I push up on my hands and knees and try to redeem myself by cooly standing up. I try to wipe the embarrassed look off my face and act like I didn’t just eat it.
“I apologize. I was momentarily…distracted. But I promise to focus. Now, where do we start?” She examines me like bacteria growing in a petri dish, turning up her nose slightly but also interested to find out more.
Valentina’s eyes scan me, the cogs in her brain grinding, and she catches her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Fine,” she finally says. “Monty and William are counting on me to fix you, and I won’t let them down. I need you to take this seriously. This is about your future, and if you want it to be prosperous, you’ll start to listen.”
I gulp, digesting all of her words and the reality that will hit me in the face like a steamroller if I don’t get in line with what Monty and Coach want. I don’t want to watch someone else living my life from the bench. I refuse to be that guy who could’ve been good if only he didn’t let the fame go to his head.
“Okay,” I concede. “Just point me in the direction and I’ll follow.”
She dips her chin then reaches over and presses a few buttons to get my treadmill moving again. I hop on and begin picking up speed. The two of us run side by side and I listen to her lay out the new plan for my life.
Is it really my life anymore?
8
VALENTINA
Me: Lucy. S.O.S. Are you free tonight?
Lucy: Yes! Finally! Do you need me to bring my waxing kit? You don’t want any stubbies getting in the way of that fine man chowing down.
Me: WTF Luce! What is wrong with you? You know what, nevermind. You’ll only make things worse.
Lucy: No. Come back. I’m sorry. I’ll be a good friend. When and where?
Me: A good friend? That’ll be a first.
Lucy: Hardy-har-har.
Me: Chachi’s at seven?
Lucy: Ándale, chica. Nos vemos a las siete.Besitos.
Me: I’m kicking myself for teaching you Spanish.
Lucy:
“Chachi’s, huh? Is it any good? I’ve never been.” I darken my phone and look over my shoulder.
Nico stands there, a giant grin on his face and still shirtless. Apparently, a shirt with huge gaps on either side was still too stifling to be working out in. The moment we stepped off the treadmill, the t-shirt got yanked over his head and my vagina decided to cross the picket lines where it has been protesting opening for a man for the fifth month straight.
Oh, and how about that little shock I got when I saw a small silver bar straight through his nipples. I diverted my eyes as quickly as they found him. I didn’t want to know when he got them, why he got them, or what pleasure they bring. All I wanted to do was forget I ever saw them.
“Excuse you. That was a private conversation.” I slide my phone back under the waistband of my shorts and prop my hands on my hips.
Sweat drips down my chest, puddling between my boobs as my heart works to regulate after the four minute plank Nico had me doing. I was in pain for three of the four minutes, but I refused to let him see me struggle. I used all the physical will power and brain power to keep me locked in. Mind over matter, right?
“Sorry, but I was calling for you with no answer. I thought maybe you put your earbuds back in and turnedup the volume.” He pulls a towel that hangs from his shorts, and wipes it over his face and down his chest.
A chest that is custom built to every woman’s dream. Hard, defined pecs. A smattering of hair, neatly trimmed. Tattoos that only enhance the beautiful God-given canvas. And he does this thing with his mouth that makes me want to scream. His pink tongue pokes out and licks the corner of his mouth, hanging there like an invitation to find out if the rumors are true.
This is so incredibly unfair.
In the almost six years I have worked in PR crisis management, I have yet to see any of my clients as more than their problem. Be it alcohol or prostitutes or running over people in golf carts, they were always just a case. But now Nico bulldozes his way into my world and is dangerously close to toppling my well built wall. One loose brick and the whole thing will come tumbling down, and my legs will fall right open.
This is not the man to break my sex-strike for. I’m done with playboys and guys looking for “just a good time”. If I’m going to spend what little free time I have with someone, he better be the right one and looking for end game. None of this “I’m finding myself” shit. Been there, done that.
