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.
My eyes flick up to the dancers in the class, and this one right in front of me at the back of the class immediately catches my attention. She's wearing tight-as-all-hell Lululemon black spandex pants and a cropped sports top, showing off her nice slim waist. A pleasant view to have while working out, for sure, but I shouldn't be a creep and stare, so I get back to what I'm doing.
Pressing my back flat against the vertical backrest, I bend my arms ninety degrees at the elbows, place them against the pads, gripping the handles, and start my reps, bringing my arms in to close in front of me and back out again. Just then, the hot chick bends forward at the waist to touch her outstretched foot, showing off her beautifully toned.. ass-ets—so how can I not look, right? Damn. I wonder if her face is as fine as the rest of her. Maybe I'd make an exception to my no-dating girls at the gym rule.
The class turns to the right, and I can see the profile of most, but not this girl; she's got her head turned back toward the instructor. She must be the new girl. Focus Gio. I squeeze my pecks to close the heavy weights in front of me and open them again slowly. Suddenly, my body jerks in surprise, and the stack of weights plummet down their cord with a bang. Shit! The entire class has turned to face me, including my mystery girl, and suddenly, my once eager eyes are assaulted by the one girl I can't seem to get away from now.
Ren! Fuck!
Her eyes grow as wide as headlights, and she falls quickly out of sync with the other dancers, turning too late and nearly falling over her own feet onto her ass. I'd love to laugh at that, but I'm currently having trouble moving myself—my face still slack from shock. My eyes still fixate on her as she gets back into the song.
Shit. Now I know why I picked her out.
My 'type' has always been Lauren Baker: brunette, classically beautiful, slim with long legs and a nice round ass, and now here she actually is—again. Am I destined to keep running into her? Or is she somehow stalking me? My teeth tug on my bottom lip as I think about that.
As she turns back to the front, I take her in fully now, watching her body make the sexy, choreographed shapes. The stupid, repetitive song is a benefit now. I can anticipate her bending forward again, which she executes perfectly, and even lower and slower this time. Oh, oh—oh fuck yeah. My wide-open eyes are hell-bent on recording this footage for later tonight. Suddenly I see her eyes peeking back between her legs, catching me staring at her... crotch—oh shit.
Time to get the hell out of here.
Quickly wiping down the bench seat, I grab my water bottle and take off toward the locker rooms before the class ends.
"Gio!" I hear her call after me. A lightning bolt of electricity shoots through me at the sound of her voice calling my name, and it's all I can do to keep walking and not turn around.
"Hey, Gio!" she calls again as I turn the corner into the hall.
Fuck she's gaining on me. I can't go any faster without it becoming embarrassingly obvious I'm running from her.
"Hey!"
Shit.
Her voice is right behind me just as I get into the hall. I'm trapped. If I don't respond now, I'm an asshole. Reluctantly, I turn, and my whole body tenses as I put up my force field to attempt to protect myself from her intoxicating pull. She's flushed and breathless from her class and so fucking beautiful now. I swallow hard the extra saliva that has backed up into my mouth.
In high school, it was absurd how quickly I became addicted to her—and before I really knew it, she had swept my heart out to sea in her invisible riptide, and I can tell it could happen now, too... so quickly. I can't let her do it to me—not again. I'll just quickly say hi and excuse myself.
"Hi, Ren," my voice vibrates low and cautiously.
She's closing the distance between us, unaware she's like a siren, tempting me to wreck my ship in her black skin-tight spandex. Hooking my eyes with hers as she comes even closer, my pupils dilate a little more with each step, my heart beating like someone pounding down a door.
"Hi, um, I was hoping to see you around the office." The smile brightening her face is genuine, and she seems cheerful—as if the horrible way we ended between us never even occurred. "I wanted to..." she trails off, looking suddenly lost.
Wanted to what? I communicate with my stare.
She fidgets and tightens her ponytail. "I mean, I was hoping we could, um, catch up. Maybe meet up sometime?"
"What?" my eyebrows shoot skyward. "Catch up? Like, meet up after work?"
Yeah. No shit, Sherlock. Of course, that's what she means.
She looks down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then flicks her eyes to mine, "Yeah, or on the weekend... I'm free tonight, actually."
She says it with a causal shrug, but it's like she effortlessly tossed a grenade into my head, biting her lip innocently as she watches it detonate.
What?! See each other again? To-fucking-night! Ren, what the hell!
It's like she flicked a game board spinner in my mind, and I can't think straight. This whole encounter is escalating too quickly. What is her aim here? Does she think she can suddenly show back up after eleven years and be friends with me? I don't fucking think so. See me on a weekend night? Like a date or some shit? Is she still even fucking married?!! I can't even fuckin—
Stop. I can feel my blood pressure rising to an unhealthy level. I need to chill. Closing my eyes, I slowly inhale to regroup and then pull down on the tight, long sleeves of my new grey Under Armour shirt and cross my arms. When I open them again, I squint my eyes at her, trying not to sound as agitated as I feel.
"Is this like a friendship thing or... Ren, what's going on?"
She immediately flushes, her cheeks turning an even rosier red. I've embarrassed her, but I don't fucking care, I need to know.
