Page 25 of Bewitch

He walks me over to a bench and sits on the edge of it. He places his hands on either side of him and then moves his legs forward and dips down, his ass and back almost touching the edge of the bench, his arms bending. Lucas goes down until his ass nearly touches the ground, his bent elbows forming a ninety-degree.

“Tricep dips,” he says. “Do as many as you can. Won’t be much.”

“Because of my weight,” I mumble.

He doesn’t say anything to disagree and moves away. I assume the position and do the move.

“Feet a little closer. Try again. Go down lower. Arms already shaking, huh? Keep your elbows in. Lower. Elbows in! You want to work the triceps, not the biceps. Biceps are naturally stronger.”

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“Use that hatred.”

“Dark side has cookies,” I mumble.

He chuckles. “The dark side is evil.”

“It’s more fun.”

“You would be a Sith?”

“A Sith lord, thank you very much.”

Lucas just shakes his head. “Keep going.”

But I can only handle two more reps. “This move sucks.”

“It does,” he agrees. “We’ll alternate between biceps and triceps. Bicep curls. Go.”

I give him a look and grab the five pound weights. He shakes his head, but I ignore him and start to do a rep. It’s not easy to start the move, and then I realize I’m swinging, so I slow down. It’s terrific going this. Just terrific.

“You aren’t ready for weights,” he argues.

“I can do it,” I say through gritted teeth.

“You aren’t curling all the way at the top, and you aren’t going all the way down either. Half reps are shit. Your form sucks. You’re going to get hurt!”

“How am I supposed to get stronger—”

“Master the form first. Then you can slowly add in weights.”

“How can I go from zero weights to five pounds? It might not be anything to you, but it clearly is a lot to me.” I stand there with the weights at my side.

“When you’re ready for weights, I’ll tell you. You can’t use them yet. Put them back.”

I hate that he’s yelling at me, but he’s probably right. I still want to argue, though, that half-reps with weights has to be better than no weights at all, but maybe he is right. But if I can do a half-rep with weight, won’t it eventually help me to build the muscle necessary to do a full rep?

But I listen. I’m paying him, and if he’s any good at what he does, I should trust him.

So I do what he says for the rest of the workout. There’s no more bantering between us. All business. He’s still a dick that day and the rest of the week, and I do whatever he asks of me, and he doesn’t let me touch weights for all of that time. I’m almost in tears at several points, and he is a bit cruel, but he does motivate me, as terrible as that is.

Or maybe that’s just how he operates. At least with me. Uses punishing words to push me.

Finally, it’s Sunday. Brooke hands me a flexible measuring tape, and I try to take my measurements myself, but I keep twisting the damn thing, so I cave and ask her for help. She also talks me into taking pictures of me in my sports bra and black PJ shorts since I don’t have any workout shorts, and she didn’t want to snap it with me in pants.

“Every Sunday, we’ll take new pics and measurements,” she says.

“Great.”

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