4. Hudson
Chapter 4
Hudson
I ’m up bright and early on Monday morning, ready for my first day at my new job.
“Ah!” My boss, Michael, strides towards me, before I’ve even figured out where I should store my gym bag. “Just the man I wanted to see! Follow me and we’ll get your ID pass and locker all set up, and then I’ll introduce you to some of the team.”
Like the new kid on his first day at a new school, I trail behind Michael, heading through the main area of the already busy gym and pass the set of doors which lead to the studio rooms.
I try not to look in room number five as we pass by.
And fail.
At this time in the morning, however, it’s empty, devoid of any pretty dark-haired dance teachers.
I ignore the pang of disappointment drumming through my stomach.
Slipping through the unmarked door at the end of the corridor, I shove my gym bag into the locker Michael gestures for me to use – number eleven. He shows me how to lock up – a quick tap of my ID wristband until the device flashes green – and then passes the wristband through a scanner.
“All set and ready to go, Hudson.” He hands the waterproof ID tag to me, watching as I thread it onto my wrist for safe keeping. “There is a small fee to pay if you lose your ID tag, so we advise everyone to keep it on their person while at work. Are you ready for your first day?”
“Yep,” I answer with a confident nod of my head. A thrill of excitement dances through me knowing I’m about to get back into doing something I love and have a passion for.
“That’s the right attitude to have.” Michael pats my shoulder. “You’re going to love it here. So, I’ll introduce you to a few people this morning. I’m sure they’ll become familiar faces after you’ve been with us a week or so.”
We run into Rosie first; a petite woman sporting a pixie cut who has a few personal trainer clients and who also runs the boxing class in room one. She looks me up and down, appraising me, even though I tower above her and then grins.
“I’m Rosie,” she says, sticking out her hand.
I slide my hand into hers. “Hudson.”
“You’ll fit in nicely.” I’m on the receiving end of another toothy smile and then she flounces off, pulling a mobile phone from the back pocket of her leggings and moving her thumbs rapidly over the screen.
A few of the other personal trainers I meet – Chris, Leo and Rex – are all as friendly as Rosie, slapping my back in greeting and welcoming me into their fold.
Michael slips away, leaving us boys to get acquainted, while I step up to the weight rack beside Rex.
“You been training for long?” he asks, stacking up metal weights on either side of the barbell.
“About six years, yeah, ever since I left college.”
Rex bobs his head. “Worked in a few gyms?”
I huff out a laugh. “You could say that.”
“I did the same, mate, before I found this place. Been here about three years now and I can’t complain. You don’t mind spotting for me, do ya?”
I spot Rex with ease through his fifteen reps and then we switch, both of us lifting the weights until we’re covered in a thin film of sweat.
When the alarm on my wristwatch chimes to signal I’ve got fifteen minutes until my first client arrives, I leave Rex to finish up and head into the showers to make use of the staff only cubicle. Doing a quick body scrub, I shrug on a clean shirt and a set of jogging shorts – it might be freezing cold outside, but inside I’m usually always running warm – spray some aftershave and deodorant and make my way back into the main area of the gym.
I scout around until I spy a man who stands drifting around the edges of a stationary bike machine, looking like he’s not quite sure where to start.
“Hey.” Allowing my feet to carry me towards the pedal bikes, I stick my hand out for him to shake. “I’m Hudson. Are you Mitch?”
The man – Mitch – bobs his head jerkily and pumps his hand into mine.
I grin. This is my element. “Nice to meet you, mate. I’m your new personal trainer, if you’d like to follow me, we can have a chat, I’ll show you around the space so you can familiarise yourself, and then we can get started, does that sound alright?”
“ H ow many clients are you hoping to take on a day?” Chris, another personal trainer, asks me while we chow down our lunch together.
Catching a stray pepper before it can fall from my fork, I answer him and then glance upwards when I catch a glimpse of an older woman who stands waiting for the kettle to boil.
“That’s Mrs Platt,” Chris all but whispers. “She’s a battle-axe.”
The woman in question turns as if she knows we’re talking about her, making me feel like a schoolboy whose been caught by the teacher doing something he shouldn’t. The deeply etched line between her grey eyebrows tells me the way she’s scowling right now must be a rather permanent expression.
She sniffs. “You’re new.”
“Yeah, I just started today. I’m Hudson. It’s—”
“Hm.” Mrs Platt hums in the back of her throat and not in a good way either, before taking her flask of tea and leaving the staff room without another word.
“She’s been here for years so I don’t think Michael dares fire her, but I don’t think she can stand any of us who work here.”
I stare at the door Mrs Platt just walked through, chewing on a piece of grilled white chicken I prepped the night previously. “I think the feeling’s going to be mutual, mate.”
T he rest of my first day whizzes past.
In fact, my first week and a half at my new job passes by in a blink of an eye.
Each evening, I’m more than ready for my head to hit the pillow and for sleep to pull me under. I’m exhausted, but in the best way.
