A Chance Encounter
I strolled up the familiar path to Brian’s house, the mid-afternoon sun warming my tanned skin. Brian and I had been buddies since kindergarten, when my folks purchased the house next door, almost 15 years ago. I was coming from the gym, my muscles were tight and swollen from the workout. Smirking to myself, I tensed my pecs absentmindedly, the snug fabric of my tank showing off the defined outline of my chest.
When I knocked on the door, it wasn’t Brian who opened the door. Instead, it was his older brother, Allan. I saw him often, but he wasn’t someone I spent much time with. Brian’s brother had this quiet, serious vibe, like he lived in his head more than the real world.
“Hey,” I said, surprised.
He stood there, blinking up at me. He was wearing a neat polo shirt, probably ironed, and jeans that looked one size too loose. He wasn’t like me. Allan was... shorter, slender, fidgety. Allan still lived at home while working on a PhD in something really niche, I didn’t really keep track of him. He wasn’t a bad guy—just... different.
“Brian’s not here,” Allan said, his voice soft but steady. “I think he’s got class or something...”
I shifted, letting my broad shoulders fill the doorway. “You mind if I hang out until he gets back? I was hoping to use the pool.”
“Oh,” he said, his lips twitching like he was considering the implications of his response. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Come in.”
After stepping inside, I was surprised that Allan’s movements appeared a little hesitant. For someone who was eight years older than me, I thought it strange how uncertain he seemed, especially with me, in his own home. I’d grown up next door and had been in and out of this place countless times—hanging out with Brian, crashing on the couch after practice, or jumping the fence to use the pool in the summer. Allan was often around, but more like a shadow in the background, quiet and reserved, usually doing his own thing.
Today, though, it felt like my presence had thrown him off balance. He seemed unsure of where to stand or even how to look at me, like I was a stranger he didn’t quite know how to entertain.
“Can I get some water?” I asked casually.
He nodded quickly and led me to the kitchen, his steps too quick, too quiet, like he was trying to avoid making a sound. I followed at an easy pace, watching the subtle tension in his shoulders as he grabbed a glass from the cupboard. There was something about the way he moved—deliberate yet cautious—that caught my attention.
When he turned to hand me the glass, I noticed the faint blush creeping up his neck and spreading to his cheeks. His fingers brushed mine briefly as I took it, and his eyes darted away, as though the contact had burned him. For a split second, he stood there frozen, his lips pressed together, before stepping back, like he was trying to regain his composure.
“Thanks,” I said, raising my glass and focussing on him longer than necessary.
This was when it struck me, in the 15 years that I’d known Allan, this was the first time we’d been alone together. Usually, Allan was just Brian’s older brother. In the earlier years, a sometimes-babysitter to keep Brian and me from getting into trouble and more recently, a quiet presence, very much on the periphery. As a result, Allan had never made much of an impression on me. He’d struck me as someone who blended in rather than claiming the spotlight. And now, with no one else around, there was more, I could feel his nervous energy. As I stood near him, there was something unexpectedly... appealing about how he seemed unsettled. Something about it made me want to see if I could get a reaction from him.
As I took my first sip of water, my bicep swelled, the peak rounding sharply and defined. A thick vein ran up from my elbow, curving over the hard muscle, giving it an even more exaggerated, sculpted appearance. It’s just how my muscles work. The movement of my arm immediately captured Allan’s attention. His lips parted slightly, and for a second, he froze, like he’d forgotten where he was.
It was enough to confirm my suspicion—he was checking me out. Maybe not consciously, but I could see it in the way his eyes lingered. The air between us grew heavier, and the silence stretched for a beat too long.
I took the opportunity to size him up properly, seeing him differently now. Slim but defined, with a baby face that made him look younger than his 28 years. He would pass for early 20s without a second thought. His hair was slightly tousled, his glasses perched neatly on his nose, and his features were soft, refined. For the first time, it occurred to me that Allan was cute and there was something about his vibe that made me curious. It drew me in more than I expected, and I realized I didn’t just want to figure him out. I wanted to see what he’d do if I pushed him out of his comfort zone.
With that thought, I took another slow sip of my drink, letting my arm flex just enough to see if he’d take the bait again.
