I stand outside my apartment anxiously shifting my weight from one foot to the other while waiting for Rhodes to get here. I figure if he's taking the time out of his day to come pick me up I shouldn't leave him waiting.
I almost ordered an Uber just to spite him, still finding the idea of him driving all the way from the gym to come pick me up ridiculous, but then I thought of the inevitable guilt I'd feel for him then going out of his way for nothing.
Damn him.
As soon as I see his truck turning into the parking lot I make my way to meet him at the curb, getting in as soon as he comes to a complete stop. I'm instantly greeted by the clean smell of his car and a surprised look on his face.
"Eager?" he asks, and I detect a hint of amusement in his tone.
I scowl at him, and he has the audacity smirk, humor glimmering in his gray eyes. "Let's just get this over with," I grumble, pulling on my seatbelt.
He takes that as his cue to start driving, pursing his lips together to suppress his amusement at my curtness.
We drive the ten minute distance to the gym in slightly awkward silence, neither of us knowing how to strike up a conversation. I'm thoroughly relieved when we finally arrive at the gym, and I can't get my seatbelt off fast enough, opening the car door, ready to jump out.
That is until Rhodes asks, "Ready for arms today?"
I instantly freeze in the seat, groaning in agony. I turn my body back into the car, closing the door and pulling my seatbelt back on. "Never mind, take me back home."
He chuckles, twisting to reach into the back seat, grabbing his gym bag, simultaneously grabbing mine from the floorboard by my feet before I can stop him. He climbs out of truck, effortlessly tossing both bags over his large shoulder and rounding the bed of the truck to come open my door.
"Come on," he coaxes, surprisingly patient.
"Uh-uh," I shake my head, crossing my arms like a stubborn child.
He leans against the open car door, his amused expression turning a bit exasperated. "Come on, Claire."
"But I hate arm day," I whine.
He shrugs a shoulder, the one with the bags slung over it. "No pain, no gain."
I scoff with disgust. "Ew. That was such a gym bro thing to say."
The corner of his mouth twitches. "Come on, quit stalling, because I'll drag you in there kicking and screaming if I have to."
"Don't you dare touch me," I warn.
He seems completely unfazed by my threat—probably because he could easily crush me to a pulp. "Fine," he says so casually, still completely unbothered. I'm surprised when he walks away, walking to the entrance with his keys dangling from his fingers.
I stare after him, skeptical as to how easy it was to get rid of him after he seemed so determined to get me into the gym.
I nearly jump out of my skin when the car alarm goes off, the sound piercing, blaring over and over again.
I look up to find Rhodes smirking at me over his shoulder, and when he reaches the front door he holds it open, expectantly waiting for me. I curse under my breath, unbuckling the seatbelt and scrambling out of the truck, slamming the door shut behind me.
"I hate you," I hiss at him before entering the gym.
"I know," he says, still as unbothered as ever, offering me my bag as I breeze past him.
I roughly snatch it from him and head to the locker room to get ready before reluctantly meeting him by the weights. We warm up and soon enough he puts me to work, rotating between machines and other pieces of equipment to make sure every muscle in my arms is burning.
Down on the bench press, I try my best to breathe evenly and ignore the twinge of pain starting to form in my left shoulder—something that has continuously flared up since the accident. I force myself to push through the pain, but on the last press something pinches in my shoulder, causing a bolt of pain to run through it. My left arm gives out and the bar nearly falls on my face but Rhodes is there to catch it, spotting me.
"Woah, you good?" he asks, placing the bar back on the rack.
I sit up, sucking in a sharp breath through my teeth. "Yeah," I say, despite rubbing at my shoulder. "My shoulder has just been messed up ever since the accident," I admit mindlessly.
I'm not looking at him, but I can hear the frown in his voice. "What accident?"
Shit.
I didn't mean to let that slip.
"Uh... I-I was in a car accident a year ago. Messed up my shoulder," I confess awkwardly, lamely.
I muster up the courage to look over my shoulder at him, and as I detected there's a concerned frown on his face. "How bad was the accident?" he asks.
I swallow thickly, my throat suddenly dry. Twisting back around, away from him, I look down at my shoes before admitting, "Totaled the car. Broke a few bones."
I can practically feel the frown on his face deepen with pity. "But you're okay now?" he asks, and I think I almost hear a hint of genuine concern.
"Minus the shoulder, yeah," I say mechanically.
He comes closer, and I can feel him standing right behind me. "Can I try?"
Confused, I turn around to look at him and he gestures to my shoulder I'm still rubbing at. "Huh?"
"I took a couple of classes back in college and learned a bit about massage therapy. I could help you out with that," he says, motioning to my shoulder again.
"Oh, you don't have to," I insist, shaking my head.
"It's not a big deal," he says, already moving closer, placing his large hands on my shoulders.
I instantly tense up at his touch, but it doesn't seem to faze him, because he keeps going. And eventually it feels... nice, and I actually let myself relax. His fingers rub deep into my flesh, targeting the right muscles, making me nearly groan with relief at how good it feels.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his deep voice nearly making me jump, and I suddenly realize how close he is and how intimate the moment actually is—especially in the middle of a crowded gym.
I clear my throat, my shoulders starting to gain a little tension back in them, but he just rubs it out with his wonderful fingers. "Yeah."
"Good," he says, sounding satisfied.
"Yeah," I repeat lamely, slowly pulling out of his hold. He gets the hint and lets me go. "Thanks, I feel a lot better," I admit, standing, rolling both shoulders for good measure.
He nods, taking a step back, giving me space, probably sensing my discomfort. "No problem."
"So... back to it?" I ask, trying to ease some of the awkwardness.
"Yeah, but let's give the arms a rest for today and just hit some cardio for the rest of the session," he suggests.
I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God."
He chuckles and we get back to work.
The car ride back to my apartment is just as awkward—maybe even more so—than the ride to the gym. Particularly when my brain keeps wandering back to his touch on my body.
As soon as he pulls up to my apartment I rummaged through my gym bag, pulling out a twenty dollar bill and offering it to him.
He scowls at the money, not making any sort of effort to take it. "What is that for?"
"For gas, remember?"
He looks at me like I have two heads. "You don't have to give me money for gas."
I roll my eyes. "Yes, I do. You went out of your way to—"
"I didn't go out of my way," he stubbornly interrupts.
I groan in frustration. "You did and it's probably less than I would have had to pay for an Uber anyway so take it," I insist, practically shoving the money in his face.
"I'm not taking it, Claire," he says with finality.
I clinch my jaw. "Fine," I grit out.
He seems to relax a little. "Good. I'll pick you up tomorrow at the same time."
I nod, taking off my seatbelt and grabbing my bag. Just before I slip out of the truck, I quickly fling open the glove compartment and throw the twenty inside.
"Claire!" Rhodes yells, but his voice is cut off when I slam the door closed, running towards my front door with a triumphant grin on my face.
Just as I unlock the door he calls out my name again, and I look over my shoulder to see him through the open window of the truck, brooding. He holds the twenty between his middle and forefinger, emphasizing it, looking annoyed. "Don't you dare do this shit again," he warns.