Over half of the available spots I have for personal training sessions, fill up in the first couple of days. I chalk it up to the fact it’s because we’re now in the tail end of January, and the month is almost running out for those who decided their New Year’s resolution would be to start going to the gym.
I might have extensive training plans, which I tailor to each individual client based on their gym goals, coming out of my ears, but you’re not going to hear me complaining. I’ve always loved training people, pushing them to be their best self, seeing results and knowing I’m making a difference to someone’s life.
It’s gratifying and rewarding in a way I’ve never been able to explain to anybody, not even my sports obsessed older brothers, Blake and Grey.
My second Thursday evening at work sees me in the staff room, looking over my chock-a-block schedule. I’ve got one more client to meet and then I can call it a day… maybe I’ll ask Chris, Rex and Leo if they fancy getting a pint or two down at the local pub – The Stag’s Head – because I could certainly do with something to help me wind down.
I slept in by an extra thirty minutes this morning, which isn’t a big deal, but it did mean I didn’t have enough time to fit in my own workout session. The lack of release means I’ve been on edge all day, a little snappish too if I’m honest, which is why I’m in the staff room rather than on the main floor. Sometimes my tongue gets away from me and I don’t want to accidentally say something snarky to a regular and get myself fired.
Tapping the pen against my lower lip, I mull over the messy scrawl of ink in the top left-hand corner. Apparently, past me has a note to relay to future me, but it’ll be a miracle if I can make out the loops and hard edges of my own handwriting. Fuck knows what it says. Hopefully it’s not something too important or I’m fucking myself over big time.
My mobile phone buzzes in the back pocket of my shorts – a welcome distraction. That is until I read the notification.
My 6 p.m. client is cancelling.
With a frown, I scratch out their name on my schedule, and thumb out a quick reply asking if they’d like to reschedule or if the personal training program is no longer something they’re interested in attending.
Tapping send , I fold up my schedule and shove it into the depths of my locker. I could just finish up for the day, seeing as how I don’t have any other clients lined up tonight, but the tension inside me is already overspilling.
I guess I could hit up a few of the girls I vaguely know from around the club and bar scenes who might be free tonight for a few hours, just enough to blow off some steam…
But I can’t be bothered with the small talk. I just want to empty my balls and then sleep and I don’t care how selfish that sounds.
Locking my stuff up tight, I decide I’ll use the hour I should be training to do my own workout and then if that isn’t enough, I’ll have to resort to scrolling through my contacts list to see who wants to come over tonight.
Stalking to the line of rowing machines, I set my phone and water bottle down by the side, before swinging my leg over the seat rest. I’m about to jam my headphones into my ears, with the wish of finding a song with a heavy beat to block out the surrounding sounds, but a small tap on the shoulder stops me.
I turn to find a pretty auburn-haired girl smiling at me.
“Hey.” I grin back.
“Hey, yourself. I’m Tasha. I just wanted to give you my number.” She pushes a scrappy piece of paper, most likely ripped from a notebook, into my hand. “Maybe we could get together some time?”
I’m slightly taken aback by her upfront approach, usually I have to work a little harder to get a girl’s name and number, but I’m not complaining.
Catching her fingers in mine, I shove the piece of paper into my pocket with a nod. “I’ll call you.”
I probably won’t, but it’s the polite thing to say; my mother didn’t raise an ill-mannered son.
Grinning, I watch as Tasha flounces away, leaving me to my business.
Headphones in, a heavy bass soundtrack vibrating through my ears, I buckle both of my feet into the pedals, and wrap my fingers around the electronic ‘oar’, which is really just a handle that is connected to the flywheel, causing enough resistance to mimic the pull and drag of real water.
Tightening my abs, I lengthen my hamstrings, powering through my legs to push myself backwards. Inhaling deeply, I bend my knees and flex my biceps, abdominal wall crunching as I drag myself forward.
One.
Two.
Three.
I row until my breath catches in my throat and I’m panting, my calves and upper arm muscles aching with use. My stomach protests as I bend forward a final time, placing the handle in its catch and sliding my trainer clad feet out of the metal pedals.
Reaching for the hem of my all black t-shirt, I use it to wipe the beaded sweat from my forehead. Cool oxygen kisses its way across my bare abs, quickly followed by pinpricks of heat which at first, I mistake for blood flow.
But when I drop my shirt and look up, across the floor of the gym, it’s her electric blue eyes on my body causing my skin to heat.
In the past two weeks since I started my job, we haven’t crossed paths since that first day. Something I chalked up as a right shame, but I was too busy settling in to do anything about it, and she certainly hadn’t come to find me.
But now…
Her gaze stays on my stomach for another heartbeat, even after I’ve hidden my toned six pack with my t-shirt, until she herself looks up and her blue eyes meet my green ones.
