“You again. You’re like herpes, never fucking go away.”
“Thank you.” I grinned.
“That wasn’t a…” He broke off, shaking his head before turning back to the door and pushing it open.
The door nearly slammed in my face. Without some fast reflexes of my own, it would’ve. Yet, I quickly grabbed the doorhandle before it shut, allowing me to follow him inside.
About halfway to his office he paused and turned to me.
“I didn’t invite you in.”
I shrugged. “If I waited for an invite, I’d be waiting all day. I don’t have that kind of time and neither do you.”
“What I don’t have time for is more of your bullshit. What the hell do you want?”
“I’ve already told you what I want, but it’s not about what I want, it’s about what you need.”
He raised one dark brow. “What I need,” he repeated, folding his arms over his chest. I nodded. “And what is that exactly?”
“Me.” I hold out my arms wide as if the answer was obvious.
He rolled his eyes and turned away from me, heading in the direction of his office. “I don’t like women.” He waved a dismissive hand in the air.
“It doesn’t matter to me that you’re gay.”
He halted abruptly, spinning around to face me, his face stormy. “I’m not fucking gay.”
“Oh, you’re not?” I questioned, a surprised expression covering my face.
His lips firmed and his nostrils flared, and a small bubble of satisfaction rose in my belly. For some reason, it felt good to rattle him a little.
“Get the hell out.”
I shook my head and continued following him as he turned on his heels in the direction of his office, flicking on the lights of the gym.
“You tried that yesterday and it didn’t work. Say, did you get any sort of ice bath or massage work done since we last spoke?”
“What? Why?”
“Because as your trainer, I need to know these things. I’m certain you’re well aware of the need to properly take care of your body after putting it through such a grueling activity. You don’t need me to tell you that.”
His frown deepened. “Go back to the part about you being my trainer.”
“As your trainer—”
“Yeah see, that’s the part that doesn’t work for me.” He pushed past me and headed in the direction of the punching bags, but I followed.
“Well, seeing as how you don’t have any other head trainers and—”
“Did I say you were like herpes a few minutes ago?” He spun around asking.
“I believe you did.”
“I was wrong. You’re more like a boil on the bottom of an ass that refuses to get better until it abscesses, and you have to go into the fucking ER to get it treated.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Now, I do believethatwas an insult.”
“You catch on quickly.”
