his therapist had guilt-tripped him into getting, and seriously considered leaving.

"You must be Ryan."

He turned to find a woman behind the front desk smiling at him. Her name tag said JESSICA and her arms suggested she could probably bench press him.

"Uh. Yes. I have an appointment? For a consultation?"

"With Elijah. He's just finishing up." She gestured toward the impossible barbell man. "Have a seat. He'll be with you in five."

Ryan sat. He watched Elijah rack the weight, grab a towel, and wipe down his face before turning toward the front desk. And then Ryan got his first real look at him.

Elijah was tall, probably six-two or six-three, with dark skin that gleamed with exertion and a body that looked like it had been carved from obsidian. But it was his face that caught Ryan's attention. He had kind eyes. Warm, despite the intimidating physique. When he smiled at Jessica, it transformed his whole expression into something approachable.

"Ryan?" Elijah extended a hand as he approached. "I'm Eli. Good to meet you."

"You too." Ryan's handshake was too soft. He knew it was too soft. He was suddenly aware of every physical inadequacy he possessed.

"Let's go somewhere quieter and talk about what you're looking to accomplish."

They ended up in a small office off the main gym floor. Elijah sat across from him with a clipboard and a pen, radiating a kind of patient attentiveness that made Ryan want to confess everything.

"So," Elijah began. "What brings you to Iron House?"

"Honestly? My therapist suggested it. I'm going through a divorce, and she thinks I need to reconnect with my body or something like that." Ryan laughed awkwardly. "I'm not really sure what that means, but here I am."

"I'm sorry about the divorce. That's rough."

"It's been rough. We were married for twelve years."

"Kids?"

"No. We tried, but it never happened. Probably for the best, given how things turned out."

Elijah nodded, making a note. "And what's your history with exercise?"

"Nonexistent. I mean, I played basketball in high school, but after that... I sat behind a desk for fifteen years and ate a lot of takeout."

"That's more common than you'd think. What are your goals? If you could wave a magic wand, what would you want?"

Ryan thought about it. "I want to feel like myself again. I don't even know what that means anymore, but I remember being... I don't know. Comfortable in my body. Like it was something I lived in instead of something I dragged around."

Elijah's expression softened. "That's a good goal. One of the best I've heard, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Most people come in here wanting to lose twenty pounds or get abs or look good for some event. Those are fine goals, but they're external. What you're describing is internal. You want to have a relationship with your body again."

Ryan blinked. "I never thought about it like that."

"That's what I'm here for." Elijah smiled, and Ryan felt something shift in his chest. "So here's what I propose. We start with three sessions a week. Nothing too intense at first. We'll assess where you are, build a foundation, and go from there. I'll also put together some nutritional guidelines, but I'm not going to put you on some crazy diet. We're looking for sustainable changes."

"That sounds... actually reasonable."

"Fitness isn't punishment, Ryan. It's self-care. The goal isn't to hate yourself thin. It's to love yourself strong."

Ryan had to look away. Something about the way Elijah said that made his eyes sting.

"When do we start?"

The first month was brutal.

Not because Elijah pushed him too hard. Quite the opposite. Elijah was patient, encouraging, and frustratingly good at knowing exactly when Ryan was approaching his limit. The brutality came from Ryan himself, from seeing how far he had let himself fall, from confronting years of neglect every time he struggled with a weight that Elijah lifted with one hand.

"Stop comparing," Elijah said during their third week, after catching Ryan staring at another gym member's physique. "You're competing with who you were yesterday. No one else."

"Easy to say when you look like that."

"Like what?"

"Like a Greek god had a baby with a superhero."

Elijah laughed, a deep sound that Ryan felt in his sternum. "You know how long it took me to look like this? Fifteen years. And I started when I was eighteen, when my body was primed for building muscle. You're starting at forty-two. It's a different game."

"So I'll never look like you."

"You'll look like you. The best version of you. And that's going to be better than any comparison."

Ryan wanted to believe him. Some days he did.

The changes came slowly, then all at once. By month two, he could do twenty push-ups without stopping. By month three, he had visible definition in his arms for the first time since college. His clothes fit differently. His posture improved. He caught himself standing straighter, taking up more space.

But the biggest changes were internal.

Ryan started sleeping better. The nightmares about his failed marriage faded. He found himself thinking about the future instead of the past. And increasingly, he found himself thinking about Elijah.

He tried not to. Elijah was his trainer. They had a professional relationship. The fact that Ryan's heart rate spiked every time Elijah adjusted his form or spotted him on a lift was just... adrenaline. Exercise. Endorphins. It did not mean anything.

