Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
The work week is finally over, and I’m spending my Friday evening in the gym of my building, determined to strengthen my muscles a bit.
Misha teased me at lunch about our next hike, which could be on Sunday if the forecast stays good.
I don’t want the aftermath to be as disastrous as the last one, so here I am in the weight section, which is completely unfamiliar territory for me.
But at least the struggle to figure out how to do this keeps my mind off the guys and August, who hasn’t reached out since his initial call, leaving me anxious.
Grabbing a pair of three-pound weights, I decide to start small for my arms. As I awkwardly begin my workout, the gym door opens, and Oliver and Morgan walk in, dressed to work out as well.
She spots me first, her face lighting up as she waves and grabs Oliver’s upper arm to pull him over to me.
“Hey, Amelia, what a nice coincidence,” Morgan says cheerfully.
“I’m not really the kind who works out, but all the books and plants I used to enjoy belonged to my client, so I can’t really do what I like.
And watching movies all day gets boring, so here we are. ”
Having your home and your things taken from you must be hard. “You can borrow some of mine if you’d like,” I offer, smiling.
“I’m not really into Twilight, but thank you,” she teases with a grin.
I laugh. “I have other stuff, too, you know. But there’s a pretty cool bookstore downtown—”
“Oh, amazing! That’s such a good idea. Let’s go tomorrow morning. We could grab some coffee and then browse for a while,” Morgan interrupts, excited.
I didn’t mean to suggest we go together, more to just tell her about the place. But sure, why not? Morgan seems nice, and I could always use a new book.
She pulls out her phone. “Give me your number, please.” I rattle it off, and she lets it ring once to confirm. “Great, text me when you’re awake.” She grins, seemingly satisfied.
Oliver has been watching from the side, but as Morgan goes to walk on a treadmill and I start to pull up the small weights again, he steps closer, a slight frown on his face.
“I’m doing it wrong, aren’t I? I’ve never done this before,” I admit, feeling embarrassed.
“Not exactly wrong, but you could improve the motion. I can show you if you like, but it works your way too.” His voice is calm and reassuring.
“Please?” I ask, looking up at him.
For a brief moment, heat flickers in his eyes, and my heart skips a beat. But then he steps behind me. His fingers glide over the back of my upper arm, just a breath of a touch sending a shiver down my spine. His fingertips press gently into my skin, signaling me to lift my arm a little more.
“Like this…” he whispers, and with his guidance, I adjust my grip on the weights, ensuring my palms are facing upward and my elbows are close to my sides. As I begin the curl, Oliver’s fingers trace along my bicep, highlighting the muscle that should be contracting.
“Focus on squeezing your bicep as you lift the weight and control the motion as you lower it back down,” he continues, his voice tender but precise. “Keep your upper arm stationary. Let the forearm do the work.”
I feel the difference immediately. “Why are you so good at this?”
“It follows rules. It’s not just anything. It’s cause and effect. Do A, achieve B. I like logical things.” His breath is warm against my ear, making my skin tingle.
He adjusts my arm once more, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary.
My pulse quickens, and I can’t help but be acutely aware of his presence.
Then his fingers brush my shoulder, sending a jolt of electricity through me.
“How does that feel?” he asks, his voice now low and, if I’m not mistaken, a little gruff.
Like I need more of your touch.
“Much better.”
“Good,” he says, his lips curving into a smile that I can hear in his voice. “You’re a quick learner.”
I bite my lip, trying to steady my breathing. “You’re a good teacher.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teases, stepping even closer.
Heat radiates from his body, and it’s intoxicating. I turn my head, catching his gaze. There’s a spark there, something unspoken but undeniably present.
“I’ll have to remember that,” I say, my words catching in my throat.
“Please do,” he replies, his eyes not leaving mine.
We continue the exercise, the air between us charged with something, and I find myself hanging on his every word and touch when we change the movement.
“Like this,” he murmurs in a low whisper. “You’re doing great.”
“Thanks to you.” The way he looks at me, the way he touches me, it’s making it hard to focus on anything but him.
“Maybe we should make this a regular thing,” he suggests, his tone playful now. “I’m enjoying this.”
“You sure? I would’ve guessed you had better things to do than show me the basics of weightlifting.”
“You’d be surprised,” he counters with a grin. “Besides, I think you’re enjoying it too.”
