College Betting

Chapter 1

Brian had always been the loudest guy in the room without trying.

At 5’10”, broad-shouldered, and thick through the chest and arms, he looked like someone who had earned his confidence. Not shredded—there was a soft layer over his abs, a bit of chub that showed he liked food as much as the gym—but nobody questioned whether he was strong. Especially not Axel.

Axel was 5’5”, lean to the point of looking unfinished. Long arms, narrow shoulders, wrists that disappeared inside hoodie sleeves. He worked out—everyone knew that—but it never seemed to stick. Pushups, pull-ups, dumbbells in his bedroom. Effort without visible payoff.

That’s why Brian laughed when Axel mentioned he was planning to “really lock in” before college.

“Lock in to what?” Brian said, leaning back against the bench outside the rec center. “You’ve been ‘locking in’ for like two years.”

Axel frowned. “I’m serious this time.”

Brian looked him up and down, exaggerated, like he was appraising a joke. “You’re telling me you’re gonna put on muscle before September?”

“At least some,” Axel said.

Brian snorted. “Some isn’t ten pounds.”

Axel froze. “What?”

Brian grinned. “Ten pounds of muscle. By the time college starts. You won’t do it.”

Axel felt his face heat. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Brian said easily. “Genetics, man. You’re built… like that.” He gestured vaguely. “I’ve been lifting for years. You think you’re just gonna catch up in a summer?”

Axel hesitated. “So what?”

“So I’ll make it interesting,” Brian said. “Bet you won’t put on ten pounds of muscle by September.”

Axel swallowed. “And if I do?”

Brian shrugged. “I’ll admit I was wrong. Publicly.”

That alone almost made Axel say yes.

“And,” Brian added, smirking, “I’ll pay for your first month of meal plan upgrades.”

Axel looked at him. “And if I don’t?”

Brian’s smile widened. “Then you admit you’re all talk.”

Silence stretched between them.

Axel stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

⸻

The first week was brutal.

Axel didn’t magically transform overnight. If anything, everything hurt more than usual. He switched routines entirely—compound lifts, progressive overload, tracking everything. Calories, protein, sleep. He started eating like it was his job, even when he didn’t want to.

Brian noticed immediately—not the size, but the commitment.

Axel stopped skipping days. Stopped joking mid-set. Stopped quitting early. When Brian saw him in the gym, Axel’s hoodie was usually off, sweat darkening his shirt, jaw set in a way Brian hadn’t seen before.

Still, Brian wasn’t worried.

Ten pounds was a lot.

By the end of week one, Axel stepped on the scale.

Up three pounds.

He stared at the number longer than he meant to.

Some of it was water. Some of it was food weight. He knew that. But his arms felt fuller when he flexed. His chest didn’t cave inward the same way. His shirts—barely—fit tighter across the shoulders.

Then something else happened.

Axel woke up one morning and felt… different. Not sore. Not tired.

Longer.

He stood up and caught his reflection in the mirror and frowned. The angle felt off. He measured himself twice.

5’6”.

He laughed out loud, half-disbelieving.

A growth spurt. At eighteen. Late, but real.

⸻

Week two hit harder.

The soreness came back, deeper, but Axel pushed through it. His appetite exploded. He ate like he was chasing something—because he was. His posture changed first. He stood straighter without thinking. His shoulders stopped sloping forward.

Brian started noticing details he hadn’t expected to.

Axel’s arms didn’t look stringy anymore. His forearms stayed pumped longer after workouts. His legs—especially his quads—filled out his shorts in a way that made Brian blink once, then look again.

“You gain weight?” Brian asked casually one afternoon.

Axel shrugged. “Some.”

“How much?”

Axel smiled but didn’t answer.

That annoyed Brian more than it should have.

By the end of week two, Axel was up nearly six pounds.

Not all muscle. He knew that. But enough of it was that he felt heavier in a solid way. When he walked, the ground felt closer. When he lifted, the weights moved smoother.

And he measured again.

5’6½”.

Brian noticed something else too.

Axel didn’t look small next to him anymore.

Shorter, yeah—but not fragile. Not narrow. When they stood side by side, Axel’s shoulders sat wider than Brian remembered, his chest fuller, his neck thicker. Brian still outweighed him. Still had years of lifting behind him.

But the gap wasn’t static.

It was shrinking.

Brian laughed it off. “Careful, man. Don’t gas yourself up too early.”

Axel met his eyes. Calm. Focused. “It’s only been two weeks.”

That’s when Brian felt it—a flicker of doubt.

September suddenly didn’t feel that far awa