Page 18 of Falling for Leanne

“Would it have hurt less if it was a better story?” she teased, and I shrugged. Then I opened the unmirrored studio.

“Maybe. If you look, the lights are on a remote dimmer. The instructor can adjust color or brightness to make it more comforting. There’s a separate sound system from the one out on the floor so they can play whatever music or sounds that are preferred. When I sat in, with the okay from the students in the classes, it was pretty clear that a dimmer room, and different sounds from the pumped-up workout tracks out front were better for them.”

“This is simply amazing,” she said, turning around and taking in the whole room.

Her admiration was almost more than I could bear. I found myself wanting to impress her way more than I should care too. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to get both of us in a whole lot of trouble. I needed to make a getaway before I made things weird.

Glancing at my watch, I realized how much time had passed. I walked her through the rest of the facility as briskly as I could.

CHAPTER11

LEANNE

It wasn’t easy to hide the fact I was super impressed with A+ Fitness and with Aaron, too. I’d read up on the facility and thought a lot of the programs and strategies. But I hadn’t counted on feeling instantly comfortable there, feeling like I was at home immediately. Everything made sense, the set-up, the options, the way the space was used.

Not to mention the fact that every time Aaron moved, whether it was to pat someone on the back as he greeted them or to show them something on a machine, his biceps bulged and gave me tingles in a region that was supposed to be offline at times like these. The way my body responded to his voice, the smell of his body wash, the accidental brush against his arm when he reached for an iPad at one point. My nipples pebbled, and blood rushed to my pussy which began to tingle and plump from that slight brush of his skin against mine. I bit my lip and told my inner voice to shut up. Apparently, my inner Leanne was kind of a slut. Instead of a conscience, I had an urgent whisper telling me that I wanted him in a way I couldn’t let myself think about.

I concentrated as he explained my role as intern. I wasn’t going to volunteer free labor for the data entry and phone calls and stuff, which was what I had expected. I’d be shadowing him. Helping out in a variety of tasks from doing equipment demos to training, nutrition, customer service, even scheduling. I was blown away that he was going to give me such a full experience. I was ecstatic.

“I know you don’t want me complimenting you,” I said, “but that is more than I ever hoped for from this internship. I thought I might get to observe some personal trainers and maybe sit in on classes. Clerical work and maybe a chance to learn by watching professionals.”

“That’s not an internship. That’s helping out at the family store,” he scoffed, “that doesn’t teach you anything except that people like to exploit free labor. You’re going to get a front row seat to the demands and concerns of being a trainer and running an inclusive facility.”

I was kind of into how humble he was for a thoughtful and considerate fitness practitioner who was wildly successful and supported charities and taught undergrads. He was crush-worthy, a hundred percent, even if he hadn’t looked like he walked off an underwear ad in Times Square. I’d known and dated guys without even half his achievements who thought they were the shit. Men who didn’t listen to me, who didn’t know about my eating disorder because I didn’t feel I could trust them...lesser men. Boys, really. Too bad my eyes were opened to all the fine qualities of a grown sexy man, and he turned out to be the last person in the world I could ever date.

“I’m excited to learn all about the different jobs and responsibilities that go into maintaining a facility this large.”

“I feel that it’s important that you get to see the whole thing. Then you can decide for yourself what you want to do after graduation. Too many people go into the field without understanding all it entails.”

Aaron showed me into his office, left the door open and I had a seat. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

“So you’ve said,” he smiled. “You’ve mentioned a little about your past, but would you mind telling me exactly what it was that brought you to exercise physiology?”

I nodded, then took a deep breath and went on. I detailed the ins and outs of my eating disorder and treatment and how exercise fit into my healing. Through it all, Aaron leaned forward, elbows on his desk, totally engaged and listening intently.

When I stopped talking, he met my eyes with a serious, level gaze. I felt seen, all the way, like he understood my story, the things I said and the things I left out, the fear and the sneaky ways I got out of eating, the seemingly insane lengths I went to. I didn’t feel judged or pitied. Pity is the worst. Aaron looked at me, if anything, with respect. Even more so than before.

“That's a powerful story, and you’ve got a big future ahead of you. There isn’t enough emphasis on responsible exercise for recovering disordered eating clients. It’s an underserved population in fitness. But you’ve got your finger on the pulse of it, and it’s going to lead to big things for you. I’m glad to have you on board at A+. Sorry I kept you so long on your tour,” he said.

I was beaming at him, so relieved to have told him everything and pleased with his response, how he saw it as a force for positive change and proof I had a bright future ahead. I was grinning my face off when I thanked him again and left. All the way outside when the hot sun hit me, I just kept thinking of the way he had taken me seriously and had still joked around with me, how we were so comfortable together, how we fit together. It was incredible and also really inconvenient. Because wanting someone I vibed with wasn’t the same as that person being my boss and teacher. That was a big problem.

The feeling of closeness and intimacy that came from disclosing my past in detail to him was a hazard. It was one of the reasons that therapists had to be cautious about patients thinking they were in love with their doctors—that level of deep trust could easily be confused with more. I would be careful about that, about not letting myself believe that he and I would ever be anything just because I told him secrets, ones that were relevant to my employment as his intern. This was the responsible thing to do—tell him the full story and appreciate his confidence in me and not confuse it with anything like a personal relationship. Even friendship would be impossible given our circumstances.

As long as I kept reminding myself of that, everything would turn out fine.

CHAPTER12

AARON

Two weeks in, and I couldn’t imagine the gym without her. Leanne didn’t just follow the rules and fit in with the staff, she gave herself so fully to the mission of the gym, to the fitness students and the training clients and everyone who worked there, that she was part of A+ Fitness from day one. Her curiosity, her opinions—sometimes stubborn but usually with the right intentions—her energy and warmth and laughter. She took my favorite place in the world, the place where I felt most like my true self, most at home, and she made herself a part of it. An irreplaceable part.

Willing to pitch in and already licensed to teach Zumba, Leanne was substitute teaching classes during her second week. The people in the classes loved her, and one older woman sought me out to tell me just how ‘bouncy the new girl is’ and how it made everybody get more excited about dancing around.

Since I knew Phyllis would tell it like it was, I understood this as a good thing. I even toyed with the idea of letting Leanne set up a class of her own to teach and see how she liked designing and implementing a program on her own with Zumba. Still, a protective part of me thought she had enough on her plate with her class schedule and the internship without extra work being piled on her, even if it was an opportunity to do her own choreography—probably to a soundtrack of Harry Styles, I thought with a rueful grin.

On the two mornings a week when she had early classes, the place felt too quiet, like everyone and everything was waiting for her to arrive. It wasn't complete without her. That was by far the most alarming and foolish thing I'd thought in a long time—that a business I had conceptualized and built from the ground up was in any way dependent on the presence of a part-time college intern was absurd.

It was an absurd but very real feeling I had, and I tried to push it down. This woman wants nothing to do with me. She just interned in my gym, followed me around and helped out. Like an assistant. Who wore running shorts and a t-shirt, perfectly loose and appropriate, and drove me insane.

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