Allan shifted in his chair, his posture stiffening as his eyes darted between my thick bicep and the glass, lingering just a moment too long before he looked away, his cheeks deepening in colour. The movement seemed involuntary, like he couldn’t help himself, and he adjusted his position again, crossing one leg over the other. He cleared his throat, the sound sharp and awkward, cutting through the stillness.
“You just come from the gym?” he blurted, the words rushed, like he wanted to fill the silence and distract from whatever had just passed between us.
The redness in his cheeks deepened as soon as he spoke, and I couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah. Chest day,” I said, shifting my stance just enough to make my pecs pull tighter against my tank top. The motion was subtle, but it had the desired effect.
His eyes darted toward my chest, quick and guilty. “You can probably tell,” I added, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Uh, yeah,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Allan’s reactions to me and my gestures were beyond flattering. They were intriguing. He seemed to shrink a little in my company, his movements hesitant, like he wasn’t sure where he belonged in his own home.
“Let’s chill a bit,” I said, nodding toward the family room. It wasn’t really a suggestion, and Allan seemed to pick up on that. He nodded quickly and led the way, his steps too fast, like he was rushing to escape the tension hanging between us.
I claimed the couch with a relaxed sprawl. My arms stretched across the backrest, my shoulders filling the space. I leaned back into the cushions, my chest naturally pushing forward. Every motion felt casual, but it was more than that. It was my way of seeing how Allan would react to the presence I brought into the room.
Allan perched stiffly on the edge of the armchair, his posture rigid. His hands clung to his knees like they were the only thing keeping him steady. His gaze darted between my arms, my chest, my legs—hovering for a second too long on each before snapping away, only to sneak back moments later. I let the silence linger, watching the way he shifted in his seat, clearly struggling with whatever thoughts were running through his head.
“So, this is... uh, different,” Allan finally said, his voice tense but trying for normalcy. His hands were restless in his lap as he glanced around the room, like he was searching for something to focus on other than me.
I raised an eyebrow, watching him fumble. He was trying, I’d give him that, but his awkwardness only served to make him more endearing. Allan wasn’t used to this kind of attention—especially not from someone like me. That much was obvious, and it made me wonder: was he uncomfortable because I was Brian’s friend, or was there something more?
“Is it? I’m here all the time,” I replied, my tone easy, teasing him just enough to see if he’d bite.
Allan glanced at me briefly, his lips pressing together before he nodded toward the couch. “Yeah, but it’s usually with Brian.” His voice was soft, careful, like he was testing the waters.
I put my glass down and took a deep breath, “Well, Brian’s not here. Guess it’s just us today.” I let the words hang in the air, watching as he became distracted by my tank stretching tight against my chest. I was enjoying this.
“So dude, tell me you’ve been.” I reached up lazily to scratch my abs through the loose hem of my tank. The motion lifted the fabric just enough to reveal a few of the defined bricks of my shredded abs. I smirked as Allan locked onto the movement before he caught himself and looked away, his face flushing.
I let my hand drop back onto the couch, pleased with myself as I leaned forward slightly. “You good, Allan? You seem... distracted.” My voice carried just enough edge to make him squirm.
“What? No! I mean...” He stammered, his blush deepening as he looked down at his lap. “I’m fine. Really.”
I chuckled softly, leaning back again and letting my arms drape across the backrest. “Relax, man. It’s just me, dude.” My grin widened as I watched his shoulders stiffen. “What’s got you so up tight?”
Allan hesitated, his hands moving about restlessly. “I’m not... uptight,” he muttered, his tone unconvincing.
“Sure, you’re not,” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “You always sit like that? Perched on the edge of your seat like you’re about to take off?”
He blinked, startled, and glanced at his posture, clearly self-conscious. “I just... I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his gaze darting away. He rolled his shoulders, like he was trying to relax. It didn’t work.
I tilted my head, studying him for a moment before I pushed again. “You seem nervous about something,” I said, my tone soft but probing. “What’s got you so on edge?”
His blush deepened, and he shifted in his seat again, his hands tightening on his knees. “I’m not nervous,” he said quickly, though the crack in his voice betrayed him.
