Flirting with the Personal Trainer: A love at the Gym Novel Page 2

  That’s fine with me. Linda is a better mom anyway.

  My office smells like cinnamon, thanks to my boss who likes to spray cinnamon air freshener all over the place. I put on my polite work smile and greet everyone as I walk right past them to the bathroom.

  Then I burst into tears.

  Why, oh why did I eat that stupid pastry? Why did I do this to myself? I should have picked the banana. Or I should have been a much better person, an adult who has her life together, and I should have gone to the grocery store this past weekend and stocked up on healthy snacks and lunches. I could have started a diet this week, and I could be down a few pounds by Friday. Instead I took the easy way out and ate my feelings in thirty seconds flat.

  I am so exhausted. So tired of being the lame fat girl who puts on a fake smile everywhere and acts like everything is okay. Everything is most definitely not okay. It’s been eight months since my boyfriend dumped me with that awful text. I might have deleted the text, but I still remember it word for word.

  I got too fat and he left me. I wasn’t good enough. Not pretty enough. Not thin enough. Just not good enough.

  And I’ve only gained more weight since then.

  I’ll never be happy if I don’t get my life together. But I don’t even know where or how to start. If I order the banana tomorrow, will that fix everything? I really doubt it. I reach over and grab a paper towel, then dab at my eyes. In the movies, people always splash water on their face when they’re having a breakdown, but that won’t work right now. It’ll ruin my makeup, and the water won’t do anything to help. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, the sad woman with a boring job and red, tear-soaked eyes. I’m only twenty-three.

  I shouldn’t be this pathetic. I have got to find a way to get my life back together.

  3

  Brent

  It’s just after six when my favorite client walks into the gym. I should have been off work an hour ago, but like I said—favorite client. I’d do just about anything for her. She waves at me as she approaches. “Thank you for scheduling this late appointment for me, hon.”

  I smile back. “It’s no problem at all.”

  My favorite client is eighty-two years old. Gretta walked into the gym on our opening day and told me she’d like to get in better shape. She also said she’d never been to a gym in her life, but she was ready to learn what all these machines did and how to use them. I took her on as a client and now she comes in twice a week, always happy to workout. She doesn’t complain. She doesn’t whine when the reps get hard. She doesn’t give up. Most of my much younger clients can’t say that.

  I start our training session off with a warmup, which I do alongside her just to stretch my muscles. I’ve been tenser than usual lately, and I’m not sure why. On the whole, my life is fine, but the stress just never seems to go away. Sometimes I can find an escape from it when I’m on my dirt bike, but the gym takes up so much of my time lately, that I’m at the dirt bike track less and less.

  The gym is busy at this time every day since most people get off work around five and then stop by, so Gretta and I train in a separate section of the gym which is marked off specifically for trainers and clients. It’s quiet back here, and Gretta always entertains me with tales of her life. She lives in an apartment complex specifically for retired seniors, and boy does she have some drama to gush about. Everything from gossip about other residents to gossip about the employees—she knows it all.

  Gretta is unlike any grandmother I know. She’s spunky. I hope I’m as happy and fun as she is when I’m older. Every time she comes into the gym, Noah says we should make some kind of seniors workout day to encourage more older people to join the gym. It’s a great idea, but that’s just one more item to add to the list of things we need to do around here, so we haven’t even begun to think about implementing it yet.

  I’m spotting Gretta on the incline press when she stops, racks the bar and then looks up at me, her brows furrowed in the middle.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” she says, still eyeing me. “What’s going on with you, son?”

  “Huh? I’m fine.”

  She shakes her head. “You seem upset about something.”

  My stomach tightens. How does she know these things? We were literally just working out while she talked about her neighbors. Now she’s all calling me out on my problems? This woman is a mind reader.

  “Well, I guess I’m stressed out,” I say because I know she won’t let it go until I start talking. “Opening a business is extremely hectic.”

  While that’s true, it’s not exactly what’s bothering me tonight. I’ve been bothered for a while, actually. And it’s all because I’m sick of being this pathetic single guy with fangirls online but no true girlfriend in real life.

  “You make sure you’re taking care of yourself,” she says, giving me that serious look she so rarely has. The woman is a firecracker who is usually in a carefree mood. “You can’t help others if you’re not okay.”

  “Thanks, that’s good advice,” I say, offering her a smile. Part of me really wants to talk about this, everything that’s bothering me and stressing me out. Just let it all out to someone who cares. But Gretta is not that person. Sure, she treats me like her grandson, but she’s not related to me. She’s a client, and I have to be professional.

  We finish up her training session and then I hit the treadmill after she leaves. I’ve already worked out today, but I have a lot of negative energy to get out. Running helps clear my mind. I put on my earbuds and blast some music and run until my muscles are screaming. It doesn’t fix everything, but it helps.

  It’s Kris’ turn to close the gym tonight, so I tell him bye as I head out, my gym bag slung over my shoulder. I step onto the sidewalk that connects our gym with all the other stores in this shopping center, and the spring air is crisp as it fills my lungs. The sun is bending beyond the horizon, even though it’s only six in the evening, casting an orange glow over the parking lot.

