Chapter 31 #2
She glances over her shoulder at me. “Actually, yeah. I’ve been wanting to add more weight, but every time I picture it, I see myself… crumbling.”
“I’ve got you,” I assure her, doing my best to sound steady as I step into position. She sets up her first squat, and everything stays focused on the assignment except my eyes.
They have a mind of their own.
Jesus. That ass.
I quickly snap my gaze up in time to catch her smiling at me in the mirror, and my mouth goes dry.
Yep, I’ve been caught.
“I… uh…” I stammer, feeling heat crawl up my neck. “Just, you know, making sure your form’s good.”
She chuckles. A low, knowing sound. “Sure you are.”
Idiot, I scold myself, scrambling for some dignity as she struggles through her set. “Might be easier if you adjust your stance a bit,” I suggest, half-expecting her to brush me off. “I can help… if you’re up for it.”
It comes out awkward, and I instantly remember Sylus telling her he’d show her the ropes, which had earned him an eye roll. And here I am, practically doing the same thing. Idiot, indeed.
Only she doesn’t roll her eyes as she lifts the weights to secure the bar. I automatically move to help as she replies, “I’d love some help if you actually know what you’re doing.”
“Weightlifting and parkour are my only real talents,” I share, feeling the blush fade a little as I find my footing again.
“Parkour?” Her eyes go wide, interested. “Like, the rooftop-jumping, wall-scaling kind of parkour?”
“Not exactly the movie version,” I explain, chuckling as I rub the back of my neck. “But close. It’s more about moving through obstacles with control, but yeah, sometimes rooftops are involved.”
She crosses her arms as she leans back against the rack, giving me a once-over that goes straight to my core. “I always thought that was something people did in movies.”
I huff a laugh. “I’m not half as cool as you’re making me sound.”
“Oh, if anything, it makes you less cool.” She smirks, giving me a playful look. “Wasn’t parkour in trend, what, ten years ago?”
Her words hit a little harder than I expect, and the old sting of my high school days when my quirks made me a target surfaces. I push it down, raising an eyebrow to match her teasing. “Is that so?”
She tilts her head, studying me a moment longer, then her expression softens, the teasing slipping into something more genuine. “Yeah, but honestly? I’m done with cool. I’d rather be uncool with you.”
Her words settle over me, unexpected and warm, and the corner of my mouth curves up. I shift a little closer, the air around us suddenly charged. She looks up, catching my gaze, and I hold it for a beat longer than is casual, feeling my pulse quicken.
I don’t know how she does it—finds exactly the right words and gets behind the armor I’ve spent years building up. But as I watch her grin, a spark of warmth spreading through me, I know I don’t mind at all.
When she turns back and resumes her squats, I watch her form, stepping in to guide her stance when necessary. She starts to flag, the bar slowing an inch too soon, so I lean in and encourage her, “Keep going. You’re stronger than you think.”
She glances up, her eyes sparking with amusement. “You know, you sound like you’re about to start a motivational fitness channel.”
“Only if you’re my first subscriber.” I relax marginally, glad that the earlier awkwardness has faded.
She lets out a laugh, followed by a few deep, slightly labored breaths. “All right, Mr. Parkour. Tell me… why weights? Isn’t all that jumping and climbing around enough of a workout?”
I rest a hand under the barbell for support, giving her a breather.
“Strength training helps with control,” I explain.
“When you’re in midair, your muscles need to know what to do.
One wrong move, and…” I snap my fingers, mimicking a fall.
“It’s like everything’s connected. Balance, strength, finesse… it all has to be there.”
“Finesse, huh?” She smiles, clearly amused. “You make parkour sound like an art form.”
“It is,” I reply simply. Our eyes meet, and I feel the pull of honesty. “It teaches you things. How to trust yourself or push limits without crossing them. There’s more to it than looking cool on rooftops.”
She nods slowly, something in my words seeming to strike a chord with her, but then she shakes her head, and it’s gone. “All right, I’m so done.”
I laugh, stepping in to help her guide the barbell back onto the rack. She turns to me, still breathing a bit heavily, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. The faintest hint of jellybeans and sweat hits me, and it’s a strangely intoxicating mix.
“I think you’re turning me into a parkour convert.”
“First lesson’s free.” I hand her the towel she’d hung on the rack earlier. “After that, you owe me a coffee.”
She takes the towel, dabbing her neck. Her delicate, beautiful neck. “Oh, I see how it is. You lure me into your workout routine, then hit me up for a caffeine payment.”
“Not just any coffee,” I correct. “Best spot in the city.”
She squints at me. “You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?”
Not at all.
What the fuck am I even doing?
“Maybe.” I shrug as if my heart isn’t racing. “Or maybe I like the idea of coffee with you. Either way, you’re the one with the bill. Don’t tell me the magic twins don’t pay you well.”
She grins. “All right.”
Fuck yes!
Cool, Nico, keep it cool.
“I, uh… I train kids in parkour,” I start, clearing my throat a bit too late to be natural. “Every Wednesday afternoon at two at Sunset Park.”
She blinks, looking genuinely surprised. “You do?”
“Yeah.” I run a hand over the back of my neck, looking down at my sneakers.
Koen and I used to go to parkour classes as teens.
Then, things changed, and I stopped going.
Years later, when I couldn’t shake the itch for it, I found out they’d stopped offering the classes.
So, I started teaching them myself. It started with a couple of kids at first, but now there’s a whole little crew.
And it’s the one thing that keeps me tethered to reality, something even my mother has no clue about. I keep it separate. Pure.
Private.
And yet here I am, inviting her to it.
“Give me your number?” she says, that shy smile again slipping onto her face. “Just in case I get lost finding the place.”
Damn, that smile.
“Of course,” I say, fumbling for my phone, trying not to look as ridiculously pleased as I feel. We exchange numbers, and as I type her name into my contacts, there’s a flutter in my chest. Something feels right about this, even if I don’t entirely understand it yet.
After she saves my number, I watch her slip her phone back into her bag, the thrill of it all still buzzing in my veins.
“See you Wednesday,” she whispers and heads off toward the treadmills, presumably to finish her workout.
Like an idiot, I watch her for a moment longer, but then I force myself to look away, grabbing my water bottle and taking a long drink.
What am I doing?
The question repeats over and over just as it did during our entire encounter. I’ve never lingered around anyone like this or cared if someone noticed me or not.
But Rosie is genuine in a way that makes me want to keep peeling back her layers, figuring out what makes her laugh or why she doesn’t play by the same rules as everyone else in this city.
Maybe that’s what I’m chasing. Something that isn’t for sale dressed up in expectations or tainted with ulterior motives.
Maybe, for once, it’s something, someone just for me.