Flirting with the bad boy: A love at the Gym Novel Page 5

  I try to distract myself by picking a maroon silky dress off the rack and taking it to the fitting room. I can’t reach across my back to zip it up, but it looks pretty as I twirl in the mirror. I try on a few more dresses, but none of them are as enticing (or cheap) as the dress I’ve already chosen online. I ordered it a couple of weeks ago and it should be here soon. It’s also maroon like this one I’m trying on, but it’s prettier. It has a halter top with sparkly beading, and a chiffon layer of fabric that flows down to my feet, while the inner layer stops at my knees. I sent in my measurements to the Etsy seller so she can custom make it to fit me like a glove. I can’t wait. It’s going to be gorgeous.

  And I was supposed to have a gorgeous date standing right next to me at this gala. Now, I’m not so sure.

  My phone lights up with a text from Suzy. Every text or call I’ve gotten over the last three days have been from either her or someone else who isn’t Kris. Doesn’t matter though, I still get nervous thinking it might be him.

  Suzy: I finally watched the finale of that singing show. Oh-em-gee was it stupid.

  Me: Totally stupid, right? Ugh. Why did we waste our time on it?

  While I’m waiting on her reply, I slip off the dress and put it back on the hanger. It’s been another half hour or so, and maybe my brothers have finally settled their dispute over the tuxedo situation.

  Suzy: So have you heard anything yet?

  I know exactly what she’s talking about. Because she’s my best friend, she’s been victim to listening to me whine and fret about this whole Kris thing for the last three days. I had eagerly called her on the drive home from the gym that night and told her all the details about how I met him and asked him to be my bad boy date. And then, every waking minute since then, I’ve kept her informed that Kris hasn’t texted me.

  She’s a really good friend for putting up with me like this.

  Me: Nope… :(

  Suzy: Ughhhh. Maybe he died.

  I know she’s just being funny, but the thought has definitely crossed my mind, too. I mean, why hasn’t he messaged me?! He said he’d come pick me up for the gala. That means he’s not planning on just meeting me there with the address information off the invitation. Nope, he needs me to tell him where I live. That means he needs to text me! Or call me! Or send a carrier pigeon!

  Ugh. Guys are so frustrating.

  Speaking of frustrating, when I walk back over to the men’s section of the store, I see my brothers practically harassing the poor sales woman. They are trying to get her to choose which one of them deserves the all black tuxedo.

  “Leave her alone,” I say sarcastically as I approach. “I can’t believe you idiots haven’t picked out a tux yet!”

  “I told them they could both get the same one,” the woman tells me. She’s older, and looks like she could be our mom, which is probably why she’s so calm and nice right now. Maybe she has annoying adult kids of her own at home.

  “We can’t get the same one,” Jack says. James nods. At least they agree on something.

  “Buy one of them and figure it out later,” I say.

  My brothers look at each other and consider my idea. “Yeah,” Jack says. “Let’s do that.”

  “May the best man win the tuxedo,” James says, standing a little straighter.

  They bump their fists together in agreement. Man, my brothers are dumb. I love them, but yeah. Dumb.

  After purchasing the one tuxedo that they’re still bickering over who gets to wear, we all head out to Jack’s truck to drive back to work. James throws an arm around my shoulder while we walk. “What’s been up with you, little sister?” he says. “You seem bummed.”

  “I’m fine,” I say as cheery as I can make it. I can’t exactly tell my brothers that I’m bummed because the guy who is supposed to pretend date me hasn’t reached out to me yet. That would kind of ruin the entire surprise of my secret gala date.

  My brother squeezes my shoulder before releasing it. “You know what I always say.”

  “What do you always say?”

  He winks and pulls open the truck’s back door for me. “Do what you gotta do, kiddo.”

  I hate when he calls me kiddo. He’s only two years older than I am. But maybe he’s onto something. I’ve spent three days agonizing over Kris and stressing over if he’s actually going to text me or if he was just lying to me about the whole fake date thing.

  I can’t spend the next two weeks wondering what’s going to happen. I need to do something. I need to know if Kris was serious about our fake date, or if it was just some joke to him.

  So maybe I’ll go visit the gym and ask him myself.

  9

  Kris

  She looks a lot different in workout clothes. She’s hotter. Well, maybe not hotter. Can a woman this gorgeous get any hotter with simply changing clothes? I doubt it.

  But my heart nearly jumps up into my throat when I see Lanie walk into the gym. I’m struck with that punched-in-the-gut feeling I got the first time I saw her, only this is under better circumstances. For one, I’m not currently manhandling a sexist customer. And for two, she’s dressed to work out. That means she’s here to stay a while.

  “Hi there,” I call out, jumping in front of Tasha who was about to approach her. Let’s be honest, Tasha does most of the work around here. It’s time I stepped up some, right?

  Tasha looks briefly annoyed, but then she glances from Lanie to me and back again, and suddenly she remembers. Luckily she doesn’t say anything to embarrass me. Tasha might annoy me privately about my love life, but I can trust her in public.

  Lanie grins at me as she scans her membership card to sign in. Not that I stalked her or anything, but I did look up the Arctic Protein account after that night I met her. Noah gave all of our clients free memberships when we first opened, and Lanie’s name was on the list. But she’s never been here to work out before.

