Peter knew he was vain. Anyone could see he had a good reason to be, he boasted to himself, with a physique like his. Hans had said another word for vain—something to do with being sissy—but he couldn’t remember it exactly. Sometimes Hans even called him “Sissy”, like a pet nickname. Hans was always using big words Peter didn’t know. Small wonder, the way he was always reading. He read on his computer. He read books and magazines, everything he could lay his hands on. Peter wished Hans would ‘read’ him instead, pay more attention to him. 
When he wasn’t out exercising, while Hans was reading or writing, he had liked to cook or bake. At least Hans showed some appreciation for him then; he was never stingy at the market about buying ingredients for Peter to try new things. Hans refused to be a vegetarian like Peter but he didn’t mind eating the really super healthy stuff Peter liked to make. During that time, Peter perfected his banana bread recipe—it was loaded with health. He felt healthier just making it, so he’d made it every Sunday morning.
One of the reasons Peter had really liked living at the POP’s was access to the great workout room and the pool. Hans objected about the extra expense of the fees at first, wondering aloud why, if Peter already worked as a personal trainer at a gym, he would need to have all these facilities at home as well. Hans had tried to say he preferred to buy a bigger unit somewhere else, in a building without any facilities. Hans had read—what else?—about the differences between condo buildings. He’d tried to explain it all to Peter but Peter only pretended to listen. He only needed to remember just enough to fake interest when Hans wanted to discuss it.
Hans said he wanted extra floor space he could use for an office. It didn’t have to be a whole other bedroom, he said, because that would cost a lot more. A bedroom had to have a closet; that was the rule. But a larger unit would have more floor space, space he could use to set up his desk and shelves. Hans didn’t have a car; only Peter did, but Hans insisted they get a place with dedicated parking, not street parking, even though this would cost more too. He said this would help with resale value. So Hans was looking for a larger one bedroom or a bedroom plus den, with parking and lower condo fees, while Peter wanted a one bedroom with nice facilities. He had finally persuaded Hans to buy in this building even though their unit was the smallest one there. It was even smaller than many other units they viewed elsewhere. Hans set up his work space in a corner of the living room. Peter had to squish in his stuff as best he could; he tried to remember to not complain about all the space Hans was taking for his home office.
Peter had made a point of using the workout facilities a lot, then saying that proved they were getting their money’s worth for the condo fees. Hans didn’t join him often, except for an occasional swim, preferring to stay in the unit or go out on the terrace to work. As there were usually other people in the pool or in the exercise room using the equipment, Peter reveled in any chance to display his charms even though he was in a relationship and ‘wouldn’t look at anybody else’, he assured Hans. They could still look at him, couldn’t they?
It had all worked beautifully, for awhile. Finally, even with all that health and exercise, Peter just couldn’t take it any more. Sulking hadn’t worked; Hans wouldn’t be nice to him, was so…so…serious all the time.
“‘One minute you completely ignore me…the next minute you’re absolutely jealous.” he’d shrieked at Hans. “What am I supposed to do?”
So one day he’d left, taking some extra stuff that would make Hans sorry; sorry for what he had done and what he had not done, and sorry realizing he’d be much less healthy too, without Peter looking after him. Rejected but resourceful, Peter loaded up his car with all his booty and drove out, not quite sure of where he was going. As the traffic on Prospect was only one way, northbound, he could only go in one direction to begin searching for new love. Still in a huge huff, he felt confident of finding a listener, all sympathy for his sad tale, to take him in before the day was out and treat him properly.
Peter’s newest room-mate, Rob, was a guy he met at work who’d come in on one of those trial offers. Rob didn’t join but he was there long enough to slightly interest Peter and it turned out he had a nice enough apartment; so he moved in. Recently though there’d been some remarks; if roomie was getting jealous, roomie was in for disappointment. Still, Peter decided to not bring anyone else home with him just now. He didn’t have any other place to live at the moment. He was a bit surprised that Hans had never called to ask him about that stuff he’d swiped or about the set of keys he still had either. Maybe he would surprise Hans one night and just walk in on him, to tantalize him and see what he was up to—reading, probably.
Peter never quite got around to making that pop-in visit. There was another, newer possibility on the horizon. Rusty. Rusty, the redhead. He’d always had a thing about redheads. Blondes were next favorite on his list—Hans was blond—but he could never leave a redhead alone. He was not yet quite sure the way the wind was blowing with Rusty. He needed more time with him to figure that out but Rusty only came in to work out twice a week.
“Hey Rusty, you ever consider upping your hours here? It would increase your progress.” Peter introduced the subject. “Twice a week would never be enough for me. When I lived at my old condo, I worked my shift here then went home and used the facilities there. And I’m in pretty good shape, wouldn’t you say?” he preened, striking a pose.
“Oh yeah, and where was your ‘old condo’?”
“Right here in town, at the POP’s.”
“What’s that?”
“The Prospect on Prospect, over by the lake. It has a pool and a big exercise room with lots of equipment.”
“I’d like to get in there, to see it, not to live there. Never knew anybody who lived there, ’til now.” As serendipity swept over Peter, without any hesitation, he took the bull by the horns.
“Oh well, if that’s what you want Rusty, I can get take you there. Just give me some time and I’ll sort it out for us. I’ll let you know, OK?”