by Cassie Cole
Just like when we were kids, he gazed at me steadily until I cracked.
I lowered my voice and said, “I think I have a crush on my personal trainer.”
Darryl responded to this piece of personal information by barking a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“This is just like when you were a teenager. You always had a crush on whoever you worked with.”
“That’s not true!”
Darryl ticked off names on his fingers. “Your tenth grade math tutor—the scrawny one with braces.”
“Miles was just a friend…” I protested weakly.
“Your high school cross-country coach, even though he was eight years older and in college.” Another finger. “My friend Patrick, who used to come over to play Dungeons and Dragons.”
“Patrick wasn’t my fault,” I snapped. “He always wore those tight little jean shorts when he came over. You can’t just flaunt that around a hormonal teenage girl and expect her not to have a few fantasies.”
“My point,” Darryl insisted, “is that this is exactly the kind of thing you used to do. And it always ended in heartbreak when the guys didn’t like you back.”
“I have a feeling he likes me back,” I whispered. I didn’t want the customer in the back hearing the details of my romantic failures.
“What makes you think so?”
Because we just fucked like animals in the massage room.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Darryl sighed and put a hand on my arm. “I just don’t want to see you get heartbroken again, little sis.”
“I’m not a child anymore,” I said defensively.
“No,” he agreed. “You’re not.”
I was about to argue some more, but the customer in the back of the store turned his head and I got a better look. “Hold on a second,” I said to Darryl.
I walked to the back of the store. “Brody?”
It was strange seeing him wearing something other than workout clothes. He looked dapper in jeans and a fleece jacket, with his hands jammed in the pockets. His cheeks were still red from the cold outside.
“Oh. Hey, Katherine.”
“Call me Kat. What are you doing here?”
He gestured. “Looking for a vinyl album.”
“Are you sure you’re not stalking me? First in the pool this morning, and now you’re here at my store…” I gave him half a smile to let him know I was joking.
“Actually, I was looking for the newest Post Malone album. You have his first two here, but not Runaway Tour.”
“You’re into vinyl?”
A grin appeared on his handsome face. “The apartment I’m renting came with a turntable. I’ve been converted.”
It still felt like that was all an excuse to visit me in my store, but he seemed genuine. I glanced at the row of albums and said, “I know we stock Runaway Tour. All the copies out here must have sold. I’ll grab one from the back—do you want to listen to it first?”
“Nope, I’ll go ahead and buy it.”
I went to the back storage room and found the album. Brody was waiting by the register when I returned. Darryl had moved to the back of the store, pretending to peruse a stack of jazz albums while eavesdropping on us.
I rang up Brody’s purchase and handed him the receipt. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“You can slow down on the points at RMF,” he teased. “I’m afraid you’re going to catch me soon.”
I smirked. “No can do, buddy. I’m coming for your ass.”
“Well, then how about a date?”
The smile disappeared from my face. “What?”
“How would you like to go on a date? With me?”
At the back of the store, Darryl fist-pumped in the air.
“If I didn’t know any better,” I said carefully, “I’d say you were trying to get me away from the gym so I can’t earn points.”
“If we’re both away,” Brody replied smoothly, “neither of us can earn any.”
In the background, Darryl started hip-thrusting in the air. I ignored him and said, “Maybe you’re planning on standing me up.”
Brody ran a hand through his perfect blond hair. “Hey, that’s actually a good idea. Tell you what. I’ll pick you up right in front of RMF. That way, if I do stand you up, you can quickly run into the gym and let out your anger on the machines. Do you work weekends?”
“Usually, but I’m flexible. Sometimes it pays to be the boss.”
“How about noon, on Saturday?”
The time surprised me. Noon wasn’t the most romantic time of day for a date. “Yeah, noon works great.”
“Then it’s a date.” Brody patted his palm on the counter. “Dress warmly, and wear good boots. We’re going to be outside. See you then.”
He took his purchase and left the store.
I slapped Darryl on the arm when he rejoined me. “It’s hard to flirt with a guy while you’re making an ass of yourself in the background!”
“I’d be a bad brother if I didn’t try to embarrass you. So you’ve got a date this Saturday?”
“Looks like it.”
Darryl frowned. “Who takes a girl on a date at noon? Maybe he wants to take advantage of the diner brunch specials.”
“Shut up. I’m sure whatever date he has planned will be nice.”
Darryl jabbed a finger at me. “At least you’ve already forgotten about that personal trainer.”
If only you knew the whole truth, I thought.
16
Katherine
That afternoon, I went on the RMF website to schedule a personal swim class. Several instructors were available all week, but Max Baker only had an open slot from ten to eleven on Saturday morning. That was perfect—I could get my workout in before my date with Brody.
Plus, I would rather learn from Max than someone else.
I woke up the next morning dreading the gym. I had considered texting Finn the night before about what happened, but chickened out. How would he act when we saw each other? I was terrified of things being awkward.
