Fate Interrupted

6.1 - Caught

Gio

"Hi, Gio!" Kymberli chirps, waving to me from behind the long, modern-looking reception desk—her crinkled middle-aged eyes, flanked by spider-like clumped mascara, bat like tiny wings above her million-dollar smile. "The Personal Trainer position is still open. Are you sure you don't want to apply? It's pretty fu-un," she sings. 

 Presenting my gym card for her to scan, my face squinches, "I don't know."

"Come on. You're here every day anyway. You'll get to work out for free and get paid while you're at it."

That would be a good perk. The Gym membership here at Gym Hero is not cheap, but it's clean and doesn't reak like The Power Gym—that place is full of roid monkeys and creeps. It's light and bright here, with big windows and lots of glass, even some plants dotted around the space, creating a calming vibe. It's kinda my place to get away, be alone and center myself. I think making it my workplace would fuck that all up.

Plus, Kym's such a cougar to me as it is; I wouldn't want her to be my boss. She's finally taken Aaron's photo off the wall—the last good-looking personal trainer she lost. I just know she's angling to get a photo of me up there so she can market it to all the potential members on the fence about whether to join or not—mm-mm, hard pass.

"Nah, no thanks," I reply.

She pumps some lotion onto her hands and rubs it into her orange, spray-tanned, toned arms as I walk away. "Think about it, sweetheart," she calls as I head further in to start my routine, then turns her attention to someone just walking in the door. "Welcome to Gym Hero! How can I help you today."

"I'm interested in signing up for dance classes," an attractive-sounding female voice replies.

"Okay, great! Have you been a member here before?" 

"Nope."

See. Just the potential member Kym would die to make more money on upselling selling a personal trainer.

First, I start out with a quick ten minutes on the rowing machine before moving on to weights. Today is my chest and back day, so I walk to the dumbbell section of the gym. I like to start off a little lighter than I could do, so I grab two eighty-pounders and go lay down on my back on the bench. 

As I start my reps, my mind wanders. I've been really struggling this week after seeing Ren again. I thought I'd finally forgotten about her, healed from the spiral I went into after she left, come to terms with being single for the rest of my life. But after seeing her only briefly, it brought all the anger and heartache raging right back from the depths I guess it was lurking in. Yesterday's session helped, but Mr Thompson wants me to start up my mood diary again—I fucking hate recording that shit. But it's probably smart—better than having to up my meds.

Some might call me a coward. I avoided running into her again yesterday by exiting down the back stairs. A big part of me desperately wants to see her again. But that's just my weak, needy heart that can't seem to learn its damn lesson. What I need to do is protect it from getting hurt again, which inevitably leads to falling into the darkness and fucking screwing up my life for the umpteenth time.

It sucks that I know where to find her. That she's so close now—in a building I have to go into every week. It's such a motherfucking temptation. But I'm scared that if I give in, even just the littlest bit, that'll be like base jumping off a cliff—exhilarating, yes, but dangerous as hell. No, my life is finally stable now, and Ren is off-limits.

After the free weight exercises, I move to the pec deck machine and sit down, adjusting the weight to 225lbs. There's a dance class going on as usual on Saturday mornings, and the hyper and incessant pop music that seeps out of there tends to drive me partially insane. So usually, I bring my MP3 player with me, but I forgot it today, so I'm stuck listening to this repetitive Lady Gaga crap.