  I feel a little better as I stand out here in the nice weather, all the endorphins from my run circulating through my veins. I have to keep reminding myself that I’ll find someone eventually. I can’t just give up on love after never really trying to have it. That’s stupid.

  The jingle of a bell catches my attention, and I look over, seeing a woman leave the bookkeeping office. The door has some kind of chime on it when it opens, and I only have about two seconds to think that’s a weird feature for a bookkeeping shop to have, before my attention is diverted to the woman.

  She’s about my age, with shoulder-length brown hair that’s a little curly. The setting sun glints off her hair, making it look silky and soft as she walks quickly out to the parking lot, her black heels smacking on the pavement. She’s wearing tight black slacks that hug her curves perfectly, and I realize I’m staring. But I can’t help myself—this girl is gorgeous. Luckily, she’s walking away from me and doesn’t see me standing here, gawking like some kind of creeper.

  In the back of my mind, my brain is telling me to make some excuse to talk to her. To ask if she dropped something, or maybe ask if she can give me directions to somewhere. But I don’t do anything. I just head to my truck and let this mysterious gorgeous woman walk away, never knowing about my instant crush on her.

  It’s probably for the best. I haven’t dated in so long, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Knowing me, I’d probably stumble on my words, look like a dork, and that gorgeous woman would laugh in my face and go back home to her boyfriend who is a million times more clever and handsome than I am.

  At home, I shower, and then drop onto my couch, planning to watch TV for the rest of the night to unwind. My one-bedroom apartment is small, but clean since I keep it tidy and I hate clutter. I love living on my own, but it’s boring. Which is an ironic thing to think about, because back when I lived at my mom’s house, I always wanted more privacy. No more listening to my sister talking on the phone from the
next room over or being forced her hear. her crappy music that she’d play all night long. No more dealing with my mom, who always seems to pry into my social life under the disguise of just being friendly. I love my family, but I wanted to be on my own.

  And yet, now I am on my own, living in a brand new apartment complex across town, and it’s so boring it almost makes me miss the chaos of being in college or living at home. I watch TV for a few minutes and then decide to call my sister.

  “Hello?” she says on the first ring. Figures—the girl always has her phone on her.

  “Bella, my favorite sister,” I say.

  “I’m your only sister.”

  “That also means you’re my least favorite.”

  She snorts. “What’s up?”

  “I’m bored.”

  “Sounds like a personal problem, Brent.”

  I roll my eyes. “What are you doing? Want to hang out?”

  “I’m making cookies right now, and will probably order pizza later when Liam gets here. You want to come over?”

  “Perfect,” I say.

  There was a time when I hated my little sister’s boyfriend, Liam. Not because he was dating my sister, (although in my mind, no guy is good enough for her and no guy ever will be) but because of our own past. I grew up racing dirt bikes and so did he. We were competitors on the track, and then one day, in real life, I caught him making out with my girlfriend. Then we became enemies.

  Samantha was my first serious girlfriend, and I had thought I was in love. Seeing her cheat on me was devastating. Not only did I suddenly hate the girl I had been in love with, now I also hated Liam Mosely.

  So when he started dating my sister, it was a nightmare having to see him around her. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t think he was good enough for Bella. But the worst part was remembering how Samantha had cheated on me every single time I saw him. I couldn’t look at him without thinking of her, and I had tried so very hard to put her out of my mind after our breakup.

  I didn’t realize it would be so hard to overcome the anger and resentment and heartache I felt each time I saw that guy. And to have him dating my sister was just the icing on top of the horrible cake.

  But it’s been a few months, and we’re good now. I believe him when he said he didn’t know Samantha was dating me when he kissed her. He didn’t purposely let my girlfriend cheat on me. So now with that nightmare all cleared up, I’ve been able to finally heal from the heartbreak of a century and realize that Samantha was never my dream girl in the first place. I was just an idiot who thought she was.

  And now that I’ve fully moved on, I’m just ready to find my actual dream girl. Once again, that girl in the parking lot at work flashes through my mind. I don’t even know her. She could be dating someone, or married with ten kids for all I know. But I hope I see her again. On the very slight chance that she’s single, I want to know about it.

  4

  Dani

  My stomach grumbles so loudly that I’m pretty sure people can hear it on the other side of town. I clear my throat and cough a bit, hoping to drown out the noise, and I’m grateful no one is in the front office right now. Having my stomach scream so loudly in front of clients would be embarrassing.

  This is what I get for skipping breakfast this morning. But it was better than getting a stupid pastry and hating myself. Now I just feel hungry. And I still hate myself.

  This isn’t even a good idea, and I know that. I should really figure out a better way to try to get healthy and lose some weight. Some middle-ground between pastries and starvation.

