What other names would he like?
Maybedaddy. I could get down with that. Especially if spanking was involved.
I felt so confident after our photo exchange this morning.
There was just something about Atlas that did it for me. He was so calm and self-assured as he walked me through the different machines and exercises we’d be doing. Part of it was probably because of how long he’d been doing this, but I also got the impression that it was just Atlas’s overall demeanor. He was so attentive.
And hot.
“That sound like a plan, Tegan?” Atlas’s deep growl of a voice brought me out of my thoughts as he passed me two ten-pound dumbbells.
How was I supposed to focus when his biceps kept flexing like that?For obvious reasons, he’d started my weightlifting program with arms.
“Uh, can you show me one more time?” I asked, letting the weights hang at my sides.
He picked up another dumbbell and repeated the motion. It was such a light weight that he was flying through my motions. I wasn’t learning very much, but I really enjoyed watching him.
“Maybe one more time?” I teased.
He laughed, humoring me and doing it one more time. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
I almost pinched my thumb and pointer finger together. “Just a little bit.”
He set down the dumbbell and shook his head. “You’re too much. Now, go on and give it a try.”
I kept my elbows close to my body, slowly curling my arms upward. I made sure I took my time, feeling my muscles engage instead of just speeding through the movement.
“Am I doing this right?” I asked, doing another rep. I could already feel the strain on my muscles.
“You’re doing great,” he said, “but remember to breathe.”
“It’s hard.” It came out whinier than I meant it to, but I was struggling.
Atlas laughed. “It is hard, but think about how good you’re going to feel when you can lift something you couldn’t before. Or when you flex your arm and see some definition.”
“I want to be able to lift heavy things.”
“And I’m gonna make sure you get to that point.Safely. The key to that is having good form.”
I did another rep, remembering to exhale as I brought the weights up to my shoulders.
“That’s it. Great job,” he praised.
His enthusiasm and positivity were contagious. It made me want to try my hardest, to give this my all. He made me feel like I could. I bet people loved working with him as their trainer.
“So”—I sucked in a breath, curled my arms, and slowly exhaled while lowering the weights—“how long have you worked as a personal trainer?”
His eyes traveled up from my arms to my face, so he could look at me while we talked. “Since I was in college. I worked in a gym part-time while I was finishing my kinesiology degree. I had a scholarship but I needed some spending money. How many was that?”
For a second I was tempted to lie and say I’d done four—but what if this was some sort of test? “Three.”
“Good girl. Give me three more.”
My brain short-circuited. He couldn’t just hit me with agood girllike that.
I was supposed to be focusing.
I took a deep breath to regain my focus and did another curl, really feeling the burn in my biceps this time. “And what made you decide to open a gym?”
