He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth and stays quiet for a minute. I focus on my jogging and give him time to organize his thoughts or work up the courage to say whatever it is out loud. I’m already making a mental plan for his workouts to gradually get him to those first two easy goals without burning him out too fast.
“It’s really dumb, but I saw a sign-up for a half-marathon in the spring,” he says. “I’m sure that’s way too soon, but maybe the year after if I can stick with a fitness plan and a meteor doesn’t hit the earth or anything…”
“Yeah, I’ve been seeing the ads. It’s, like, seven more months away; that’s plenty of time for you to train.”
His eyebrows fly up and he makes a wheezing, choking sound. “There’s no way I can go fromthis—” He flaps his hands wildly in a vague gesture at himself. “—to running a half fucking marathon in seven months.”
“I’m not saying you’ll take first place, but I can definitely get you in shape enough to finish it. Tell you what, I’ll sign up for it too.”
Percy snorts. “Wow, there’s a motivator. I’ll get to embarrass myself in front of a million people watching the raceandmeet you at the finish line where you’ll barely be winded after finishing a full five hours before me.”
“Dude, I donothave a runner’s body. Have you seen the people who run marathons? It’s a pain in the ass to haul this amount of bulk around.”
“It’s true,” AJ chimes in from the leg press, where he’s coaching his own client this morning. “Big muscles don’t giveyou any kind of advantage in a half-marathon. If you train right, you might even be able to finish before him.”
Percy slows his treadmill from a slow jog to a walk to catch his breath and eyes me skeptically.
“Fine.” He bites after a minute or two. “Worst-case scenario, I’ll drop out beforehand and just lose the fifty-dollar sign-up fee.”
“That’s the spirit,” Fender cheers.
Percy’s face turns red, and he groans. “Great, and now everyone knows, so if I do drop out, I’llstillbe embarrassed.”
“It’s motivating.” I slow my pace too so we can wrap up our warm-up and move on. “Come on, let’s stretch to help get rid of some of that lactic acid buildup in your muscles.”
I lead him over to the mats near the free weight area and start to show him some stretches. His shorts ride up again, showing off the lower curve of his ass cheeks when he bends forward. His peachy skin with the lightest dusting of soft blond hair that thickens and darkens as it goes down his legs is impossible to look away from.
I checked the employee handbook this morning and there was nothing in there about dating clients, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m probably not his type. He’s probably seeing a professor. A professor who’s annoyingly arrogant and not good enough for him. I hate that stupid, imaginary professor.
“Do you like camping?” I blurt.
Percy straightens up and gives me a curious look, cocking his head and pulling his eyebrows together.
“Sure. I mean, I’m not Bear Grylls or anything, but a couple of nights in a tent when the weather is nice can be fun. Why? Do you want recommendations for good camping spots? Or do you need to borrow a tent or something?”
“No, uh… the guys and I were talking about going one more time before it’s too cold. Probably in the next week or two, depending on the weather.” For a second I start to doubt myself. Is it weird for me to invite him? We barely know each other, and it’s definitely not under the umbrella of personal training. But as I talk, it sounds less and less stupid to me. With more confidence, I keep going. “I know you aren’t sold on all this weightlifting stuff, but there’s more to fitness than the gym. We could do some really light rock climbing, jog on an easy trail or two. Let me convince you that this is a lifestyle, not a chore.”
“Oh.” He shuffles his feet and looks around, avoiding my gaze. “Maybe. Let me think about it? It depends when it is and what my workload looks like. I’m supposed to be working on my thesis, and I TA a couple of classes, so some weekends I’m totally swamped with grading papers and stuff.”
“Sure.” I smile a little wider. A maybe isn’t a no, at least.
I glance over to see Fender with a shit-eating grin on his face. I shake my head and give him a stern look in return. I’m not trying to perv on Percy. He’ll have his own tent and everything. I’m his personal trainer—it’s my job to not only train him but help him develop a love of fitness, and that’s all I’m doing.
And if, along the way, he decides he wants to slum it with a muscled-up dumbass in between dating doctors and lawyers or whatever… well, I’d be down with that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
PERCY
It might be wishful thinking,but after almost two weeks of training with Butch, I think the sleeves on my polo shirt are just a little bit tighter. I glance at my office door to make sure there aren’t any students lurking, disrespecting my posted office hours. Once I’m sure I’m alone, I pull my sleeve up a little and curl my arm to flex my bicep.
Holy shit, it’s true, there’s some actual definition there and definitely a little bit of a strain on my sleeves. Obviously, they’re nothing like Butch’s muscles, which are bigger than my head, but it’s something. I’m tempted to take a picture and text it to him. Except I don’t have his phone number. Which is probably a good thing, because sending him a picture of my pathetically small bicep would be weird as hell.
Juno’s whistle startles me. I drop my arm, tugging my sleeve down a little as heat rushes to my face, and look up to see them standing in the doorway, grinning.
“Tickets to the gun show,” they hoot.
I roll my eyes but then straighten up a little in my seat. “I managed to run one pointtwomiles on the treadmill yesterday before I wanted to die. I mean, it was aslooooooowjog, but still.”
