“Well, it worked. But I’m still going to show him how much you love touching me.”
“Can I just say I don’t particularly love the idea of holding your ankles while I do a squat and you do a push up. It seems, like, weird.”
“It’ll be great.” He says as he rolls over to his stomach. I enjoy the view of his ass and admire all the things his navy athletic shorts are doing for it.
“Fine.” I reach down in a deadlift position and grab his ankles. “I’ll count out.”
“Let’s start at the top.” Miguel says and he pushes up into a plank position and I make sure my arms rest at my sides where they’re supposed to.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Down,” Miguel says and I inhale.
“Two, three.” I say and then I exhale. “Lift, two three.”
“Great Laney, again. Let’s shoot for twenty five.”
And so we repeat the ridiculous squat/push up/plank move another two dozen times.
I tried, and failed, not to smile as Miguel turned his head to glare at Mr. Death Wish after twelve reps.
Being claimed feels decadent.
Miguel’s territorial-pushing-medieval display makes me feel high and I find myself pushing harder to win even more of his affection.
I want him to see me as strong, and capable.
And to see I am choosing him, too.
“My legs feel wobbly.” I admit as I lean against the wall of the elevator.
“Almost there.” He says quietly.
After the squats/push ups/planks we moved to a mat and did some stretching and then Miguel invited me upstairs for lunch.
The food he’s been making me isn’t just delicious, it has taken a whole worry off my list. I haven’t known what and how much to eat for triathlon training. My last dietary coaching happened in college when I was doing long distance running only.
So, I’ve tried, maybe not my best since my diet was significantly made up of Nature Valley bars and bananas, but I’ve tried nonetheless.
And now, with Miguel’s prepped meals, I have breakfast, lunch, and snacks figured out every day.
He opens the door to his condo and guides me to the sofa. Once I’m seated he walks to the fridge and takes out a mason jar filled with a purple smoothie.
“Kale, mixed berries, banana, coconut water, and protein powder.” He says as he hands it to me.
“Sounds healthy, thank you.” I take a sip. “Oh, it is delicious.”
“Thanks.” He takes a drink of his and then turns back to the fridge. “Do you like chicken salad?”
“I do.”
“Great, two sandwiches coming right up.”
“I can help.” I say, but it’s weak. And Miguel knows it.
“Nah, you sit there Princess. I’ll do all the work.”
I bite my lip as I smile.
