The Trainer
Page 2
The thought of going to a gym was about as appealing as starving myself. I didn’t want people staring and judging me when I worked out. I didn’t want to sweat in public. I didn’t want to sit on places where people had left sweat outlines of their ass. I didn’t want to be tortured by the clock as each interminable minute ticked by while doing said sweating.
In college I wrote a paper for the school newspaper regarding the gym equipment and how sanitary those machines were. There’d been a recent flu epidemic at the school and students were blaming the gym. That had me in the gym every day for a week doing research.
It was awful the way the boys stared at the women when they worked out. Like they were there just for that purpose. And let me tell you, some of the girls were just as bad. Maybe it was because we were in college and sex is constantly on the mind, but still, I didn’t want an experience like that when I was attempting to lose weight. And did I mention the sweat and the germs that make permanent homes in the gym only to relocate to a newer address…specifically on you?
My phone buzzed with a missed call from Jared. More than likely he was wondering where I was. Usually I worked from our apartment but our internet service had been sketchy lately so I worked at Starbucks today. And avoided mochas all day. If that wasn’t the true test of my determination to get my ass back in shape, nothing was.
Jared and I have been doing Taco Tuesday for years. It’s our thing since freshman year in college and continued well past the freshmen fifteen that I’d accumulated. Now we live together so it’s kind of a must.
It’s never been romantic between us. We have always been just friends. We did try the romantic part though. Even had the most awkward sex ever our sophomore year. But still, even after that, we remained friends. He’s great and always had my back no matter what. He’s the one person I can trust to give me an honest answer. Like if your jeans are too tight. And I needed brutal honesty. Jared was the man. He will tell me shit that even I don’t want to hear at times. I am thankful for it though. If it wasn’t for him I would still be in those jeans right now.
My phone beeped again letting me know I had a message. Jared said he needed cilantro for the tacos so I walked up 1st Street to Safeway.
When I got back to our third floor apartment on Republic I was lightheaded from not eating. Jared was in the kitchen chopping cabbage. The smell of spiced chicken and chili powder hit me as soon as I opened the door. I almost collapsed at his feet in prayer thanking him for the smells assaulting my food deprived nostrils.
Jared had an amazing recipe handed down from his mother who was Mexican. The best part wasn’t even the meat. For me, I’m a carb girl. I love it. Bread, flour, pastries, anything made from wheat or corn. So what completed the tacos for me was the corn tortillas he made from scratch in a cast iron pan. Then to top them off, he sprinkled them with Johnny’s Seasoning salt. They were to die for. When we were in college he made them for me for the first time and if there would have been any sort of chemistry between us, I would have married him based on his ability to make taco shells like that. Any man who could cook in my opinion was worth putting a ring on it.
“Welcome home, honey!”
Jared Stevens would be the perfect guy for some girl, some day. He had some commitment phobia but he was hot. He wasn’t always such a looker. In college he was kinda awkward but I think a lot of us were. It was some time after junior year when he started to resemble a man and began to fill out in places that makes girls stupid. And he was about to be a man in uniform so watch out ladies.
Having just graduated from the police academy, he was every woman’s dream in a uniform. Now he was starting his four weeks in field training learning the laws and patrolling Seattle before he started his one year probation with the precinct.
He wasn’t in uniform now, instead he was in an old ratty black t-shirt and basketball shorts, usually what he wore at home. When I walked into the kitchen, he smiled and pushed the bowl of salsa in my direction.
Half Mexican, his skin is nice and tan, rare blue eyes, dark hair and that body caused the angels to sing when he bared the goods. I had a feeling Jared wouldn’t be single for long. Occasionally he had girls over, but not often. I rarely saw them more than once, twice if they made a lot of noise. The walk of shame they did was often more shameful for me when I’d run into them on the way to the bathroom the morning after knowing how pathetic they were and that they probably wouldn’t be walking these hallowed halls again. Jared was a looker but he was in no way a keeper of those girls’ hearts.
“Smells delicious.” Looking around the kitchen I remembered the parts of Taco Tuesday I hated. This part is why Jared is single. I’m sure of it. He never cleans up after himself and makes a complete mess when he cooks. I guess we can’t have our cake and eat it too. Ahhhh, cake, now there’s something I could go for right about now, right after these delicious tacos I’m about to inhale.
Taking the trash can in hand, I attempted to clean up the vegetables he didn’t use and the bags he had scattered around.
“Did you make that peach pie?” He asked, his eyes focused on the chopping.
“Yeah,” I motioned toward the fridge. “It’s in there.” Reaching over him I grabbed what looked to be garlic.
“I’m not done with that.”
Did I mention Jared makes his own salsa, too?
It doesn’t lend well for clean-up, but it’s so good you forget that part. It’s sweet with a kick of garlic and cilantro and so fucking delicious you could just eat that for dinner. I have before. Throw that shit together with some corn chips and it’s a little slice of heaven straight from Mexico.
