Page 58 of Resistance Training

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“Get in the car.”

She reaches for my beanie.

“Do not touch the beanie. Get in the car, Vivian.”

“If I don’t get in the car, will you spank me?!” She turns, bends forward, resting her elbows on the passenger seat. “I think you should because I’ve been a very bad girl.”

Jesus.

“Boop!” She reaches back to flip her skirt up. She’s wearing black tights, but I can see the curve of her ass and the white ofher panties and the smooth bare skin of her upper thighs.What the fuck—those are thigh-high tights?!

That’s a thing? She went to a bar to meet other guys with nothing between her ass and this miniskirt but panties? Oh, hell no.

The only reason my sanity is still hanging by one thread is that she doesn’t look back at me over her shoulder while she’s sticking her ass up at me. It’s almost like she knows it would put me over the edge. And I bet she’s not as bold as she thinks she is either.

“Get. In. The. Car.”

“Uggghhhh. Fine!” She gets in the car.

I shut the door. By the time I get around to the driver’s seat, she’s pulling off her jacket. Now I’m going to have to see the outline of her hot body in that hot red shirt out of the corner of my eye when I’m driving. She is a driving hazard. She’s an everything hazard. “Put your seat belt on.”

“I’m going to! I had to take my jacket off first. Geez!” She makes a big show of clicking the seat belt in.

I hand her the small bottle of water that was in the cupholder. “Drink this.”

She bursts out laughing. “You brought me water?!”

“You need to start rehydrating immediately.”

“Oh, sir, yes sir, yes, captain, oh my captain!” She salutes me and then tries to open the bottle but can’t even twist the cap off. “Ow.”

“Are you kidding me?” I twist it off for her.

“My arm’s sore.”

“You didn’t stretch today, did you?” I start the engine.

“No. I worked out this morning.”

God, that pisses me off. “Rest days are not optional, Vivian. That’s why we train three days a week. More isn’t better—smarter is better. Trust the process.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

“There’s no way I didn’t tell you that.” Shit. I probably forgot to tell her that because she scrambles my brain, and that is exactly why I can’t be around her.

I open up the GPS app on my phone. I already programmed in her address, which is in my client database, before I left. I don’t talk again until I stop at the next street light. “Rest days are when the body actually builds the muscle we’re working for. When you do strength training you’re creating microscopic tears in the muscle fibers. It’s the repair process that’s going to make the muscle fibers grow back stronger. That only happens during recovery.”

She takes a sip of water. “That’s what we need to do,” she says, looking straight ahead.

“What?”

“The muscle fibers of our friendship were torn, and now we need to take a rest from all the tension between us so we can grow our relationship back stronger.” She’s speaking so thoughtfully now, she doesn’t even sound tipsy. She gulps down more water, puts the cap back on the bottle, places the bottle in the cupholder, and clasps her hands in her lap, like a good little girl.

She doesn’t say a thing for two blocks.

Maybe she got everything out of her system.

When I stop at a red light, she exhales and says, “I cannot believe you’re being such a dick about what happened eight years ago.”