Without meaning to this time, it appears I’ve once again caught the attention of the pretty, long dark-haired dance teacher who’d threatened to call security on me when she saw me peep through the window of her dance class.
It had been a true accident, I promise.
Although… I wouldn’t mind doing it again if I got to see her in another pair of killer heels, moving her body in ways that should be illegal.
I feel the corner of my lips uptick into a smirk.
My smirk only grows when I notice the slightly pink tinge beginning to flush her cheeks.
I don’t think she meant to get herself caught checking me out.
And yet, she’s not looking away.
Rising to my full height, I hit pause on the music track blasting through my ears and pocket my headphones.
It takes me all of five strides to reach her.
“Have we met before?” I ask, standing toe to toe with her, but leaving but an inch between our feet. “You look familiar.”
Miss black haired beauty isn’t impressed by my joke.
Like the last time I saw her, she crosses her arms over her body and takes half a step back, putting space between us.
“Har har.” Sarcasm drips from her tone. “Very funny. You know damn well where you recognise me from.”
I drop the joke and try a different tact. “Looks like you recognise me too.”
Those pretty blue eyes of hers narrow in displeasure.
“Unless you were just checking me out for the fun of it,” I continue, not even fighting the Cheshire grin which threatens to overtake my lips. “I can’t say I mind either way. Although, I have to admit, the second option seems much more fun than the first… don’t you think?”
“You really shouldn’t be flirting with me,” she says, but her voice lacks the conviction I think she was meaning to convey. I don’t know who she’s trying to convince more; me or herself.
A noncommittal hum slips out from my throat as I watch her twist a single gold band on her left-handed ring finger.
Shit.
She’s married?
Wait.
I look at her hands again, noting the way she uses her thumb to spin the shiny gold band on her… middle finger.
Thank fuck. For a second there, I really thought…
I flick my eyes back up to her face, catching, just in time, the way her features pinch in discomfort for a moment.
Have I read the room wrong?
Wiping the smirk from my face, I stick my hand out. “I think we’ve gotten off on a little bit of the wrong foot. I want to say I really am sorry for looking through the window of your dance class, I know just how much the gym should be a safe space for everyone and it was never my intention to make you feel uncomfortable. I apologise if I did so.”
She looks down at my hand, up to my face, and then slides her soft palm into my outstretched one.
I desperately try to ignore the way her hand fits, engulfed in mine.
“Thank you,” she says. “You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, but still, I appreciate your apology.”
I nod. “Maybe we should start again. I’m Hudson.”
“Giselle.”
It’s a pretty name. A pretty name for a pretty girl.
She smiles softly, gently squeezing her thumb against my knuckles and then retracting her hand. “So… you’ve been working here about a week now?”
“A week and a half, yeah.”
“How do you like it so far?”
“It’s good. Busy. But I like that.”
Giselle bobs her head in agreement. “Have you always been a personal trainer or…”
“Pretty much always,” I answer. “I worked in a café once, when I was fifteen, serving tables, but it didn’t last long.”
A quiet huff of laughter escapes Giselle’s nose.
“What about you?”
“Me?” Those pretty blue eyes of hers dip away for a second, looking over my shoulder at something, or someone, before she returns her gaze to me. “What about me?”
“Have you always taught dancing?”
“Oh!” She laughs again. This little sound I find myself wanting to find ways to hear again. “To some degree, yes. I taught dancing in musical theatres around London before I started up my own set of classes.”
“So, you’ve been here a few years?”
“Yep. I’ve been teaching dance and meditation classes here for a while now. Although, the dream—”
“Hudson!” I feel a slap on my back before Rex’s grinning face dips into my vision. “A few of us are finished for the night, so we’re thinking of hitting the pub down the road. You coming with?”
“I—”
That’s exactly what I wanted an hour or so ago.
Now…
I don’t want to turn down the invitation, but I’m not finished talking to Giselle. I want to find out what she was going to say before we were interrupted, and these meditation classes she teaches. What are those?
I look to Giselle. “You coming to the pub?”
She shakes her head, ponytail swishing with the jarring movement. “Can’t. I have a late meditation class starting at eight.” Her eyes flick between Rex and I. “Have a nice evening, though. I’ll see you both around.”
“See you,” I mutter, my eyes following her as she struts away, disappearing down the studio corridor.
“Bye, Gee,” Rex shouts and then chuckles in my ear, throwing his muscled arm around my shoulders. “Anything you want to tell me, mate?”
I duck beneath his arm and shove at his chest, smirking. “Nah.”
“Mate, Giselle’s a knockout. Like off the charts. She’s just got this thing about her to lure you in.”
Yeah, tell me about it.
“It’s dangerous,” he continues, as if reading my thoughts. “Women like Gee are always the ones you never see coming; one minute you’re thinking with your cock, the next you’re thinking with your heart. All that lovey dovey shit girls like. Trust me, I’ve been there, done that, got the badge. It didn’t fucking end well. Just be careful, lad.”