She holds up her hand to stop me. “Just make sure I’m your maid of honor when you marry Lucky Ganetti.”
“Sure.” This time, I let her see my eye roll. She’s insane. Well, okay. Yes, I’ve fantasized about marrying Lucky, but that’s all it is. A fantasy.
“We’ll go first thing in the morning.” Deena’s already planning. Only one problem.
“I’ve got class.”
Slapping the table lightly, she snaps, “You always have class. God. That gets so tiresome.”
I want to laugh, but I’d better not. “I’m done at noon. Can we go after that?”
“I guess.” She sounds put off, but that turns into a bright smile and there’s now a chirp to her voice. Clapping like she just got a new puppy, she adds, “This isexciting. Ooh.” She stops clapping. “I’ll go buy myself something cute to wear while you’re at class.”
“Good idea.” Trust me. Deena has plenty of cute workout clothes. But one more outfit won’t hurt, I guess.
10
Becklyn
“What are you doing here, Becklyn?”
I look up from my spot on the floor. The kickboxing instructor told us to lie on our backs and do something called crunches.
I already hate crunches.
I blink up at Lucky and can’t help noticing, well, everything. His stance. It’s one I’ve seen many times. Arms crossed. And is he tapping his foot at me? I can’t worry about that; instead I take notice of his clothes. Baggy athletic shorts and a tight black T-shirt with the sleeves cut off revealing his unbelievable arms and those shoulders. Gah. He’s got big, round shoulders that flex with muscles when he moves. His whole look is good on him, because even though the shorts are baggy, they still hang just right.
“Becklyn,” he repeats, sounding peeved. “I asked you a question.”
It’s an odd question, really. Can’t he see I’m working out? I mean, he must’ve seen me through the window. The one that looks out onto the main floor of the huge gym. Then, he came inside where the Introduction to Kickboxing class is currently taking place.
Quickly, I glance up to the front at our instructor. I learned pretty quickly that the woman running the class wants our full attention. If she doesn’t have it, she yells.
Whispering, I say, “I’m in class.” Pointing up to our angry little leader, I add, “Don’t get me into trouble with Stalin up there.”
“Foxy.” Lucky sounds amused but also serious. “Answer my question.”
“She’s working out,” Deena pipes up from somewhere behind me. “Duh.”
Pointing at the door, he says, “When you’re done, I want to talk to you.”
“Sure.” My turn to point at the door. “Now go before you seriously get me into trouble.”
“You,” the instructor shouts as she points right at me. “Why aren’t you doing crunches?”
“See?” My turn to get snippy with him. “Go.” I point toward the door again.
He glares at me, but he goes.
* * *
“That was intense,”Deena says as soon as we’re out of the room.
Of course, she still looks perfect in her entirely pink outfit. Heck, even her new tennis shoes are pink. I look down at myself and frown. I’m wearing black workout leggings and a huge gray T-shirt with the words “I’m Not For Everyone” on the front. I splurged on it when I saw it because it made me laugh. Plus, it came in a 3X, which means it’s nice and baggy, hanging long, practically down to my knees. In other words, it’s perfect. I’m also dripping with sweat. I glance at Deena again and wonder if she actually exercised. Her hair is still perfect. Mine is soggy and hanging down into my face. The back of my neck is wet with sweat, and I feel it still running down my back. It’s gross. But do you know what? I feel really good. I know I look like crapola, but I don’t care.
“How was it?” Lucky says from right behind me. He’s close; he can probably smell me.
Ick.Now, I care. I slowly turn to face him.
