"We should get matching tattoos on our arms," he mumbled, poking my bicep.
I let out a laugh at that, "I told you I'm not getting any tattoos above my elbow until I get rid of my arm flab."
"Hm," he smirked, "We can do that."
"I hate the gym."
"Why? We haven't even started."
"All the pretty, skinny bitches looking at you."
"Forget them, seriously. Now, we're gonna start off on treadmill. You love running."
I grumbled out a few curses since he was right and looked around before spotting a girl staring at us. She was pretty, had abs and muscles, but her boobs were smaller than my poor fellas and she had no ass.
I stuck my tongue out at her and ran to catch up with him.
A few hours later, he had us on mats doing push-ups. I made it to three before giving up.
He came back up from his fifth and stopped, "You can't quit, come on."
"No, my arms hurt from weights."
"You big baby."
I giggled and wiggled my way underneath him.
"What are you doing?"
"Motivation. Go!"
He rolled his eyes and glanced around to make sure no one was watching us. No one cared, anymore. They stopped watching after I slapped his ass and not the other way around.
He locked eyes with me for a second before doing push-ups again.
I giggled the first time when our noses touched, then the next I pecked his lips.
His face turned beet red and I just wanted to hug him, but this was fun the way it was.
"You know, when my arms do give out, I'm gonna crush you."
"Eh, you can't crush a marshmallow, only flatten it."
"You aren't a marshmallow."
"I'm white and fluffy like one."
"Why are you like this?"
"Why aren't you on number 8 yet?"