Page 23 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
Chapter 7
Penny
It’s exactly one week until Thanksgiving, and I’m trudging up the L train stairs at the Bedford Ave stop in Brooklyn.
Keira rattles on beside me. “Thank you for doing this. It’s going to be great, I promise.” She hoists a duffel bag full of activewear and sneakers higher on her shoulder. “Matt said he’ll have a basic workout routine planned for us. We’ll shoot some short segments, change clothes so it looks like a different day, shoot a few more, and then get the heck outta there. One hour tops! Our followers are going to eat it up.”
“Since when does a hundred-year-old department store even have followers?” I grumble and hurry alongside her.
“We didn’t! Until we posted you two doing explosive hip extensions in the middle of the sporting goods department!” Keira says. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! Our social media numbers have quadrupled this week. Equipment sales are up, too. The higher-ups are psyched!”
We pass a busy bodega, and I follow her around a corner. When Keira told me she could use a hand with a marketing idea, she was short on details. “It’s a surprise,” she said. “Trust me, it will be fun!” Lord knows she needs to have fun right now, so I immediately said yes, no questions asked.
Big mistake on my part.
Because now I have to face Matt again.
Something I’m terrified to do.
He got me so worked up during that demonstration at Herald’s that I fled the scene, my cheeks pink and my self-respect hanging by a thread. I’ve been avoiding him ever since.
I realize that’s a dramatic response to the situation, but I am absolutely allergic to fawning over a man simply for existing. I will not do it. The dance world was full of that nonsense. Dozens of women worked their butts off day in and day out in the chorus and received very little in the way of attention or financial compensation. But the guys? They worked less. They got paid more. And the crowd always went absolutely wild for them. They also generally thought they were God’s gift to women and slept with as many of them as humanly possible.
Even when they were supposedly committed to me.
But that’s a story for another day.
I’m so embarrassed about my response to him the other day. I was no better than those lusty shoppers salivating over him. While they were hyperventilating into their gift bags at the sight of Matt’s perfectly defined muscles, I was trying my best not to do the same thing. But it wasn’t his muscles that had me all up in my feelings. It was his energy. He’s so warm, fun, and friendly that he naturally draws people toward him. Even me.
“Here. Pause for a second.” Keira stops walking and shoves her phone in my direction. “You gotta see some of these.”
I read the social media comments out loud.
“Luvzmesomemuscles: Did you see the look he gave her when she thrust her chest in his face? That boy was hot for her. #santalust.”
“Theexerciseist666: He can cum down my chimney any day. Or night. #whitechristmas.”
“Shoptilyoudrop143: I failed chemistry in high school. But these two clearly have their masters in it. #theyretotallyscrewing.”
“Amazing, right?” Keira giggles.
It’s good to see her smiling. This is the first time I’ve seen her truly energized since she revealed her marital woes, which she still hasn’t told me about in detail.
So good friend that I am, I simply say, “Amazing. Yeah.”
It’s oddly comforting reading those comments. I don’t like being in any kind of spotlight these days, but maybe the social media response proves I wasn’t imagining the insane electricity I felt between Matt and me that day.
Maybe he felt it too.
Just because you have chemistry with someone doesn’t mean you should act on it, though. I’ve made that mistake before, and I’m not looking to make it again. I will do Keira this one-time favor today, then continue avoiding Matt as much as humanly possible moving forward.
We stop in front of a warehouse-type building. “This is the place!” Keira says. “Bossfit Brooklyn.”
“Wait. What street are we on?” I finally take in my surroundings. I was too caught up in my own thoughts to realize where Keira was leading me.
“North 8th between Driggs and Roebling,” she says.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