The chips were on the counter in a bright blue bowl so I dug in immediately taking much larger scoops than necessary. All the while, salsa was dribbling down my chin and onto my shirt.
Damn it, that shit always happens.
And this is why I’m single and trying to lose weight with salsa stains on my shirt and trying to fit in jeans that should have been retired after my freshman year of college
“How was patrolling today?” I asked with a mouthful of chips spitting tiny pieces onto the counter.
Yet another reason why I’m single.
“Good.” He nodded laughing at my impeccable lady-like manners. Reaching inside the bag, Jared took the cilantro, washed it, and then began chopping it. He added that to the salsa, stirred it with his finger, and then placed the rest in the bowl next to the chips to add to our tacos. I’d marry him if we weren’t the bestest of friends.
I was jealous of Jared’s cooking abilities. I could bake but when it came to actually presenting a meal, couldn’t do it.
“It’s almost ready. Grab some plates and beer?”
Nodding, I took one more bite of salsa and then retrieved our plates and cerveza. Jared put a lime in each Corona as we sat down at the table. I took another lime and squeezed it over my tacos. As I sat there looking at my heaping plate of three tacos, and then the beer, I began to wonder if this was a good idea. I knew it wasn’t but still, who could pass these up?
It’s like in order to lose weight you have to stop living. I bet skinny people are depressed. I hear them say they have more energy when they exercise but I think that might just be their brain’s way of fooling them into thinking they’re happy.
After the third taco, I looked down at my plate in sadness. “Ugh! Damn you, delicious bastards!” I pushed aside the last taco but it felt so wrong to let it go to waste. What if I started dieting tomorrow? Or maybe just made them healthier? “I bet if you didn’t fry the shells I could still eat them.”
Jared looked at me as if I just said I hated them. “You can’t mess with the recipe, Tallan. Maybe if you didn’t put a pound of cheese on each taco.”
“Don’t be rude.” And then I said probably the least truthful statement of the evening. “You could stand to lose a pound too, donut boy.”
“Oh, bullshit.” Jared stood knocking the table a little and lifted his shirt.
“That’s what I thought.” He sat back down and started in on his fifth taco. It has to be the muscles that eat up all the extra calories that men can consume. Jerks. One more cross to bear for women. Life is sooooo not fair.
“You don’t need to do this.” His voice was suddenly tender. “You’re not eighteen anymore and you look fine.”
“Ordinarily I wouldn’t, but, Silas was the love of my life. You know that. And to have a chance to see him again,” I shrugged. “I just want to prove to him I still look good.”
“And you do. So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t look like I did in high school.”
“And you shouldn’t.” Jared set his taco down and gave me a serious look, his eyebrows raised in question. “You’re twenty-two. There’s a difference between eighteen and twenty-two.”
“Yeah, like twenty pounds.”
“So you’re meeting him to show him you lost weight? Why don’t you just snap chat him or something.”
“It’s not just that. I want answers. He left me with no explanation as to why we couldn’t do this thing together and I want to face him in person. I want him to regret leaving me before he ravages my body backstage for all the world to see.”
Jared shook his head now. The more I talked the worse it got. “And you can’t get answers over the phone?”
“No.”
“So what,” he relaxed and leaned back in the chair crossing his arms over his chest. He was going into protective mode. “You’re going to talk to him and then fuck him?”
Rolling my eyes I picked my plate up and set it on the counter, and then looked out the kitchen window at the street below. “Don’t be an ass.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to understand. He can get pussy anywhere he wants. Why you?”
“Way to make me feel completely inadequate, Jared.”
“I never said you were inadequate. What I asked was why he would call his old girlfriend for pussy. He’s in town for one night. How do you think it’s going to end?”
He had a very good point. I knew what Silas wanted but who was Jared to judge me? So what if he wanted one night? What if he wanted more than one? Was I fooling myself to think there would be anything more than one night?
Probably.
Mostly I wanted answers from Silas and for that I would meet him in six weeks. And you know what, excuse the fuck out of me for wanting some rock dick. Even back in high school Silas was amazing in bed. Nothing compared to the nights we shared together and I wanted that again.
“I just want to lose twenty pounds.” I finally said to Jared as we did dishes. “What do you do to get into shape?”
“I masturbate.”
“Jared… ” Shaking my head I handed him the cast iron pan for him to clean. “I’m serious.”
He shrugged. “So am I.”
He probably was knowing him.
“Just go to the gym.”
I groaned at the thought. “I don’t want to go to a gym. Everyone will stare at me.”
“Why?”
He clearly had never had an experience like I did. But look at him. Of course he didn’t.
“Men at the gym are all judgy and staring. The women are so fucking skinny they look like little boys. I bet my ankles are bigger than most of their calves. And the women just compare each other…who has the bigger ass, who has the most cellulite, who isn’t spinning or running fast enough. It’s disgusting.”
“You’re exaggerating.” Jared looked down at my ankles, his eyes widened.
I punched his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.”
