Page 16 of Giovanni
“Fuck you, Gio. What do you know? Now go.”
“I’m only a personal trainer with a degree in nutrition and health,” I mumble over the racket of the machine gun he’s using, knowing he can’t hear me.
As I jog downstairs, I think about Kacie and the possibility of exploring something real with her. Maybe it’s time to take a chance. Starting tomorrow at our next session.
????
I could hardly sleep last night, Kacie occupying my thoughts after leaving Seb’s place and growing weary of his constant ribbing about already falling in love with her. That’s not the case, even though love is something that I give freely compared to his stingy ass.
It’s understandable, coming from a big, rambunctious family such as mine, whereas he’s been alone for a few years and is still adjusting. Regardless, I left motivated and determined to see if there was something between us or if I was making it up in my head.
Without much to do this morning, I head to the gym early to get my workout in before my clients come in. Marco can’ttrain today. He’s helping his mamma move furniture. The gym regulars are sparse this morning.
Wednesdays are usually the quietest day of the week, which I normally like, except today, it makes the clock crawl toward my dedicated time with Kacie. I should get her number, not from the computer system, but from her, text her, and possibly pressure her to come in earlier.
I immediately dismiss that thought, knowing it’s taking her away from her important job for my selfish reasons. She mentioned ordering a salad instead of her usual fast food the other day. Maybe I can coax her into coming over to learn about nutrition and meal prep together. She admitted not knowing how to cook when we did sit-ups on Saturday. Possibly kill two birds with one stone.
The day blurs once my clients arrive, with a couple of meal breaks in between. I shower before she comes, wanting to smell fresh with how close I’ll get to her this workout. It’s also another way to test if there’s something between us and not look foolish like I did, crushing on Jenna. I’m already waiting by the door when I see her crossing the parking lot with a slight limp on her right foot and battling against the wind, pushing her dark curls into her face.
“Hey there,” I greet as she approaches. She appears momentarily surprised. “Is your foot alright, Kacie?”
“Oh, hi.”
She hesitates, a flicker of pain crossing her expression.
“Um, just missed a step at work. It’s nothing,” she assures, maintaining a tough front. I open the gym door wider, not convinced.
“You sure? We can ice it. Better to check it now than let it ruin your workout.”
She nods, reluctantly agreeing as the wind whips another curl into her face.
“Alright, Giovanni, maybe just a quick ice then.”
She limps to the nearest bench in the gym’s entryway, close to the smoothie bar where we have crushed ice for drinks and freezer bags filled with ice for injuries on the floor. As she settles, I catch the scent of her shampoo, something fruity and great smelling.
The moment feels strangely intimate, contrasting with the metallic clangs and thuds from the gym floor. While I fetch the ice, the idea of meal prepping together resurfaces. The gym could be our starting point, not just for workouts but for building healthier habits for her and to see where it goes with us.
Returning with the ice, I hand it over, our fingers brushing momentarily. Hers are cold, whereas mine are warm. It makes me curious if she’s a cuddler or not. I shake my head at those thoughts, not wanting to get ahead of myself, and end up having two crushes for unavailable women.
“Here you go. Just keep this on for a bit,” I instruct, trying to keep my tone professional.
“Thanks.” She presses the ice against her ankle. “I appreciate it.”
I sit beside her, maintaining a respectful distance while observing her tentative smile.
“No problem at all. It’s what I’m here for.” I pause and then decide to shoot my shot. “You know, speaking of taking care, you mentioned wanting to eat healthier, right? Maybe we could try some meal prep. I could show you some simple recipes to help you get started.”
Those light green eyes bore into me for several long seconds, and I begin to doubt my offering is a good idea.
“I’d like that.” There’s a warmth in her light voice that wasn’t there before. “I’m clueless in the kitchen. Any help would be nice.”
“Great,” I say, more enthusiastically than I intended. “It’s a date then. I mean—not a date, but a plan. A cooking plan.”
She laughs, and the sound eases my nervousness.
“A cooking plan sounds perfect. But I must confess, I don’t have the stuff to do meal prep.” Her eyes look around the gym as if she’s spilling state secrets and then return to mine with a crooked little smile. “Am I even allowed to say something like that in a place like this?”
It’s adorable watching another side of her personality come out. Her confession brings a genuine smile to my face.
