Page 10 of Every Inch of You
He didn’t initiate asking me any personal questions, and I wouldn’t have been able to answer them anyway, because I could barelybreathe.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” he said. “Your muscles needoxygen.”
He kept his eyes fixed on my body and what I was doing with it most of the time—which, I do realize, was hisjob.
But at one point, I looked over at him, caught him looking at my mouth with those beautiful green eyes. I stared at his lips and thought about how I used to kiss those lips, and lost my balance when I was in a lungeposition.
He caught me and held me to him. “Youokay?”
I had momentarily forgotten how to stand, how to breathe, how to not think about kissing him. “Nope. I mean, yes. I’m good.” I got my shit together and straightenedup.
Then it was time for the HIIT. Two minutes in I wanted to kill him. Five minutes in I wanted to kill both of us. After enduring twenty minutes of cycling through push-ups, lunges, planks, jumping jacks, burpees, mountain climbers, high knee jumping and squats with short periods of rest in between—I felt like Wonder Woman. I felt soalive.
He high-fived me, told me I did great, gave me a fresh bottle of water and watched me guzzle itdown.
Then he looked at the wall clock and said it was time for me to cool down and stretch. He told me I did well today and that he looked forward to seeing how I’d perform with free weightstomorrow.
“You live in Alberta ArtsDistrict?”
“Yeah. Where do youlive?”
He ignored my question completely. “A lot of great restaurants aroundthere.”
“Tell me aboutit.”
“A lot of great icecream.”
“Don’t remindme.”
“Here’s my card.”He slid a business card out from one of the pockets of his sweat pants and handed it to me. “My personal cell phone is on there, please don’t share it with anyone. I want you to use it to keep in touch with me about your eating habits. You’re going to need to change that too, in order to reach your goal, and I’ll help you with that. Take a picture of your meals before you eat them—snacks included—so you’re accountable to me any time you put something in yourmouth.”
I bit my lower lip and tried not to look down at hiscrotch.
He smirked and held my gaze, and it seemed like forever before he said: “You’re allowed one cheat day a week, which should be planned beforehand so it becomes part of your workoutgoal.”
“Okay.Really?”
“Just don’t overdoit.”
“Okay.”
“Any questions for me? About what we’ll be doingtogether?”
Literallythousands.
He waited for me to say something, but my brain had frozen, then suddenly I realized something. “Shit what time is it? I have to go home and change the cat litter or Justin Timberlake will pee on mybed.”
He looked at me like I wasinsane.
“Oh my God, I probably sound like a crazy person,” I laughed. “Justin Timberlake is mycat.”
And then I realized that I had just said three sentences that pretty much guaranteed this Brad would never want to kiss meagain.