Except it clearly did.

Ryan had been married to a woman. Had dated women exclusively his entire adult life. Had never seriously questioned his sexuality beyond a few confusing moments in high school that he had written off as normal experimentation. But something about Elijah made all those old questions resurface with new urgency.

Was this attraction? Was this just admiration for what Elijah had accomplished physically? Was there a difference?

"You're distracted today," Elijah observed during a session in their fourth month. "Everything okay?"

"Fine. Just thinking."

"About?"

"Nothing important."

Elijah set down the weight he had been demonstrating with and gave Ryan his full attention. "Ryan. I've been training you for four months. I can tell when something's bothering you. Talk to me."

"It's not something I can talk about. Not with you."

"Why not?"

Because I think I might be falling for you, Ryan did not say. Because I think about you constantly. Because I've started having dreams about you that would definitely violate our professional relationship.

"It's personal," he said instead.

Elijah nodded slowly. "Okay. I won't push. But if you ever want to talk, I'm here. And not just as your trainer."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I consider us friends, Ryan. At least, I hope we are."

"We are. I just..." Ryan trailed off, unsure how to finish.

"Take your time. Figure out what you need. I'm not going anywhere."

The breakthrough came at month five, in the locker room of all places.

Ryan had finished his session and was getting changed when Elijah came in, fresh from training another client. They nodded at each other, and Elijah headed to his locker, which was unfortunately close to Ryan's.

Ryan tried not to look. He really did. But then Elijah pulled off his shirt, and Ryan's gaze traveled of its own accord across the planes of his back, the definition of his shoulders, the way his skin stretched over muscle like it had been designed to be admired.

Elijah turned around and caught him staring.

For a terrible moment, neither of them spoke. Ryan felt his face go hot, felt the panic rising in his chest, felt fifteen years of carefully constructed denial crumbling around him.

"Sorry," he managed. "I wasn't—I mean, I didn't—"

"Ryan." Elijah's voice was quiet. Calm. "It's okay."

"It's not. I shouldn't have—you're my trainer, and I—"

"Ryan." Elijah stepped closer. Close enough that Ryan could smell him, clean sweat and something woodsy underneath. "Breathe."

Ryan breathed.

"How long?" Elijah asked.

"How long what?"

"How long have you been looking at me like that?"

There was no judgment in the question. No disgust. Just curiosity, and something else Ryan could not quite identify.

"Months," Ryan admitted. "I don't know. Maybe since the beginning. I've been trying not to. I know it's inappropriate. I know you're just doing your job. I know—"

"What if I've been looking at you the same way?"

Ryan's brain short-circuited.

"What?"

Elijah smiled, that warm smile that had undone Ryan from day one. "You think I haven't noticed, Ryan? You think I've been adjusting your form and spotting your lifts for five months without noticing how my hands feel on your body? Without noticing the way you lean into my touch?"

"But you never said anything."

"You were my client. You were going through a divorce. You were figuring yourself out. It wasn't my place to complicate that." Elijah's expression turned serious. "But if you're asking me if I'm interested? Yes. I've been interested since you stood in the doorway that first day looking like you were about to bolt."

"I was about to bolt."

"I know. I'm glad you didn't."

Ryan did not know who moved first. Maybe they both did. But suddenly Elijah's mouth was on his, and Ryan was being kissed by a man for the first time in his life, and it felt like everything he had been denying himself for decades came rushing back at once.

Elijah kissed like he trained: patient, thorough, attentive to every response. His hands cupped Ryan's face with a gentleness that contradicted their strength. When he pulled back, Ryan chased his mouth without thinking.

"Easy," Elijah murmured. "We've got time."

"We're in the locker room."

"Yeah. Probably not the best location for this conversation." Elijah laughed softly. "Have dinner with me?"

"Dinner?"

"That's usually how these things work. You go somewhere, you eat food, you talk. Get to know each other outside of sets and reps."

"I already know you."

"You know me as your trainer. I want you to know me as..." Elijah paused, choosing his words. "As someone who wants to be part of your life. If you want that too."

Ryan thought about his marriage. Twelve years of trying to be someone he was not. Twelve years of wondering why intimacy felt like performance, why sex felt like obligation, why he never quite felt connected to his wife no matter how hard they both tried.

"I want that," he said. "I don't know how to do this. I've never been with a man. I've never even admitted to myself that I wanted to be with a man. But I want to try. With you."