That was bold for him, and I like it.
I wonder if there’s more where that came from.
“Maybe I am. But only because you’re so good at explaining things. Very logical, Mr. Personal Trainer.”
“Logic is my strong suit,” he says, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “But I think I’m enjoying this a bit more than I should. Does that make sense?”
Bloody hell.
“Perfect sense,” I whisper back, my heart pounding. “Just like cause and effect.”
“Exactly,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing my skin again, sending another shiver down my spine. “Do A, achieve B. Simple as that.”
“So what’s B in this scenario?” I ask.
Please let it be your hands on me.
“Let’s just say it involves spending more time together,” he replies, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that takes my breath away.
“I think I can handle that.”
I hope I can handle that.
“Good,” he says, his smile matching mine. “Because I’m not planning on letting you go anytime soon.”
His words send a thrill through me, making me realize just how much I’ve been craving this connection—him.
But it’s not just him, which could lead to complications, after all.
It’s late, well past midnight, and the apartment is quiet.
Grey is in bed, Morgan is in bed, and Misha fell asleep on the couch after dinner. I’m alone in our home office, sitting in front of the monitors. Sleep eludes me, my mind buzzing with thoughts of Amelia.
Her smile, her laugh, the way her skin felt beneath my fingers.
The way she made me feel alive like I was floating.
So, I sit here, staring at the dark screens of her apartment, writing her a letter I will probably never give her.
I write how the day of our coffee date has been the best day I’ve ever had and how I can’t wait to have so many more best days with her.
I describe how it felt to kiss her cheek and touch her skin.
How I feel drunk on her presence. And like a drunk person, I get bold, but I also speak the truth.
I’m not planning on letting her go anytime soon.
Or ever.
The light flickers on the screen in front of me, and Amelia walks out of her bedroom, dressed in a short pink pajama set that shows off her long legs. She looks adorably rumpled but not like she’s been sleeping as she gets herself a glass of water before walking over to the couch and slumping down.
I reach out to grab the microphone and ask as Jamie, “Amelia, something wrong?”
She jumps a little but then sighs. “No, I just can’t sleep.”
“Why?” I ask, already feeling concern creeping in.
Did I say something stupid today?
I was a little forward, but since I felt she was also interested, I could speak much more freely somehow.
“I just can’t stop thinking about them.” Her whispered words make my heart stop for a second.
Them?
“Who is them?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady even if I feel anything but.
“Oliver, Misha, and Grey. It’s that stupid crush I have on all of them. First, I thought it wasn’t a big deal because it was one-sided, and nothing would ever come from it. But now… it’s messing with my work and my sleep.”
“You have a crush on all of them?”
This can’t be right.
“I know it’s stupid. When I’m alone with Grey, it feels like I have a crush on him, but then I spend time with Misha, and all I can feel is how hard I crush on him.”
And I already know how they look at her. The same way I do.
“When I’m alone, I can’t stop thinking about them, and now Oliver… God, Oliver. I can’t stop thinking about how he looked at me and about his fingers on my skin…”
She sounds desperate, lost in her thoughts.
And I have to put the volume up because I almost can’t hear her over the pounding beat of my heart in my ears.
She thinks about me.
“I can’t sleep because all I wanted to do was reach out and kiss him. I want him to be here to touch me again.”
She wants me.
“But this would be too much and too soon, and I can’t do anything if I’m still not sure which one of them I’m crushing on, even though if I’m honest with myself, I know it really is all of them.”
My hands are sweating so hard. I can’t even be mad about her having a crush on the others because she has a crush on me. Right now, she wants to kiss me and wants me there with her. She can’t sleep because I’m on her mind as much as she’s on mine.
“That sounds like a lot,” I say after the silence stretched for too long, struggling to find the right words.
“I know, and it’s probably too much for an AI to understand my stupid little human heart.” She sounds so defeated.
“Your heart is not stupid nor little if it has space for all of them. What can we do to make you settled enough so you can sleep?” I ask, wishing I could do more than just talk to her through Jamie.
“Nothing. I’d need to have Oliver here,” she says as if talking to herself.
The longing in her voice is like a punch to the gut. Knowing she feels this way about me, even amidst her feelings for Grey and Misha, fills me with a strange mixture of joy and frustration.