“Is it too heavy?” Andrew’s voice came from behind me. “There’s no shame in making it lighter.”
I shook my head and pulled the handles down toward my shoulders, which waswayharder than Andrew made it look. Ifelt uncoordinated, like my hands were moving at different speeds as he counted through the repetitions. My arms actually started visibly trembling.
“Two more,” Andrew said encouragingly. “Looking fantastic, nice work.”
There it was again, thepraise. I knew how important it was from working with my own clients, but being on the receiving end was something new for me. I was embarrassed at the way I lapped it up. I finished the set and let out a long exhale, my muscles fizzy from the exertion.
“Excellent work. Really, really strong start. Couple of things I want you to try on the next set.” Andrew paused. “Can I touch you?”
The question sent a seismic rumble through me. It wasn’t the first time Andrew had asked it, but the circumstances couldn’t have been more different. I debated between making a joke and answering like a normal person who wasn’t having naked flashbacks. I couldn’t find any suitable words to respond to the question that had changed everything between us all those years ago.
Instead, I stared at him stupidly.
“Hey, no problem, it’s okay to say no,” he said quickly, clearly not catching the subtext of what he’d asked me. “Some people don’t appreciate touch during a workout, which is why I ask first. I just want you to be aware—”
“No,” I interjected quickly. “It’s... it’s okay. You can touch me.” The last two words of the sentence practically squeaked out of me.
My entire body went hot and I was convinced that I was glowing red, like an iron just pulled from a flame. I glanced at my reflection and realized that I was hunched over with myarms crossed over my chest. I looked out of place in the clean, bright room.
“Great,” he said, clearly ignoring how far from great I actually was. “Grab the handles and sit back down.” He pointed at the machine.
I did as I was told.
“Now, start the movement.”
I began pulling the handles down and suddenly his fingertips were pressed on my back where my rib cage flared, a butterfly touch that I wasn’t even sure was real.
“Thisis where you should be feeling it,” he said. “Not up here.” His fingertips migrated to my bare shoulders at the base of my neck, where my skin was a little sweaty. “Switch your focus. Be intentional with the movement.”
It was solid advice and I would’ve followed it if I could think about anything other than the way he was searing my skin. The only thing intentional in my mind as I attempted to pull the handles down was the memory of our bodies crashing into one another. How could he not remember it, or at least elements of it if the details were blurred from the alcohol? I felt my left arm start to give out.
“Don’t worry, I got you,” Andrew said, grabbing on to the handle so his palm covered my hand to keep it from slipping out of my grip. “You’re done.”
I hopped out of the seat and practically ran for my water bottle, putting distance between us in a way that I hoped wasn’t too obvious. I hated that he could still knock me off steady ground with just a touch. But it was obviously one-sided. The man who’d gone from a night of drunken fumbling with me to dating a literal swimsuit model probably wasn’t turned on bywhat he was seeing. The unanswered text was all the proof I’d needed that I was his mistake.
“Hey, don’t feel bad,” Andrew was saying when I finally managed to focus on him again. “It’s a journey. I think you might have a couple of mental blocks we need to get past and that’s the reason why you faltered on that last rep. You’re strong, and you move really well.”
More compliments. This wasn’t the Andrew I knew. He was toying with me. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, dulling my senses.
“You know what?” I bent over, my hands clutching my hips. “I’m not feeling great. I think I need to finish for today.”
“Hold on, are you okay?” I couldn’t look at him, but I felt the weight of his eyes, studying me. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“No.” I waved my hand at him as I walked in small circles like I’d just finished running a marathon. “Not at all, just a, uh, headache. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Andrew’s voice echoed behind me as I headed for the door.
“I’m okay. Thanks again.” I sliced the air over my head in a version of a wave but refused to turn around to look at him. I was convinced that if I did he’d be able to see what I’d been desperate to hide from him since the first time we met.
chapter fourteen
I couldn’t shake the queasy feeling until long after I was home, showered, and snuggled on the couch under a blanket with Birdie at my feet and Edith on my lap. The puppy was still punchy despite our long walk, so I entertained her with a mellow game of tug as I tried to make sense of the weirdness I’d just experienced.
I was tempted to reach out to Samantha, to get her read on what seemed like a new and improved Andrew. But we hadn’t talked in forever, and using him as the reason for reaching out gave the scenario more weight than it deserved. Plus, she’d always been his fan. And even worse, shelovedthe incomprehensible idea of us together. She’d said as much to me that night when she held my hair back while I puked my guts up.
I closed my eyes at the reflexive flood of embarrassment. Every time I thought about that night I cycled through a cringe and shame spiral that made me wish I could scrub it from my memory banks,Eternal Sunshine–style.
“It’s stupid, right? Forever ago,” I said to Edith, and shemoved her mouth off the tug toy and onto my hands as her answer. “I need to get over it.”