  Maybe I need a job that doesn’t involve sitting behind a desk all day greeting clients and ordering coffee and watering that one plant my boss insists on trying to keep alive enough though there isn’t much sunlight in this office. I graduated college with a degree in chemistry, and yet I don’t even use my degree. Shortly after graduation, I found this job, and it’s here in Roca Springs where I live with my step-mom, and I don’t ever plan on leaving any time soon.

  Sure, I might move out one day, and live on my own like a real grownup, but for as long as Linda is here in Roca Springs, I will be, too. She’s my rock. And she needs me. She suffers from an auto-immune disease called lupus and she has really brutal flare-ups that make her bedbound for days at a time. When she’s not suffering a flare-up, she’s the greatest elementary teacher there is. I was always so jealous when my friends would get her class each year, and I didn’t, but the school had policies where parents can’t teach their own children.

  So even though all the good chemistry-centered jobs are located in a big city far away, I’ve decided I have no plans of leaving Roca Springs any time soon. I like it here. I just need a better job. Maybe something that involves being a bike messenger, I think as I snort to myself. I don’t even remember the last time I rode a bicycle.

  I check the time, and it’s only eleven-fifteen, which means my day isn’t even halfway over yet. I breathe a sigh and check the work email. I have several new client requests to forward on to the right accountant, and a few schools asking for corporate sponsors for their sports teams.

  I get to work, trying not to think about how I still have to wait until noon to finally eat my lunch, and how the healthy salad I brought is not going to be very fun to eat.

  Just another day at my boring day job, I suppose.

  The door chime goes off and I startle. I’m still not used to the loud, tinny sound. We used to have a softer bell, like a faint ding that sounded musical. It finally broke after years of faithful dinging and my boss bought this one to replace it. This one sucks.

  The only reason we even have the bell is because sometimes I get tasked with running errands outside the office and then no one will be sitting up front when clients come in. The way this bookkeeping office is set up is that there’s a waiting room and the front desk – my desk – is up here at the front of the shop, and then down the hallway, past the coffee bar, are three offices where my three bosses work.

  I put on my polite smile and look up to greet whoever just walked in.

  “Hello,” I say, feeling my stomach rumble again. A tall guy with dirty blonde hair walks in. I don’t recognize him as a client. “How may I help you today?”

  “I have an appointment with Mrs. Kline,” he says, stepping up to the front counter. He drums his fingers on the countertop. “My name is Noah, but the appointment is under Roca Springs Fitness, I think.”

  “Ah, yes,” I say, smiling at him. I notice his shirt also has the gym logo on it. They’re a new place that opened up just down the way. I can’t remember what business was there before the gym moved in, but it had been shut down for a while. I’m glad it’s open now, instead of being an ugly eyesore right in the middle of town.

  “This is your first time here, so I’ll give you the grand tour,” I say with a laugh. I stand up and walk him to the hall, holding out my hand in a sweeping gesture. “There is one hallway, and that’s all you need to know. Mrs. Kline’s office is straight ahead.”

  “Perfect,” he says, flashing me a bright white grin. “Thank you.”

  For a guy that works at a gym, he isn’t too ripped and overly muscular. At least not in a Hulk style, or some creepy bodybuilder way. He’s tall and lean, with muscular definition for sure, but not in a bad way. He’s actually pretty cute. Not my type, but cute.

  I leave him to his appointment and then go back to my desk and get back to work. This isn’t a bad job and it pays pretty well, but it is slightly boring. When I’m stuck here behind this desk all day, all I think about is my desire to eat. And then I get sad because I’m overweight, and then I go eat some junk food to feel better. It’s a vicious cycle. I really wish there was something more entertaining to do here at work. Maybe I can convince my bosses to let us get a work puppy since they didn’t like the work kitten idea. I snort at the idea. Maybe I should get a puppy myself. I could run around after him and take him on walks and get outside. It could be a good form of exercise.
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  When lunch time is finally here, I grab my salad from the word fridge and take it back to my desk, happy to finally be eating. Tomorrow I will not skip breakfast. It’s just not worth the misery of sitting here hungry.

  I hear Mrs. Kline open her office door and exchange all the usual pleasantries she does with clients when they’re finished with a meeting. The gym guy—I think his name was Noah—thanks her as they walk toward the front.

  “Oh, I almost forgot you,” Noah says to me.

  Me? What could he possibly want with me? He holds out a paper in the shape of a postcard. “I’m giving everyone here a year’s free membership at my gym, which is a couple doors down. Just as a thank you.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Thanks.”

  I take the card, my cheeks flushing as I realize I’m the chubby girl eating a salad and accepting a free gym membership. Ugh. This guy is probably thinking to himself that of all the people to give a free membership to, it should me. I need it the most.

  “Come on by any time,” he says, smiling at me and then back at my boss. “Thanks for all your help,” he tells her.

  The door chimes its annoyingly loud chime as the guy leaves, and my boss goes back to her office, and I’m left here with my half-eaten salad and a postcard that offers me a free gym membership for a whole year. I read over the text, looking at all the features the gym offers. I’ve never been to a gym. I’m not opposed to them, I would just have no idea what I’m doing.