“Uh-huh,” I said, chuckling. “You’re a terrible liar, Allan.”
He glanced up at me, his eyes wide and uncertain. For a moment, it looked like he was going to deny it again, but instead, he just glanced down and muttered, “It’s just… like it’s just... different.”
As a bodybuilder who stood at 6 foot 2, being noticed was nothing new for me. But, this energy coming from Allan, his vibe... it felt entirely different. I felt drawn to it, eager to delve into it to see where it might lead.
“Different how?” I pressed, leaning forward slightly. “Come on, Allan. What’s up with you?.”
He hesitated, his finger drawing a figure 8 on his leg. “It’s just... when we’re one-on-one like this,” he admitted, his voice hesitant. “It’s not the same as when there’s a group.”
I raised an eyebrow, letting his words hang in the air for a moment. “Not the same how? Because I’m not exactly quiet in a crowd either.”
He hesitated again, clearly struggling to articulate what he meant. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice almost a whisper as he looked down at the floor and volunteered, “It’s just... more intense.”
I smirked, leaning back into the couch. “Intense, huh?” I said, letting the word linger. “You saying I’m too much for you to handle when it’s just us?”
His head shot up, eyes wide with alarm. “No! I mean... it’s not that,” he stammered, his cheeks flushing even deeper. “It’s just... you’ve gotten so much bigger lately.”
What he said intrigued me, in the best way, and my smirk deepened. “Bigger?” I echoed, tensing my arm casually. This was getting interesting! “You been keeping track of my progress, Allan?”
His blush burned hotter, as he squirmed in his seat. “No! I mean... not like that,” he stammered, the denial so awkward it was cute. “It’s just... hard not to notice.”
I leaned back slightly, savoring the moment before pushing further. “You know… I’m twice your size,” I said casually, my tone laced with just enough challenge to see how he’d react.
Allan’s brow furrowed, his expression a mix of skepticism and curiosity. “Twice? That can’t be right,” he murmured, his voice unsure. Still, the way his gaze flicked over me told me he was already doing the math in his head, sizing me up without even realizing it.
“Oh no?” I countered, raising an eyebrow, a teasing edge creeping into my tone. “You’re, what, a hundred and twenty-five pounds?”
His eyes widened slightly, startled. “Uh, yeah. How’d you—”
I smirked as I leaned back into the couch. “Two-sixty five,” I said, letting the number land with deliberate weight. “Think about that for a second…” Slowly, I stretched my arms along the backrest, to emphasize my point, knowing exactly how the move would land. “I’m literally carrying another you... and then some.”
Allan’s mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. The flush on his face deepened as his eyes darted downward briefly, then back up. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. The sheer disparity between us seemed to hit him all at once, his expression shifting between awe and nervous fascination. It was like he couldn’t decide whether to be intimidated or completely captivated.
I chuckled softly, leaning forward slightly, letting my arms rest on my thighs. “Relax, Allan, I’m just winding you up.”
Allan didn’t respond, but his gaze flicked toward me again, lingering for a moment on my chest. The tension in his expression made it clear he was caught in a battle with himself—part of him wanting to escape, but another part unable, or unwilling, to pull away. The silence stretched between us, as I watched him closely. There was a deliberate hesitation in his movements, as though he was grappling with emotions he couldn’t name but couldn’t step away from either.
I rolled my shoulder, reflecting on the situation before me. I’d flirted with guys before, even hooked up a few times just to see where it went, but this wasn’t like any of those encounters. With Allan it just felt different. It wasn’t just about the tension in the air; it was about how this moment felt layered, magnetic, like a current pulling us both in. The chemistry between us was completely unexpected, yet exciting.
“You know, Allan,” I said, my tone light but edged with a playful challenge, “you’re not great at hiding what’s on your mind. But maybe that’s a good thing.”
His gaze flicked up to meet mine, wide and unsure, like he wasn’t sure if I was teasing or being serious. But before I could read too much into it, he quickly looked away, his blush returning as he shifted in his seat. He didn’t respond, and that silence felt loaded, like there was something just beneath the surface that he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say.
