Page 49 of Fake As Puck
“Yeah,” he says, but something flickers across his face. “Convenient.”
But it doesn’t feel convenient. It feels like something else entirely.
“Should we work out?” I ask, desperate to change the subject. “I could use some endorphins to chase away this hangover.”
“You want to work out? With a hangover?”
“Sweat it out. Isn’t that what athletes do?”
“Athletes try not to get hangovers in the first place.”
“Too late for that advice.”
“Okay. Come on.”
His home gym is downstairs, so I follow him to it. It’s filled with high-end equipment, the mirrored wall where we took a selfie, and enough weights to train a hockey team.
“What do you normally do?” he asks.
“Yoga. Some cardio. I think the weights will kill me.”
He’s already grabbing a pair of dumbbells as he looks at me and smiles. “We’ll start easy.”
Easy, apparently, means me struggling through fifteen minutes on the elliptical while West effortlessly bench presses what looks like my body weight.
“You’re showing off,” I pant, trying not to feel completely inadequate.
“I’m warming up.”
“That’s your warm-up?”
“Yeah.”
I make a face, shocked, and he laughs. He moves to the pull-up bar, and I try not to stare at the way his shoulders move under his t-shirt.
This is dangerous territory. Watching him in his element, all focused and strong, is doing things to my brain that have nothing to do with being his fake girlfriend.
“Your turn,” he says, gesturing to the weights.
“I’m not lifting those death traps.”
“These are five-pound weights.”
“Exactly. Death traps.”
“Come on. I’ll spot you.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means I’ll make sure you don’t drop them on your face.”
My eyes flick to his and he lifts his brows, gesturing to them. I guess I’m doing this.
He guides me through a basic routine, standing close enough that I can smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off his skin. His hands hover near mine as I lift the weights, ready to catch them if I falter.
“Good,” he says. “You’re stronger than you think.”
I’m struggling as I say, “I’m really not.”