But when I got to the gym and scanned my wrist monitor at the entrance kiosk, one of the girls at the front desk came running up. “Hey there, Katherine! Just wanted to let you know that your personal trainer is out sick today. If you need any assistance, Carmen is available to help you.”
“Oh, okay.”
I had a sinking feeling that Finn wasn’t really sick. He was avoiding seeing me. It was just what I feared: we had had sex, and now everything had changed.
I’d ruined a good thing.
Finn was out the next day too, and the day after that. Rather than ask for Carmen’s help, I pulled up the spreadsheet on my phone and completed my weight-lifting routine without him. It was empowering doing it by myself without any help—loading the bar with the plates, then doing heavy squats all by myself without a spotter. But I couldn’t help but feel just a little bit lonely. Like something was missing.
On Friday I came back to the gym for movie night. The room was already mostly full. Before I could search for an open bike, Max waved at me from the back of the room and patted the seat next to him.
“Well aren’t you sweet?” I said as I sat down.
“I just want someone to whisper with during the movie,” he replied, deadpan.
“And people say chivalry is dead.” I stuck my water bottle into the holder and began lightly spinning. “Have you seen Finn this week?”
Max shook his head. “Heard he got the flu. It’s been going around.”
Oh, it’s been going around alright.
“But forget about him. You’ve got an hour scheduled with yours truly tomorrow morning.”
“I know. I’m excited.”
He grinned. “I knew it. You just wanted to see me in a Speedo.”
“Not that kind of excited,” I said with a laugh.
“Too bad. I look good.”
I giggled as the lights dimmed and the movie began. Was Max flirting with me, or was th
at just his normal personality? I couldn’t be certain.
“How much have you done so far?” Max asked. “I haven’t looked at your activity report yet.”
“I swam twice this week. I feel strong, but I can tell I’m out of practice.”
“Well, you won’t be Michael Phelps by tomorrow afternoon,” he replied. “But by the time I’m done with you, hopefully you’ll have some specific issues to focus on.”
By the time I’m done with you. The way he said it sounded dirty, but it might have just been my imagination.
Max smirked at me, making me second-guess myself.
After the movie, I went home and decided that I couldn’t keep things up in the air with Finn. I hated this feeling, dreading going to the gym every morning because things were awkward between us. I also missed having him as my trainer, my workout partner, pushing me and giving me positive reinforcement. If I was going to continue being successful at RMF, I needed that.
So I texted him.
Me: Hi. I wanted to clear the air about what happened. I’ve been feeling awful about how things ended, and I’m certain you’ve been faking sick all week to avoid seeing me. So, maybe it will be easier to get it all out via text. Do you want to talk about it?
A read-receipt appeared after a moment. I waited for a response.
And waited.
An hour passed without any text back from Finn. I went to bed feeling more deflated than ever.
I spent the beginning of the next morning at the store before heading to the gym for my swim lesson. A single look at the girl at the front desk told me what I needed to know—she shook her head sadly. Finn was still out.
It was starting to look like I needed to find a new personal trainer.
I changed into my swimsuit and met Max in the pool. He was already there, stretching his legs by the edge of the pool. He hadn’t undressed to his bathing suit yet.
“There’s my girl.” The way he said it made me tingle with warmth, especially after the de-facto rejection from Finn. “Nice bathing suit.”
“Thanks.” I wiggled my hips. “I picked it out myself.”
“Have you warmed up, yet?”
“Nope. Came straight here.”
“That’s cool,” he replied. “We’ll warm up in the pool.”
He pulled his shirt over his head, and my brain turned to jelly. It was like he was moving in slow motion, each of his rippling muscles appearing one at a time while I stared. I suspected that he looked good without a shirt on—especially after he joked about it last night—but seeing it in person was like watching porn. His skin was golden-brown, more tan than I expected. His abs looked like a pack of delicious dinner rolls. His skin moved over the oblique muscles in his sides, giving away every nook and cranny. His arms weren’t as massive as Finn’s or Brody’s, but they were still well-defined with lean muscle. Overall, it looked like his body had been chiseled by Michaelangelo.
Then he stripped his shorts off. Unlike Brody, he wore a true Speedo. The kind that barely covered anything, least of all the thick bulge of his cock. I could see the outline of the shaft, and the head…
“Let’s get to it.” He dropped into the pool. “To warm up, give me four laps freestyle, then four laps breaststroke.”
I pulled on my cap, then readied my goggles. I didn’t want them to fog up, but I was also hesitant to spit into them in front of Max. But I also wanted to look like I knew what I was doing, and after my last swim I had Googled the spit trick. Turns out, it was legit.
I spit into my goggles, then dipped them under the water.
Max’s jaw dropped. “What the hell?”
“Oh! I thought everyone did this!”
“You come into my pool and start spitting?” he demanded. “What kind of…”
His anger disappeared and was replaced by laughter.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. You should have seen your face.”
I splashed water at him, but that only made him laugh harder.
I did my warm-up laps at an easy pace. My lungs burned after the freestyle laps, but recovered during breaststroke since it was easier. I focused on my form, and finished next to Max feeling pretty good about myself.
