KICK IT | JENLISA

46

Jennie

"From now on, we're working on your shoulder." I told Lisa when she opened the front door.

Her baggy, ball-presenting athletic shorts were replaced by a more fitted option from my suggestion list. Her grey shirt would wick moisture, not ideal for a full class because, hello back sweat-created fart sounds on the mat, but it worked for today's focus. It hugged her chest and shoulder muscles, hanging loose around her stomach. A sparkle in her eyes paired with a tiny smirk. "Stop checking me out."

"I'm checking out my recommendations." I brushed past her. "And, I might be a minority, but I appreciate not having a front-row seat to the Lisa Manoban nuts and bolt show."

Her hand cupped her jaw, stroking her sharp jawline. If she was a cartoon, a forked tongue, slanted eyes, and devil's horns would have appeared. "So, you've been noticing my nuts and bolt."

"I've been noticing your discomfort." I corrected her, keeping how much she was packing in her pants to myself. "It's equally uncomfortable trying not to notice it."

She was going to take that wrong too. Lisa's weeks three and four at the studio had, annoyingly, shifted the dynamics of my classes. My sweet, loving, arthritic retirees were pushed out by a younger crowd best described in two words: thirsty and desperate.

Mat by mat, sighs, sweet old lady scents, and grunts were replaced with giggles, batted lashes, and Lisa-gawking. Yesterday, Simi received a complaint about class availability, prompting her to request another class. While I appreciated another hour of pay, starting next week I would teach back-to-back with an intermission of Lisa being chased after by a herd of desperate vaginas.

"Jennie?" A faint blush of pink spread over her cheeks as she shut the door. She cleared her throat, rubbing the back of her neck. "About that... uhh, discomfort."

"Let me guess." By how fast my smile appeared, it wanted to jump off my face. "Yoga's squeezing the lemons?"

Her shoulders bounced with one of her rich, hearty laughs. "Sometimes, yeah."

Never guessed we'd talk about that today. Great, now I'm thinking about them. I wrinkled my nose, though probably not as much as... not going... fuck, stop thinking about her nuts and bolt. While personally unrelatable, enough options existed to give her family jewels breathing space. "Sure. Lead the way."

"Not what I thought we'd start with." Her grumbling made me smile. I trailed behind her bare feet, not concentrating on the shifts and swells of her back and glute muscles. Nope.

The past two weeks were filled with a lot of reflection moments. I didn't know much about Lisa from our conversations. Her actions contrasted my prior beliefs that she operated her life in an uppity bubble decorated with Lisa Manoban wallpaper. Jackson accusing me of misjudging Lisa was annoying as fuck. We weren't friends but the 'I work for you now' line blurred my brain more than my strongest hangover. As long as we didn't mention the accident night, maybe a platonic relationship could work.

"About your shoulder?" I had one setup planned and no backup if Lisa wasn't on board. Snapping into serious work mode, her eyes peered over her shoulder. "I reviewed Bambam's plan for rebuilding your strength."

I didn't want Lisa to think we planned her rehab without Bambam's input. Interest flashed in her eyes as she held open the workout room's door, prompting me to continue.

"Thanks." Dropping my mat, I unrolled it next to hers. "Instead of doing the same stuff and risking overworking the muscle you tore, I think we can improve range of motion by keeping it loose."

"Makes sense." Lisa sat with a frown, crossed her left elbow over her chest, and cupped the top of her shoulder. She did that whenever her rehab came up. Hairline cracks in that cement-hard cocky exterior offered a rare glimmer of uncertainty, which was surprisingly humble but deserved respect. "Bam switched me from weights to plyo, which keeps me in good shape, using the same idea of loose muscles."

The 'but it's not enough' she implied was correct. "Do you have any movements where the muscle is pulling or pushing back?" At her hesitation, I added, "I'm not allowed to tell anyone."

Legally, I was silenced, but my only friends were Jackson and Irene, and Lisa's shoulder limitations weren't the topic of our dinner conversations. After a long pause, Lisa nodded. The small gesture pulled a tightening sensation in my chest. She was trusting me. "I think loosening it could help, Lisa."

Chewing on her lower lip, she traced the arc on the bottom of her shoulder and debated the approach. She wasn't saying no, but she wasn't saying yes either.

"I get it." I plopped down and pulled a block out of my bag, which she eyed. "For a professional athlete, 'let's stretch it out' probably sounds weird."

The grin that spread across her face was such a sharp contrast to her serious demeanour. I blinked. "First time you've acknowledged me as one."