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Call him typical, but Pedroso lived for the hunt. The hunt of the heart, that is--the passionate dance of flirtation and courtship that set his Spanish blood a-boiling. The stolen glances, the gentle kisses, the tiny, expensive presents given to coax out the glow in a lady's eyes! Oh, just the thought of it was enough to have him dancing on air for days! Pedroso knew his stuff, all right, and many a señorita had fallen gracefully into his arms.
Which is why it nearly broke the poor man's heart when Abebe, gorgeous, chiseled, newest-member-of-the-team Abebe, spurned Pedroso's every advance. He used the man's rose petals to line his pet chick's 'fro-nest, pulled away in boredom at his veiled romantic poetry, and didn't look at all impressed when the keepsake silver bracelet snapped in half as he flexed his wrist. Pedroso could only watch in horror as every one of his attempts turned into a disaster right before his eyes, and at the end of it all he dragged himself back to his villa, in the deepest despair he'd ever known.
After gnashing his teeth, wailing, knocking his hat across the room, dramatically pulling his draperies right off the runner and overall having a good cry, Pedroso thought. He thought long and hard. Abebe was a man, obviously--and the first man Pedroso had ever had eyes for. It would make sense that his usual techniques hadn't worked. But what would?
Well, what did they have in common?
The next day, invigorated with a bottle of suntan lotion, a freshly groomed mustache and a newfound sense of determination, Pedroso asked Abebe out to his private beach. "No funny business," he proclaimed. "Just working out. I always work out on the beach."
Abebe agreed, which was a pleasant surprise, and soon he and Pedroso were pumping iron on the beach. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was a beautiful blue, Abebe's chick was off hunting for hermit crabs, and even the sound of distant traffic was absent that day. Everything seemed to be coming together in Pedroso's favor, and (a little nervously), he made his move.
"Say! You should widen your stance a little," he said, drawing closer to his friend. "You want your feet to be aligned with your shoulders."
"Like this?" Abebe planted his feet firmly in the sand and arched his back up, stretching.
"Yes! That's perfect!" Pedroso said, his eye catching on the way the sunlight slipped over his skin. "Oh!" he said, starting. "I forgot the lotion--"
"I don't need it," Abebe said nonchalantly, giving him a wave of his hand as he did reps with a dumbbell in the other. "I don't burn that easily."
"I do," Pedroso admitted, flustered. He pulled out the lotion from his bag and began applying it hastily, thinking all the while. Great, his big gambit of slathering suntan lotion all over his friend's beautiful muscles was shot. This whole thing had started so well, too!
Pedroso looked up, groaning as he flexed his bicep. "That should do it, I suppose..."
Abebe grinned. He was staring at him, clearly. "Your muscles," he chuckled. "They're very nice. You definitely should take good care of them." He lifted up a dark arm, flexing next to Pedroso's. "Maybe one day they'll be as big as mine!"
"What!" Pedroso laughed, bringing up his other arm. "Look! These muscles are bigger than your head, Abebe. I've been on this team for a long time!"
"Maybe thicker than your head, too," Abebe chuckled, slapping a hand down on the curve of his bicep affectionately. "But only maybe." He gave it an experimental squeeze, and maybe it was just the sun, but a little pinkness seemed to play on his face. He stepped back and crouched down, then reached out to pinch the muscles of one of Pedro's strong, pale thighs. "These are big!" he marveled. "How do you get them so big?"
"That's the secret!" Pedroso said, lifting one leg up and posing it on the weight bench that lay, partly sunk, in the sand. "I build them up by walking in the sand all day. It's great for your legs." He looked down at Abebe, grinning. "Do...do you like it?"
Abebe nodded. "Yeah." He looked up, grinning back as he placed a hand on the top of Pedroso's thigh. "This is nice. Much more fun than listening to your silly poetry!"
"Silly?" Pedroso laughed, putting his foot on Abebe's shoulder and pushing him down playfully. "I put a lot of work into--oomph!" Abebe picked him up and flipped him over, sending him tumbling into the sand. "Abebe!" He rolled over, grabbing Abebe around the waist and pinning him down onto the sand. "Now that's playing dirty."
"No, it's not!" Abebe replied, and squirmed out of his grip. They wrestled in the sand and ended up with Pedroso capturing Abebe in a headlock, his beefy arm around his neck, flexing (but not too tightly).
"Admit it," Abebe puffed, spitting out a little bit of sand. "This is more fun than your silly poetry." He grabbed the bodybuilder's arm in both hands. "Let's do this more often instead."
"Really?"
"Really."
Pedroso loosened his grip and rolled away from him. Abebe sat up, rubbing his neck a little bit. "Because, well--I'm at the gym on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but on the weekends I stay here. You can come again, if you'd like."
"I'd like that," Abebe said, looking out over the expanse of the beach. "Yeah."
They sat together in the surf, watching the little chick scurry along the tide like a sandpiper.
"She really liked the roses," Abebe murmured. "Can we have some more of those, too?"
"Sure. Of course. You really liked them?" Pedroso said, glancing over to him.
"Oh, yeah." Abebe nodded. "They were perfect for her. And they smelled really nice, too."