“We have a lot to work on,” he said.
I sneered. “Yeah, right. Very funny.”
He grimaced. “I’m serious. Your form needs a lot of adjustments.”
Even though I was there to get such advice, it stung to learn that I wasn’t perfect and amazing without any help. “Oh.”
He took on the attitude of a stern teacher. “Your legs are sinking in the water, which is creating a lot of drag. You need to kick more.”
“Okay.”
“I have an exercise to help you hammer-in the muscle memory. Grab the edge of the pool, and float on your belly.”
I did as I was told, sticking my legs out behind me to lay flat. But while remaining stationary, my feet sank down into the water.
“See that? That’s how you look while you’re swimming. You need to kick more to keep your legs parallel. Not harder, just more often. At least four kicks per arm-stroke. Go ahead and try that while I adjust you.”
I started kicking while gripping the edge of the pool. Max stood next to me, his Adonis-like torso sticking out of the water. Then I felt his hands tighten on both of my hips. My entire body tingled at his touch.
“Feel this?” He pulled up on my hips until my butt was sticking out of the water. “This is the kind of sensation you should feel while kicking. Like you’re kicking down into the water. This is obviously an exaggeration, but it’s the kind of thing I want you to imagine in your head. Now keep kicking.”
I flutter-kicked my legs while he held me up in the water.
“Good. Very good. Just like that. Now, turn and swim down and back.”
He let go of me so I could swim away. Now that I was moving, I could sense what he meant. Before, I was letting my legs drag too low in the water. I needed to engage my quads more, to keep them parallel.
“That was great!” he said when I swam back. “I thought I would have to adjust you a few more times, but you seemed to get it right away.”
“My muscle memory is coming back,” I admitted.
He smiled proudly. “I have a feeling you’re going to be a good student. Now, let’s talk about your breathing…”
We spent an hour in the pool going over lots of little things. He had me switch my breathing from every four strokes to every three. That way I could get more oxygen, and because it was better for my neck muscles to breathe on both the left and right side of my body. He also taught me an exhale exercise to make sure I was expelling all of the air from my lungs before taking a breath. As he explained it, I remembered learning about that when I was a kid.
By the time we were done, I was swimming more efficiently and easily.
“Normally, I schedule five or six follow-up lessons,” Max said. “But with you, I’m only going to schedule one.”
“I’m a quick learner,” I said happily as we climbed out of the pool.
“Are you sure you weren’t just pretending to swim with bad form?” he asked slyly. “I bet you did just want to see me shirtless.”
I grinned. “I have to admit: it was worth the lesson by itself.”
He tossed me a towel. “That goes for both of us, if you don’t mind me saying so.” He looked both ways, then leaned in to whisper. “Don’t let my bosses know I said that, though. We’re discouraged from flirting with our clients.”
I laughed nervously. “Yeah, no, of course. And, thank you. For the lesson, I mean. Not the compliment.”
“Any time.” His emerald eyes sparkled. “Running, cycling, now swimming… You’ll be doing a triathlon in no time.”
“Hah!”
“I’m serious. With your cross-country background, you could be good.”
“I’m a long way from being fast enough to compete,” I said. “Right now, I just want to not be bad at any of those things.”
Max dried his hair with the towel and stepped up close. “Let me tell you a secret. Being really bad at something is the first step to becoming really good at something.”
“You told me that last week, during the movie.”
He spread his long arms. “Well, if I said it twice then it must be doubly true.” He patted me gently on the arm. “See you next time, Kat.”
I felt good about myself as I showered and changed for my date with Brody. Being around Max was rejuvenating, psychologically. An hour with him and I felt like I could conquer the world.
And then I left the locker room, and came face-to-face with the last person I wanted to see.
17
Katherine
I stepped out of the locker room and into the lobby, then stopped in my tracks.
Finn was standing by the front door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked like he’d been waiting for me.
“Hey,” he said in that deep, easy voice. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
I followed him back into the trainer offices. It was an open floorplan, and his desk didn’t have any walls, but there was nobody else in there. Still, he pulled his chair close to mine so we could speak quietly.
“Listen, Kat…” he began.
I could tell he regretted what happened. It was as clear as could be. He was going to let me down right now. I was terrified of hearing him say the words.
“I made a mistake!” I said before he could. “You were giving me a normal, professional sports massage, and I crossed a line by kissing you.”
“We did more than just kiss, Kat.”
“Yeah, but that kiss is what started it. And it was my fault. I’m admitting that. So maybe we can just pretend like it never happened?”
Finn stared down at his feet. “I don’t think I can do that.”
“Why not?”
He looked up at me finally. “Because that was the hottest thing I’d ever done.”
I blinked. “Really?”
His dark hair swayed as he shook his head. “Are you kidding? We fucked in the massage room at work. That’s, like, straight out of a porn movie. The only thing missing was the cheesy dialogue about how tight you feel, and trying to loosen you up.”
