The lingering heat of the workout still burned in every muscle fiber, mingling with the thick steam and hormonal scent of the locker room to give Ethan Vance a sense of pure, masculine satisfaction. He was shirtless, glistening beads of sweat tracing slow paths down his chiseled abs. He tossed a white towel casually over his shoulder, then leaned heavily against a cold metal locker, letting out a dull thud.

He let out a long breath. It felt great.

Today’s training had been intense, but his form had been better than ever, every pass as precise as a surgeon's scalpel. The championship was close, and he could taste victory. The only thing slightly off was that his "little shadow" had been acting weird lately.

"Hey, Mark," Ethan began gruffly, his voice echoing in the spacious locker room. He turned to his friend, who was unscrewing a water bottle nearby. "You get the feeling... they've been avoiding me lately?"

Mark, who was in the middle of drinking, paused. He didn't choke, but simply gave Ethan a look of profound exhaustion, as if staring at a hopeless fool, and rolled his eyes.

"Who else? My little bro," Ethan said matter-of-factly, completely missing the disdain in Mark's expression as his own brow furrowed. "I asked them to the gym, they said they were busy. I told them to wait so we could hit the cafeteria together, they bailed early. What the hell? Did I piss them off?"

"Oh, for God's sake," Mark said, rubbing his temples, his voice dripping with weariness. "Could it be possible, Ethan—and this is just a tiny, almost impossible guess—that they just don't want to hang out with a muscle-bound idiot?"

Ethan automatically filtered out the insult. "No way," he denied flatly. "They love hanging with me."

"Is that so?" Mark drew out the words, a malicious grin spreading across his face. "Then maybe it's because I asked them to a movie this weekend."

Ethan's brain stalled. His massive form turned toward Mark, his face a mask of pure confusion, even tinged with the hurt of being poached by his best friend. "Mark, buddy... we're brothers. I'm not gonna judge you, for real." He fumbled for words, trying to sound magnanimous. "But... when did you get into guys? And you moved on them so fast? They're my best bro, how could you..."

The malicious grin vanished from Mark's face, inch by inch. It was replaced by an expression of mixed pity and extreme fatigue, a look that had seen it all. He let out a long sigh, as if it took all the energy he had, and then gave a monumental eye-roll.

"Ethan," Mark's voice was unnervingly calm, "can I ask you a very, very sincere question?"

He paused, then said slowly, in a flat, emotionless tone, "Did all that protein powder fry your brain?"

The question wasn't shouted, it wasn't angry, but it landed like a silent sledgehammer against Ethan's temple. He was completely stunned, frozen in place like a giant statue on pause.