As we sat there, it became clear: I needed to test the boundaries of the tension sparking between us and uncover exactly what we were building together. The silence stretched between us. A few times, Allan opened his mouth slightly, like he wanted to respond, but no words came. I then realized he had come as far as he could, on his own. He was certainly flustered but there was more to it. He seemed paralyzed, teetering on the edge of something he didn’t fully understand. And I was ready to tip him over, to push him just enough to see where he’d land.
Pushing on, I asked, “You’re, what, 28?” Tilting my head slightly, I let the question hang, breaking the tension but keeping the edge in my voice. “That’s a solid age. You’re fully an adult, experienced, making your way in the world... getting your shit together, right?”
Allan blinked, his gaze snapping up to meet mine, his expression contorted. “I... I guess,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.
“And yet,” I continued, leaning forward slightly, “here you are, squirming in your own living room because of a 20-year-old. That’s gotta mess with your head a little, doesn’t it?”
His eyes widened, locking with mine. “I’m not squirming,” he said quickly, the defensive edge in his tone shaky at best.
I smirked, lowering my voice just enough to make it more pointed without losing the tension. “Sure you’re not. Dude, you already said this is different for you. So, let’s be honest—guys like me?” I spread my arms slightly, letting my shoulders stretch and subtly command the space. “I don’t exactly blend into the background.”
He hesitated, his fingers fidgeting nervously on his lap. “No,” he admitted, his voice soft and unsteady. “You don’t.”
There it was—that little crack in his composure. I let the moment stretch, my smirk deepening as I studied him, deciding where to take this next. “So, what is it, Allan? What makes me stand out? Or is it just that you’ve never been around someone like me before?"
Allan swallowed hard, his blush deepening. He was struggling to maintain eye contact as his gaze darted to my chest then back. “It’s... your muscles,” he stammered, his voice soft and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if he should say it out loud. His gaze flicked to my arm, lingering before darting away. “I mean, look at you—you’re like a walking anatomy chart or something.” He let out a nervous laugh, but it faltered almost immediately as his blush deepened.
He squirmed in his chair, his voice dropping lower. “And… I mean… it’s the way you... carry yourself. Like you know exactly how to make people notice.” He hesitated, his head shaking slightly as if trying to deny it, but his next words came out like a quiet confession. “You already know that, don’t you?
I leaned back, savoring his anxious authenticity as the words hung between us. My smirk deepened, and I tilted my head slightly. “A walking anatomy chart, huh?” I teased, letting the humor sit for a moment before continuing. “And the way I carry myself... you said?” Savouring the weight of his words. “You’re not wrong, Allan.”
I leaned forward slightly, my voice dipping lower, more intimate. “So, is it me you can’t ignore, or the way I’m making you feel?” The challenge in my tone was unmistakable, daring him to answer.
His head shot up, his wide eyes locking with mine. He held my gaze only briefly, before it dropped back to his lap. “I... I don’t know,” he murmured, his voice shaking slightly. “Maybe... maybe both.”
I let my smirk soften, leaning back again as I studied him. “Both, huh? That’s fair.” My tone was easy but the weight of my words pressed between us.
His breathing quickened, and I could see the dilemma playing out on his face—the push to hold onto some semblance of control and the pull of whatever was keeping him in this moment, unable to walk away. “I... I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.
“Sure, you do,” I said, my tone coaxing but firm. “You got a lot going on in there… Spill it.”
Allan swallowed hard, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I guess...” He hesitated, then finally looked up at me, his gaze searching mine. “I’ve never felt this way before. Like... this kind of attention. It’s overwhelming, but...” He looked up at me helplessly.
My smirk widened, and I leaned back slightly, letting his words hang in the air. “Overwhelming, huh?” I said, my voice low but teasing. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
His blush deepened, and his lips parted like. He hesitated as he pondered his admission. “I... I… it’s good,” he finally managed, his voice trembling but honest.
I nodded slowly, my smirk sharpening. “Nice,” I said, my tone firm. “Because here’s the thing, Allan. Guys like me? We don’t hold back. When we walk into a room, people notice. They can’t help it. It’s not just the size. It’s the presence, the confidence. I know the kind of vibe I bring, and I think you’re starting to feel it now."