“You’re the one who pointed your freakishly large ankles out. My God, Tallan. Can you even find ankle socks to fit over those? I think I’ve heard those things called ‘cankles’ by others who aren’t as ankle-endowed as you seem to be.”
“Shut. Up.” I stalked toward the fridge. “How about that pie? I’ll start tomorrow.”
I laid in bed that night, after eating two slices of pie, and I couldn’t sleep thinking about my goal and an article I had to get done for a blog that was due tomorrow. That’s when I decided to get up and look to see what else was in that box I kept from high school.
My yearbooks. It was filled with memories and photos of me and Silas. There wasn’t a moment from the time I met him, until the day he left that I didn’t think we would be together always. Everyone thought we would be. Nothing could have prepared me for him leaving but then again, I think there was a small part of me that had prepared myself for this possibility. A man with his talent wasn’t going to stay in Seattle forever. At least not without leaving first.
Maybe that’s why he was coming back. Maybe he wanted to finally settle down?
I’ll admit my thought gave me more hope than it should have. Expecting a rock star of his status to want to settle down was stupid of me, but the thought was there regardless.
That sort of thing happened in real life, right?
Turning the page in the book, my eyes landed on the one of Silas and me at Homecoming our senior year. We looked happy and in love. The next series of photos beside it was ones of him on stage rocking out with his band. It was that night when I knew he would make it big someday. He had to. Little did I know I wouldn’t be a part of that. The idea that maybe he might still want me gave my heart that familiar flutter of excitement. So if I wanted some closure, or possibly some way to reconnect and reignite this old flame, then who had the right to judge or take that opportunity away from me? I didn’t have a voice in him leaving but you can bet your jiggly ass I was going to have a voice in him wanting more from me than just one night.
The next morning I was trying to decide what to eat for breakfast and basically just standing in the kitchen staring at the fridge. I couldn’t find a damn thing worth eating so I toasted a slice of bread and put butter on it while I waited for the coffee to finish.
Jared came into the kitchen dressed in his uniform ready for work. “Give me that. You’re dieting, cankle queen.”
I glared and he laughed eating my toast. He stopped and held the toast between his lips, his palms raised. “You know damn well I find you attractive and I’m joking with you.”
“You find me attractive?”
“You know I do. We’ve had sex before and I came within what, a minute? Remember?”
“That was different. We were drunk and that was in college. Shit’s changed since then.”
“How so?”
“Well, we don’t have sex and we’re not attracted to each other like that.”
Jared nodded finishing off the toast and then stealing my cup of coffee too. “Let’s clear that up. You’re my friend. Probably my best friend these days since Jay got married. And you’re hot whether you want to see it or not. Yeah, we don’t have sex. But that’s only because you said when we moved in together that we couldn’t.” He laughed, his voice turning playful. “Which seems stupid to me. I think we should be able to relieve stress sometimes without the awkwardness of the morning walk of shame.”
Jared knew why we couldn’t have sex. I thought of him as my big brother, though I was older than him by two weeks. I just didn’t find him attractive in that way.
“What’s your point?”
“My point is… I find you attractive. Even though we will always be friends, that’s not to say I don’t think of you naked sometimes.”
“Friends?”
He looked panicked. “Yes… where exactly did you think I was going with that?”
“That you were going to tell me you’ve always secretly loved me and want to get married?”
“You totally missed my point then. But yes, I do love you in a sisterly way. You’re far too annoying for wife material.” And then he eyed my ankles. “And if we had babie
s they would have your ankles. That’s definitely the dominant gene in that equation. Poor kids.”
“I pity the woman who you finally do marry. I’m not sure there will be room in the marriage for the two of you.”
Jared turned and started to walk out the door but slapped my ass. “I could say the same to you.”
“Dick.”
I was halfway through my article for the blog when Jared came home early.
“You remember Danny, right?”
I made sure to save the document I was working on. “That bar owner you’re always checking on?”
“Yeah, him.”
“So?” I turned in my chair to face him.
“Well, he has a nephew who’s apparently a bad ass at training.”
“To do what, drink?”
“No, dumb ass. Getting in shape. And you wouldn’t have to go to a gym.”
“Okay… ” I took a deep breath trying to prepare myself. “Who?”
“Destry Stone.” He seemed so proud of himself but it took me a minute to understand, or remember who Destry was. The name sounded so familiar.
“The boxer?”
“Yeah!”
This was like the best news ever. He could totally get me in shape. It’d be like boot camp but with a heavyweight boxer. I wondered if I’d get abs like Jared’s…or a boxer’s…in six weeks?
Jared wrote down the number on my note pad and then went back to work. I called it right away to arrange a time. The number was for the bar so I set up a time with Danny, the owner, and he said he’d pass the information along to Destry.
If I could get this shit accomplished in less than six weeks, I could go back to eating what I wanted. Surely a boxer could whip my ass in shape in less than forty-two days, right? My stomach and those high school jeans that died an untimely death were banking on that.