Page 106 of Bewitch

I’m so screwed up in the head. I want him now that I lost him. I want him after I pushed him aside after getting him to want me.

How messed up is that?

With a sigh, I get changed into my gear but again pause to look in the mirror. My problem areas still jump out at me. My stomach is smaller some, yes, but it’s still so soft. I don’t like how it jiggles when I push it, but that’s how it is for most normal people, right? Of course, a lot of the people who work out here aren’t normal, not when it comes to their stomachs. I mean, that’s an assumption about the guys, but there are some women who work out here in crop tops over their sports bras, so they’re wearing shirts. I’ll admit that I was a bit uncomfortable seeing them walking around with their flat, tones stomach visible, but my mindset has changed the more I’ve been working out here and seeing how hard they’re working, just like me. Not that I think I’ll ever look like they do, but I definitely have changed my goals.

Including my goal with Lucas.

Shit. I need to focus and concentrate. I’m not going to start using weights or the bar if I’m not concentrating. I’ll get hurt, and yeah, on second thought, without a spotter, I’m going to forego the Olympic bar and just use hand weights.

As I’m stretching, a girl approaches. I eye her out of the corner of my eye, hoping I’m not in my way. To my surprise, she plops down beside me.

“Hi,” I start to say and then stop short.

It’s the girl with the perky boobs. She’s sitting, so I can’t tell for certain if she’s commando under her yoga pants as she had been that other day. The girl who asked me if I was lost and mentioned the bakery.

“Do you think you could maybe help me?” she asks after a moment.

I eye her. “I like to work out alone,” I murmur.

She bites her lower lip. “I used to do just a few workouts, here and there, but I think I want to try… I want to do better, and you know how to do squats and lunges right, and I don’t. I mean, I don’t think I go low enough, and I’m not sure if I bend forward too much.”

“You could film yourself,” I suggest.

“That’s a good idea, yeah, except I don’t know what exactly good form looks like.”

“You could also get a trainer.”

“I know. You’re right. You’re probably busy. I’m sorry I bothered you.” She stands.

Is she legit? Does she not recognize me? I don’t look that different.

But if she really does want help…

I clear my throat. “Did you stretch already?”

“Yes,” she says as she turns back around. “You’ll help me?”

“You mentioned squats and lunges. Guess I’ll be doing legs together. Do you think you can keep up?”

“I’ll do my best,” she says. “I used to follow a lot of girls on Instagram, but they don’t have a lot of videos of workouts to know how to get those bodies, and rust me, I know all about lighting and angles and all of that, so who knows if they look even half as good in real life without filters. I’ve tried to find videos of guys working out, and there are tons, but even the ones that show the form… I know there are trainers, but honestly, I’m a little embarrassed. I’ve been coming here for a long time now, and I still don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” I say.

“Easy enough for you to say,” she mutters. “You went about it the right way.

“Well, here. Turn to the side. Watch me and then watch yourself in the mirror, okay? You’ll want to go down until your thighs are parallel with the ground. Even lower would be better.” I smirk. “Get that ass down touching the grass. Drop it like it’s hot.”

She blinks a few times.

I squat and hold it. “Do you see my thighs?”

“Yes.”

I straighten and walk around to her side. “Go down.”

She does.

“Lower.”

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