She fidgets again and adjusts the scoop neck of her sports bra, drawing my attention to the top of her exposed breasts, pushed tightly together, still glistening with slight perspiration—and right now, my dick is sending an overwhelming impulse through the synapses in my brain to rip them free. Without moving my eyes from hers, I clench my jaw to remind my cock to keep its thoughts to itself for now.
Ren's voice wavers, "Nothing's going on. Um, I mean, it doesn't have to be anything... I mean, unless..."
My eyes widen slightly. "Unless what?"
A tingly sensation flows from my chest down my arms, and I don't know if I'm excited or shit-scared to know the answer to that.
She raises her voice in frustration, "God, Gio! I don't know!"
She crosses her arms and huffs, looking down. I've pushed her too far, and now I feel like a jerk. But why should I? If she's married, what is she doing trying to 'catch-up' with an ex-boyfriend of hers?
"Okay, Ren," I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. "It's just that... I mean... I heard you were married—okay?"
Her brow furrows, "You heard? From who?"
"Well, like, I..." Shit. I stalk you on the internet. "I just know, okay? Does it matter? Aren't you?" my voice coming out a bit too pointedly.
"No," she says flatly, staring me right in the eyes before dropping them and adding quietly, "Not anymore."
Something like "oh" escapes my esophagus. But, HOLLY@$$F*CK^N*T%$H!TB@LL$! and a multitude of other chaotic curses are exploding in my head due to Ren nonchalantly pressing down on that divorce news missile of hers.
My brain scrambles to collect the pieces again and check for collateral damage. But besides the air getting knocked out of my lungs for a second time today and the fact that my insides are shooting off dopamine like a fucking fireworks celebration, I think I've held my face together pretty damn well.
I need NOT to look as happy as I feel about this.
"Soooo," I say, exploring my cheek with my tongue, then dropping my voice, "Is that why you moved back home?"
"Yeah."
"Oh," I reply, looking down and biting my lip. I kinda feel bad for her, even if the guy did look like a total twat. Well, he'd have to be to divorce Ren. "Sorry... I guess," I can't help but tack on at the end.
Her eyes still focus on her trainers as she mumbles, "It's okay." But I know it's probably not.
Time weighs down on us for a second, and the air feels heavy and charged with several potential outcomes. Abruptly, she breaks the silence, "Are you married or together... with anyone?"
"No," I breathe before I have time to censor myself.
Immediately, she flicks her eyes to mine, and they are electric and vulnerable. My heart throbs for her. Oh shit. I flex my jaw as I try to stop the feeling before it grows, but it's probably way too fucking late. Her eyes disarm me every time. I fucking really want to see her too. Shit. Shit.
But it doesn't have to be a big deal. Right? Just have dinner with her? Catch up? Nothing more than that. Just one evening with her...
"Okay, well... sure," I say slowly, feeling a bit like an alcoholic accepting a drink after getting sober.
Her nose wrinkles in confusion, "Sure, what?"
A small smile breaks itself free, "Sure, let's go out tonight. Catch up."
Her eyes go wide, "Great!" she blurts out, then clears her throat, immediately trying to correct to sound and look more casual and utterly failing. "Where?"
Her self-conscious cuteness just makes me smile harder. You can't hide it from me. You're super excited, Ren, I can tell. Fuck. So am I. I can not believe I'm doing this, but it feels fan-fucking-tastic!
"Um, I don't know yet," I shrug, not being able to wipe the dumbass smile off my face. "I'll pick you up."
Just wait till you see what I pick you up in. I'm getting hard just thinking about it.
"What time?"
"How about seven? Where do you live now."
In response, she scrunches her eyes and presses her lips together.
What? What did I say?
"Um, temporarily at my mom's," she nearly groans, turning bright pink.
She looks so embarrassed about it, and it's like she's teen Ren all over again, and I'm ashamed to admit it, but not only does it boost my ego a few more notches, it makes me want her more.
"Oh yeeeah?" I drawl. "She live in the same house I used to go to?"
Suddenly, memories of her and me, wet and naked, having sex in her pool, on the sofa, and on her bed, play in high def in my brain, and more blood travels south. By the flicker in Ren's eyes, I'm pretty sure one or two of those same memories might also be flashing in her mind as well. I smile to myself. You remember that too, don't you, Ren?
"Yep," she confirms, biting her plump pink lip, and my dick twitches.
Calm your nuts, Gio. That's not what she meant, and that's not on the table... yet.
Shit.
Now all I'm thinking about is fucking her on a table. I try to stop it, but the images keep coming: Her legs draped over my shoulders, looking down to see my thick cock slide in and out of her wet warm pussy while my hands grab tightly onto her hips. Her perky breasts bounce as I roughly slam into her, her back arching, moaning my na—
JESUS Gio! Come on! Wake-up man. She's fucking staring right at you!
I blink back into reality a few times, and my neck grows hot, my pulse quickly increasing—I'm glad she can't see inside my filthy brain right now. I thrust my hands in my pockets to discreetly push my rapidly developing hard-on against my leg cause I'm about to go from six to midnight, and I don't want to pitch my loose gym shorts in front of her right now.
I smile through my heated cheeks, "Okay... um... I'll see you later then."
"See you later," she sweetly smiles back, completely clueless. I'm such a dog compared to her.
Then we both push open our respective locker room doors and part ways. Once the door has banged shut, I swiftly step to the side and crash against the cool white subway tile.
Fuck. What did I just do?
♥︎♥︎♥︎