The Trainer by Jamie Lake Read Free Book Online Page B

complex topics digestible for the masses to understand.  That’s what we really need in consciousness today. Don’t get me started.”
    Mason smiled, and watched Chris for a bit as they slowed to a stop, his hands on his hips, “No man. I agree 100%. Hey, we’re almost done here, would you like to grab a drink? I mean, a smoothie or something?”
    “Sure .” Chris exclaimed.
    “We should hang a little bit. It’s not often I run into someone interested in Dyer and stuff.”
    Chris smiled, catching his breath. “I’d love that. Where should we go?”
    “Only the best smoothie shop in all of Costa Rica,” Mason said , walking in the direction of his car.
    “Where’s that?” Chris asked.
    “My house.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
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    CHAPTER 9
     
     
    A s flattered as Chris was to be invited to Mason’s home, he couldn’t shake the immediate anxiety and feeling of self-consciousness. Why? He asked. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in an attractive straight guy’s house. There was something else gnawing at him:  maybe it was how much he loved being around Mason, even though they’d only met a couple of days ago; and he already had hopes, fears, and expectations about what might happen between them. Chris knew the man was straight, but a girl can dream, can’t she?
    “Welcome to my humble abode,” Mason joked.
    He tossed his sports bag on the floor as they stepped inside. It was a total bachelor’s pad, Chris noticed. It didn’t have imported, European sofas upholstered in leather or the flat screen TVs or the fresh flowers he ordered weekly. No, it was humble, it was simple, but it felt right: down-to-earth, unapologetic, and masculine:  just like Mason. The carpet was a dull green that looked like a lot of tones from the American seventies that were still popular in San Jose. His furniture was all neat but eclectic, chosen from thrift shops or antique spots: a couch made of big orange rectangles, a long mission-style coffee table in black lacquer, and two white bucket chairs. There were a few old National Geographic magazines heaped on the coffee table, and a very obvious absence of a television. Instead, there were bookshelves, a simple-looking stereo system, and hundreds of CDs.
    Of course, also, there were a lot of books, too, including Wayne Dyer, Deepak Chopra, Pema Chodron, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, and other meditation and new age authors Chris had never heard of.
    As Chris walked into the brown-tiled kitchen, he noticed how much it even smelled like Mason. As he thought this, he realized that he already knew what that smell was. And that he loved it.
    “I like it,” Chris said emphatically.
    Mason gave him a yeah-right look, and Chris responded, “No, I’m serious. Your place is great and it’s safe and you have a backyard. I don’t even have that.”
    “Well, thanks. If you like it so much, you can come hang out in it whenever you want. And clean up all the dog poop from the neighbor’s Chihuahuas too,” Mason smirked.
    Chris laughed. Mason was a lot more jovial than Chris would have expected.  He was nothing like the guy he met in the driveway yesterday morning.
    “So, come on in,” he said opening the refrigerator, “One thing about Costa Rica is there’s no lack of cheap, high-quality, organic fruits and vegetables, which is what you should be eating by the way, young man.”
    “Yes, sir,” Chris said.
    Mason stopped , looked up at him, and winked. “That’s what I like to hear.”
    Chris gulped.
    “Now, what’s your preference: strawberries, pineapples, bananas?”
    “I like bananas,” Chris said.
    “Yeah, me too. And pineapples are good for you, but pretty high in sugar, so you have to go easy. We’ll throw a few heavy iron veggies in there just to make sure you get your vitamins.”
    Mason must have noticed the sour expression on Chris’ face because he said, “Don’t worry, you’ll love it. Promise.”
    He