Elijah's smile could have lit up the room.

"Then let's try."

They took things slow. Elijah insisted on it, even when Ryan would have happily rushed headlong into everything.

"You're rediscovering yourself," Elijah said on their third date, a walk along the waterfront that had turned into three hours of talking. "That takes time. I don't want to be someone you experimented with and regretted."

"I wouldn't regret you."

"You don't know that yet. You've been straight your whole life. This is new territory."

"Were you always attracted to men?"

Elijah shook his head. "I dated women in college. Even got engaged once. But there was always something missing. I didn't figure out what until I was about your age, actually. Met a guy at a fitness conference, and suddenly everything clicked."

"What happened?"

"We dated for a few years. It didn't work out for reasons that had nothing to do with gender. But it taught me who I was." Elijah took Ryan's hand as they walked, casual and natural. "You'll figure it out too. Just give yourself permission to explore."

Ryan was giving himself permission. To feel things he had suppressed. To notice men in ways he had trained himself not to. To imagine a future that looked different from anything he had planned.

The first time they slept together was six weeks after the locker room kiss.

Elijah had cooked dinner at his apartment—he was an excellent cook, another surprise—and they had been sitting on the couch talking when Ryan had simply run out of patience. He had pulled Elijah toward him and kissed him with all the hunger he had been holding back.

Things escalated from there.

Elijah took his time, which Ryan would later learn was just how he approached everything. He undressed Ryan slowly, checking in at every step. He asked what felt good, what Ryan wanted, what he was comfortable with. The attention was overwhelming.

"You don't have to—" Ryan started.

"I want to." Elijah pressed a kiss to his chest, his stomach, the jut of his hip. "I've been thinking about this for months. Let me enjoy it."

Ryan let him.

What followed was a revelation. Not just physically, though that was extraordinary enough. Ryan had never experienced sex as collaboration before, as something built together rather than performed for each other. Elijah paid attention to every response, adjusted based on what worked, communicated openly about what he wanted in return.

When Ryan finally came apart, Elijah's name on his lips and Elijah's hand stroking him through it, he understood for the first time what intimacy was supposed to feel like.

Afterward, lying in Elijah's bed with their legs tangled together, Ryan said, "I wasted so much time."

"You didn't waste it. You were living the life you thought you were supposed to live. That's not the same thing."

"I could have had this. Years ago. If I had just let myself—"

"Stop." Elijah propped himself up to look at Ryan. "You're here now. That's what matters. You can't change the past, but you can build a different future."

"A future with you?"

Elijah's expression softened. "If you want one."

"I want one."

"Then that's what we'll build."

A year later, Ryan stood in front of the mirror in the gym bathroom and barely recognized himself.

He had lost thirty pounds and gained fifteen in muscle. His posture was straight, his shoulders broad, his arms defined. But more than the physical changes, something in his eyes had shifted. He looked present. Alive. Like someone who inhabited his body instead of just occupying it.

Elijah appeared behind him, wrapping arms around his waist.

"Admiring the view?"

"Trying to figure out who that guy is."

"That's you, Ryan. The real you. The one who was hiding all those years."

Ryan turned in his arms. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"I know. I love you too."

They had said it for the first time three months ago, and Ryan still felt a thrill every time. He had never said those words to anyone and meant them so completely.

"What do you think about moving in together?" Ryan asked.

"I think that's a conversation we should have somewhere other than a gym bathroom."

"I'm serious, Eli."

Elijah smiled, that warm smile that still undid Ryan every time. "I'm serious too. And my answer is yes. Whenever you're ready."

Ryan kissed him, right there in the bathroom where anyone could walk in. He did not care anymore. He had spent too many years caring what people thought, hiding parts of himself, performing a version of life that had never fit.

He was done hiding.

"I'm ready," he said. "I've been ready since you told me that fitness wasn't punishment."

"It's self-care."

"The goal isn't to hate yourself thin."

"It's to love yourself strong." Elijah finished the phrase and kissed him again. "You've been paying attention."

"I pay attention to everything you say."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

Elijah's smile turned mischievous. "Then let's go home and I'll tell you exactly what I want to do with you tonight."

Ryan felt heat flood through him. "We haven't finished the session."

"I'm the trainer. I say we're done early today."

They left the gym together, hands intertwined, walking into a future neither of them had planned but both of them wanted.

The heaviest thing Ryan had ever lifted turned out to be his own heart. But with Elijah beside him, he had finally found the strength to carry it.

And that made all the difference.