“There’s more to life than big dicks,” I grumble.
“Duh.” They scoff in agreement. “It’s rarely a bad thing though.”
Well, I can’t exactly argue with that. I sniff indignantly anyway.
“I didn’t notice because he’s my trainer and he doesn’t need me ogling him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have fitness to attend to,” I say primly.
“Love you, Perce,” they call after me.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. “I love you too.”
It’s entirely too cold to be wearing booty shorts this morning. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself as I haul ass to the bus, promising myself that I will get some proper gym clothes this week. I bounce my legs to keep the blood flow going during the short ride, and then I power walk from the bus stop to Sweat.
Butch is waiting near the desk, just like the last two times I came in. I’m sure he greets all of his personal training clients the same way. Instead of push-ups, he’s doing jumping jacks thismorning, and it’s entirely Juno’s fault that the first thing I notice is the bounce of hisverynoticeable bulge with every jump.
“Hey, Butch,” I say in a high, cheerful tone, fixing my eyes on his face and refusing to let them wander.
“Rocky.” That big smile of his stretches across his face, and his eyes light up like he’s genuinely excited to see me.
My heart rate kicks up immediately, and I fight the urge to giggle like an idiot. He must have guys tripping over themselves left and right for him. How can anyone resist his seemingly natural talent for making a guy just feel…special? Stupid, stupid, stupid, I chastise myself. I’m not special, he’s just a ridiculously friendly guy.
“Hey,” I mutter again, swallowing hard and suddenly forgetting the normal thing to do with my hands. I put them on my hips, but that feels weird, so I let them drop by my sides, except they just kind of hang there like limp noodles. Finally I cross my arms and awkwardly shuffle my feet.
Butch rakes his gaze over me for a second, and I try not to squirm.
“No crop top today?” There’s just a hint of teasing in his voice that makes my stomach flip and flutter.
“I’ll wear a crop top again once I have a six-pack,” I say with a laugh.
He doesn’t seem to pick up on the joke I’m making though—clearly, that it’s laughable to think I’ll ever have a six-pack—and instead of laughing along with me, he nods solemnly.
“Sounds like a good goal for us to put on your list.”
“No, I—” I chuckle and uncross my arms, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand. “Okay, yeah, sure. Why not?”
“Kick-ass.” He pats me roughly on the shoulder, and even though I’m ready for it, I still stumble a little from the force. “Come on, let’s get started on your warm-up, and while we do that, we can talk about the rest of your goals.”
BUTCH
Percy is walking a little stiffly, but he doesn’t hesitate quite as long before hopping on the treadmill this morning, so I’ll count that as a win. He sets the machine to a brisk walk and I get on the one next to him at a light jog.
“Alright, goals,” I say once we’re moving.
“I don’t know.” He lets out a little huff of a laugh, reaching back to tug on his shorts as they start to ride up between his cheeks. “Are these meant to be short term? Long term? Realistic? Aspirational? How do people usually approach their goal setting for fitness? Do you use the SMART model?”
“Uh…” I scratch my head. “It’s like, you know, a way to keep your eye on the prize, something to aim for and work towards.”
“I know what goals are,” he says with another laugh, and I shrink a little.
Of course he knows what a goalis. That was dumb. I don’t know what some of that stuff he said was though, which isn’t that surprising since he’s a genius and I’m the same dumb jock I was back when I was barely passing high school. Never even bothered with college.
I turn up my speed and run a little bit faster.
“Right,” I say cheerfully, hoping he doesn’t think I’m a fucking moron now, “why don’t you tell me a couple of things that sound really achievable to you and at least one thing that you wouldliketo achieve but maybe sounds scary or out of reach.”
“Okay.” He’s breathing a little harder, but so far, he seems to be setting a good pace for his warm-up compared to yesterday. “Well, achievable I guess would be jogging a mile without feeling like I’m going to die and, um, I guess the six-pack thing wetalked about.” He mumbles that last part like he doesn’t really believe it’s doable, but I grin at him because as long as he commits, both of those goals are cake.
“And a goal you think sounds out of reach?”
