Page 47 of Bewitch

“Next week, we’ll switch over to a new schedule. Same time but Mondays will be chest, legs Tuesday, back Wednesday, arms Thursday, shoulders Friday.”

“What’s on Saturday?” I ask.

“What do you think?”

“Abs and Pilates?” I ask hopefully.

He shakes his head. “Your last move of every day will be abs. Saturdays will be total body.”

“Ugh. I hate you.”

“Yeah, don’t care. Stretch deeper.”

I mumble obscenities under my breath and then lumber to my feet. “What now?”

“How about pushups?”

“Pushups? I’ve never been able to do one in my life before.”

“There are modifications.” He drops down and demonstrates.

Skeptical, I go down and try to replicate what he’s doing. My stomach still doesn’t feel good, but I manage to go down and up.

“Stretch out more so you really feel it when you go down,” he instructs.

“Sure,” I mumble, and finally, I get in a few reps that he accepts.

“Good. Now try a few real ones.”

“What?”

“Just to see if you can.”

I grumble and gripe but give it a whirl.

My arms shake as I go down, down, down, and then I can’t go back up. In fact, I fall down flat on the mat, my chin slamming against it hard enough to jar my teeth.

“Good effort.”

Is that a compliment? I roll my head over to the side to eye him. Nope. It was an insult. He’s smirking.

“One more try,” he coaxes.

“So I can fall on my face again and you laugh some more at my expense? No thanks.”

“Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?”

“I don’t eat cereal.”

“Don’t really care.”

I narrow my eyes. “Who pissed inyourcornflakes?”

“Your mom.”

“So mature.”

“Says the chick who asked about my cereal being pissed in.”

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