  Coincidence?

  “Hello,” she says, clutching a bottle of water in her hand. “Just thought I’d get a workout in.”

  “Awesome, let me know if you need any help.”

  As much as I want to hang out and talk, chatting up a woman while she’s working out is not the time or place to do so. I start to walk away and Lanie hesitates, like she wants to say something. So I move a little slower.

  “It’s just…” she says, taking a breath as she gazes out at the gym. “I just thought I should get in shape before that gala. I want to look good in my dress.”

  Is that what she’s hesitating about? She looks freaking gorgeous. More than gorgeous. Her body is amazing, not that I’m being a creep and checking her out or anything…

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that,” I say in what I hope is an encouraging and not creepy way. I know my own mom was always insecure about her weight, despite my dad telling her she was beautiful all the time. I think it’s just a woman thing. They get insecure even though they’re beautiful. I don’t want Lanie to feel that way.

  “Besides, the gala is like what… a week and a half away? You can’t work out much that short of a time span. Not that you need it.”

  “So you remembered?” she says, peering up at me. That hesitation is still there, something unsure in her eyes, in her mannerisms. And then it hits me.

  It hits me hard, and squarely in the face, and makes me feel like the idiot that I am.

  “Of course I remembered,” I say, scratching my neck. “I’m your date, remember?”

  Her face relaxes into a grin. And I know what all that hesitation was about just a second ago. She wasn’t worried about working out—she was worried about me.

  “I was going to call you soon,” I say. “To confirm our plans.”

  Her grin gets wider. “Cool. I was worried you forgot.”

  “Nah, of course not.”

  How do I tell her that it’s been three days and I haven’t called or texted her yet because every time I try I get nervous? Like, not just regular nervous but stupid teenage idio
t nervous? Like, a boy who has never talked to a girl in his life nervous.

  The kind of nervous I didn’t even know was possible until I met her.

  I can’t tell her that. I can’t tell her that I looked at her number in my phone a dozen times and got too scared to call her. That I typed up two dozen text messages I never got the nerve to send. That I’ve been kind of low key panicking about this upcoming gala because I want to see her so badly and I wish it was a real date. And how I’m looking forward to this fake date more than any of the real dates I’ve been on lately.

  I can’t say any of that. I don’t even know this girl.

  She rocks back on her heels. “So… do we want to work out the details since I’m here?”

  “Sure,” I say. The nerves are still buzzing around in my chest, but she’s here in front of me and that’s somehow better than if we were on the phone, miles apart. I can talk to her easier here, when I can look into her gorgeous eyes and see her beautiful smile.

  “What time should I pick you up?” I ask.

  “Six-ish?” She puts a finger to her mouth. “Actually… maybe be like twenty minutes late. I’ll tell my brothers my date is arriving at six, and then you arrive later.”

  “Can do,” I say with a nod. “And am I supposed to act like some epic jerk?”

  She shakes her head. “No… let’s act like we’re all crazy about each other, and I’ll pretend like I don’t see all the red flags.”

  “What are the red flags I need to give off?”

  “Well, you’ll be late,” she says, touching her finger like that’s the number one flag. She touches the next finger. “You have a motorcycle, right? Drive that to my house.”

  “About that… won’t you be wearing a dress? You can’t exactly ride on a motorcycle in a dress.”

  She nods and wiggles her eyebrows. “Exactly. You’re going to be the loser who didn’t realize that.”

  I lift an eyebrow and she explains what she means. “You’ll arrive on the bike, and I’ll say I can’t ride on it, and we’ll have to take my car instead. My brothers will be so annoyed that I have to drive myself on my own date. They’re very old fashioned like that.”

  I nod. “Okay, but that makes me look like such a jerk.”

  She bites her lip. “Sorry, is that too much? I don’t want to make you feel bad when you’re offering to be my fake date.”

  I shrug. “I don’t love the idea of looking like a world class jerk, but I do love the idea of annoying your brothers. Wait… are you going to tell them after the fact that this was all fake?”

  She considers it. “Maybe? Should I?”

  “It’s up to you,” I say. Deep down I hope she does tell them because I want to hang out with her but I hate the idea of her brothers, and possibly everyone at that gala, thinking I’m some epic bad date.

  “I could wait until they get really mad and then tell them it was all fake, and that’s what they get for being so over-protective of me,” she says. My heart skips a beat.

  “That would be cool.”

  She grins. “You’re really awesome for going through with this crazy plan for me. I can’t thank you enough. If you ever need me to be your fake date for something, I’ll be happy to.”

  What about my real date? I think. I swallow down that thought.

  “Sure, it’s not a problem. If anything, it’ll be fun. I’ll be going to the gala anyhow, so I might as well have fun, right? Plus, it’s not like I had another date to bring.”

  I toss my head toward Tasha who is very clearly eavesdropping on this conversation but trying to make it look like she’s not. “I asked Tasha and she said no.”

  “Because I’m dating your best friend,” she calls out, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going on a date with you.”

  “It would be a friend date,” I call back.