He swallowed again, casting a nervous glance at me before looking away. 'I guess,' he said softly, but his body language told me everything. He wasn’t just guessing—he was feeling it, letting it wash over him.
“Let me guess,” I said, leaning forward again, my elbows on my knees. “You’ve never had a conversation like this before, have you?”
“No,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not like this.”
I grinned, standing slowly, deliberately, stretching my arms above my head. My tank rode up, exposing the hard ridges of my abs. Allan didn’t disappoint, his gaze darting there. “You’ll figure it out,” I said, my tone casual as I headed toward the back door. “In the meantime, I’m heading out to swim and tan. You should join me.”
His head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, I... I don’t know... I’ve got research to do,” he stammered, his voice higher-pitched than usual, betraying his nerves.
“Suit yourself,” I said, smirking as I opened the door.
Stepping outside into the sun, I could feel his eyes on me, the weight of the moment still hanging in the air like a live wire.
Arriving by the pool, I peeled off my tank top and tossed it onto a chair, enjoying the sun’s warmth as I slid out of my shorts. The red Speedo clung to me like a second skin, contrasting with my tan and leaving little to the imagination. Standing there, I couldn’t help but reflect on my time with Allan—his lingering stares, the way his curiosity fed my ego. The thought left me charged, bulge pressing against the tight fabric as the tension simmered just beneath the surface.
I stretched, letting my muscles flex under the sun. Then, with a devilish grin, I dropped down to the surface of the pool deck and kicked up into a handstand, facing the house, and then lowering myself into a slow, deliberate pushup. My arms swelled with the motion, the veins on my biceps, forearms standing out like a roadmap under my skin. I did a few more, my triceps and chest tightening with each rep, the pump making my muscles even bigger. When I dropped back to my feet, I rolled my shoulders, knowing exactly how I looked—freakishly vascular, every line of muscle sharp and defined.
I glanced back at the house, catching a flicker of movement behind the curtains. Allan was there, barely hidden, his silhouette clear against the glass. Watching. Of course he was.
I grinned as I turned back to the pool and dove in, the cool water washing over me in a rush. I swam several laps, my strokes cut through the water, then floated on my back, my arms spread wide, the sun warming my chest and face. I could feel the tension still thrumming in me, not from the swim, but from the way I’d caught Allan looking.
Less than 20 minutes later, the creak of the back door pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked to see Allan stepping outside, two drinks in hand. His steps were cautious, like he wasn’t sure he should be out here, but still, he came to the edge of the pool.
“Thought you might need a drink,” he said, his voice tight, almost clipped.
I grinned, swimming over to the edge of the pool. “Thanks, dude. That’s awesome.”
He leaned down, holding one of the drinks out toward me. I placed both hands on the pool deck, gripping it firmly, and hoisted myself up in one smooth motion. I felt my triceps flex and pop as I propelled myself out, water cascading off my shoulders and chest, catching the sunlight as it ran in rivulets down my chiseled torso.
When I stood and turned, Allan froze, his grip tightening slightly on the drink he still held. His eyes darted across my chest and abs, lingering like he didn’t realize how obvious it was. The blush that had faded from his cheeks was back in full force.
I took the drink from his outstretched hand, brushing his fingers just enough to make him flinch. “You ok?” I asked, my tone casual, with just enough teasing to make it clear I noticed his flustered state.
Allan blinked, looking startled. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine.”
I chuckled softly, cracking open the can and taking a sip. “You sure? You’re getting a little red there.”
He waved a hand quickly, shaking his head. “It’s... it’s just hot out.”
“Right,” I said, letting my smirk widen as I stepped closer to the lounge chair and dropped onto it. Leaning back, every movement was deliberate as I stretched out and made myself comfortable.
Allan sat in a nearby chair, his knees drawn up to his chest, the other drink on the table beside him. He opened it but didn’t drink. His eyes flicked toward me every few moments. He probably thought he was being subtle, but I felt every glance.
I didn’t say anything right away, just let him stew in the tension he brought with him. It wasn’t just about seeing how he reacted—it was now about drawing him further in, chanelling his curiosity, and making me the focus of his attention.
To be continued..
