Page 15 of Bewitch

“I want to start with weights in my hands.”

“No.”

“Next week?”

“Are you even going to come in next week?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’ll tell you this much. It won’t be because I want to see you.”

He snorts. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“It’s the truth. I’m not doing this for you.”

“Well, that’s good.”

I grit my teeth and keep on going. My arms are sore already, which I hate. Why does it hurt so much? I’m not using weights so this is just making me feel like I’m a weakling. Granted, I am weak, and that’s just one more reason why I’m here.

“You’re done already? Not really. Let me lift up… No. We’ll stick with you being flat. Lie there. Time for dumbbell flies, minus the dumbbells. Chest flies. Hold your fists up touching each other. Now, move your arms out to the sides. A little lower. Now hold for a few seconds and then slowly—I said slowly! Slowly bring it back to the start. Exhale on the hard part.”

I don’t like this move very much, but I keep doing it, and then he has me basically combine the move, lifting my fists together from my center to the top and then out for the fly part and back up to the top with the fists touching and then bringing them down, stilling touching, to touch my chest. It’s a combo move, and the thought of one day doing them with weights makes me want to cry.

“All chest moves so far,” I note.

“Almost every move is more than one muscle group. You can’t really do any in complete isolation from the others. Now for legs. Squats. Toes face forward. Feet apart. A little more. Wider than your hips. Wait, don’t go yet! Tighten your abs. Honestly, do this with every move. Every step. Every second of the day. Now lower down as if you’re going to sit your fat ass in a chair.”

I glare at him. “Some guys like a little junk in the trunk.”

“Keyword is little.”

“You really don’t know how to quit, do you?”

“And you don’t know how to get your ass down low. Ass to grass.”

I furrow my brow.

“Get your ass down as long as you can.”

My next rep, I go down a little deeper. I probably could go down even farther, but I don’t want to risk the point of no return and falling flat on my ass.

“Keep going, keep going,” he says, watching a girl walk on by. I swear he probably wants to slap her ass.

I grunt and keep going. Wouldn’t it be something when one day I look like her?

But only if I get help with my diet.

Or maybe I should just focus on the gym first, making that a routine, learning the proper forms, adding weight, all that jazz? I know I need both nutrition and weightlifting, but if I’m not even using weights yet…

“Hey, Kelly, how’s that cut coming?” Lucas asks.

I halt what I’m doing, staying down low, listening.

Kelly’s that girl who looks like a model already. She barely looks at Lucas. “Fuck off.”

He laughs as she walks away.

Slowly, I straight and grunt. My leg muscles are getting so sore.

He glares at me. “You like it when I’m rejected, huh? Here’s your punishment. Come over here to the wall. Back against it. Good. Now slide down. Lower. Lower. Lower. Just a bit—Good.”

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