  “Yeah but we’re representing the gym and I don’t want people getting the wrong idea. You know how people like to gossip.”

  “She’s right,” Lanie says. “You can’t friend-date your best friend’s girlfriend. This small town loves to gossip.”

  Tasha smiles at Lanie. “Kris is a good guy, but he’s so naive. Be glad you’re only fake dating him.”

  Lanie laughs.

  “Rude,” I say sarcastically. “I’m actually amazing and would make a great boyfriend.”

  Tasha folds her arms across her chest. “Really? Prove it.”

  I roll my eyes. “How am I supposed to prove that when I’m hopelessly single?”

  Tasha gives me a look. A knowing look. A look that only she and I would understand after months of working the night shift together. It’s a look that says: I know you like Lanie, and this is your chance to prove it.

  “Guess you’ll have to figure it out,” she says. Then she walks into the back hallway of the gym, leaving me alone here with Lanie.

  “Ignore her,” I say, trying to act casual even though my heart is beating out of my chest. I imagine a world where I’m brave enough to ask her on a real date right this second.

  “Seems like it would be fun to work here,” Lanie says, smiling up at me. She’s been smiling for most of our conversation. I like it.

  “I love this place. Opening a business with my two best friends was the best choice I’ve ever made.”

  “That has to be better than working with family,” she says with a nod. Then she takes a deep breath. “Okay so… you’ll pick me up? Should I give you my address?”

  I take out my phone and open up the map, then hand it to her. “Type it in.”

  She looks up her house and gives it back to me. I save the address. “I’ll be there just late enough to be rude?” I say with a grin.

  “Perfect,” she says. “I’ll be sure to be ready on time and then wait around like I’m all disappointed that you’re late.”

  “And then we act like we’re stupidly in love, right? Just to really annoy your brothers?”

  She nods, her teeth wearing into her bottom lip. “That’s the plan. Oh, and don’t tell me I look pretty or anything. Maybe even insult my dress. That will make them sooo mad.”

  “So… insult your looks, and also act like I’m in love? That won’t be hard at all.”

  She laughs, and reaches out a hand, her fingertips grazing my arm. The softness of her touch leaves a trail of warmth on my skin. “This will be fun.”

  “Oh yeah,” I say, feeling the butterflies in my stomach as I grin back at her. “This will be very fun.”

  10

  Lanie

  The gala venue is slowly coming together, transforming from a large empty room to a classy ballroom, with help from the dozens of people who are setting up tables, chairs, fountains, curtains, and lights. My mom usually coordinates the gala every year, but this year she asked for my help, and I feel like it’s our best set up yet. Not because of me, but because of Sherry, the party planner I hired.

  Sherry is a petite woman with bright red hair and the highest heels I’ve ever seen. I guess she wears them to make up for being so short. She carries a tablet with her everywhere, constantly checking it to make sure we’re on track. She smiles when I approach her.

  “Everything is right on schedule, dear,” she says, glancing at her tablet. “Caterers will be here at six, and the band will arrive any minute now.”

  “Awesome.” I glance around at all the servers who are laying out white silky tablecloths and shiny silverware, getting the tables decorated. A florist pushes around a cart filled with elegant bouquets of peonies, setting once on top of each table.

  To the side of the room is a long table filled with desserts. My mom loves dessert tables. We have three chocolate fondue fountains with white chocolate, dark chocolate, and milk chocolate. Then a variety of cakes and pastries from all the best local bakeries. The sugary dessert display is enough to make me want to skip dinner, even though I know we’ve catered from the best restaurant in the area so the food will also be amazing. This is going to be a great night and we’ll raise a lot of
money for our charity.

  Sherry puts a hand on my arm, startling me. “Lanie, dear?” she says, giving me a comforting Mom Look even though she’s not much older than I am. “You should probably get going.”

  “I should?” I say stupidly.

  She nods. “Unless you plan on wearing sweatpants to the gala tonight? It starts in two hours.”

  I look down at my outfit, which is something casual I threw on before I left this morning since I was going to be helping to set up the tables and chairs. “Right,” I say with a nervous laugh. “I’ll get going.”

  “I’ll handle everything from here,” Sherry says.

  I know I should be at home getting ready, but I’m suddenly so nervous about tonight. This fake date thing sounds exciting and terrifying. What if it doesn’t work and my brothers see right through me? What if Kris isn’t genuine and he’s actually friends with James and Jack and he’s already told them about the whole prank?

  The thought makes me so nervous I feel nauseated as I drive back home. I call Suzy so I can panic to her, but she’s already on her way over to my house since she promised to do my hair and makeup for the gala tonight.

  When she arrives, she looks absolutely stunning, as always. She’s got a full face of makeup and her hair is in curlers, but she’s wearing a silky robe and leggings. Her dress is in a garment bag that she’s not going to put on until right before she goes to the gala so it doesn’t get wrinkly.

  “Knowing me, I’ll spill food on it if I put it on too soon,” she says with a laugh.

  Then she sits on my bed and spreads out her impressive makeup case. “So are you excited for your fake date?”

  “Nervous, more like.”

  I sit next to her and close my eyes while she starts applying makeup.