***Joel***
"To think you were worried about your genes not too long ago," I comment as James exits the bathroom in just a towel. He looks at me oddly.
"I do not follow," he says, raising his eyebrows.
"Are you kidding me? Six months ago you couldn't even lift my dumbbells. Now you look like you should be joining me for the Men's Health shoot on Saturday," I say, gesturing to his bare top half.
"I will take that as a compliment. But I have been working very hard with Ollie, the man is a menace," he replies, wandering into the bedroom.
Something was definitely up, with him. It had to be steroids or some sort of drug. I was amazed the media hadn't suggested it, but then the most recent photos were of him the last three times we'd gone to SMAT in his baggy Imperial College hoody, or stood
