Bear
“I fucking hate you,” Giselle says from the floor where I’m standing over her. Sweat covers her neck, her chest, drips off her hairline and into her eyes.
“Kick your legs up like you mean it,” I challenge.
She grits her teeth, and then with a grunt, she sends her legs up, straight and together, her core firing up before I grab her sneakers and throw her legs back down toward the ground. It takes a focused breath from her not to let them hit the ground, and then she pushes them back up to me.
Again, and again, and again.
I finally call it, and she flops out like a fish, chest panting as I grab a towel and hand it to her. “Get some water,” I say, doing the same. “I think we’re done for today.”
“You think?” she pants, groaning a bit as she sits up to grab her water bottle. She takes a long swig, shaking her head. “When I asked you to be my personal trainer, I imagined jumping jacks and high knees and some pushups. I didn’t picture a full hour of unimaginable torture.”
I chuckle. “You’re already stronger than last week, and remember — you asked for this.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says, extending a hand up for mine. “I only do it so I can stare at you without a shirt on.”
I grab her hand and help her stand, laughing off the comment. When she’s up, I don’t miss the guys on the benches behind her letting their eyes wander every inch.
She’s wearing tiny black workout shorts, similar to those a volleyball player might wear, and a matching black sports bra. It’s strappy in the back, but otherwise plain. But it’s not the outfit that draws everyone’s attention — it’s the body wearing it.
I knew Giselle was fit. I could tell even under her suits she wore in the office.
But seeing her rippled midriff, her toned arms, her muscular legs with nothing covering them?
There’s no doubt in my mind that while I may be pushing her or challenging her with different exercises than she’s used to, she’s no stranger to hard work in the gym.
After toweling off her face, she lets the white cloth hang around her neck, squirting a healthy amount of water in her mouth. “You’re really good at this, Clinton.”
“Thank you.”
“No, I mean it. Really good. I’ve worked with other trainers, and they’re not like this.
They don’t check in, they don’t offer nutrition guidance — at least, not past what I can easily research myself online.
I feel so much stronger ever since you calculated my macros, since you taught me how to give my body the proper nutrition it needs. ”
“You were starving yourself before. It doesn’t surprise me that you were tired all the time.”
She shrugs. “I thought caloric and fat deficiency was the key. Thanks for teaching me otherwise.” She pauses, assessing me. “How many other clients do you have?”
“Just a few. I can’t take on too many — not right now, anyway. I need to stay focused on my real job.”
“What if this was your real job?”
I blanch at her question, toweling off my neck before I take a seat on one of the benches. When I don’t answer, Giselle crooks a smile and plops down next to me.
“Think about it. You understand fitness. You understand nutrition. You know how they work together. You get joy out of helping others, right?”
I nod a little more with each statement.
“And you have a degree in graphic design, with experience in client management and a little HTML knowledge, too. I mean, you could literally run your own business.” She pauses. “If you wanted to.”
I lift my brows, turning to face her. “I never thought of that.”
“Well, now you have,” she says with a smile. Her eyes are warm, almost playful as she watches me. She opens her mouth to say something else, but before she can, my phone rings, the sound making both of us jolt a little.
“Hey, babe,” I answer. “Finishing up training with Giselle. Can I call you right back?”
“Of course. I’ve got about forty-five minutes before my next class.”
“Give me ten.”
When I hang up, I know there’s a goofy grin on my face, and Giselle pokes her finger right where I know my cheek indents a bit when I smile like that.
“Whew, you are smitten, aren’t you?” she teases.
I blow out a breath. “You have no idea.”
“She must be something.”
“She is,” I say, showing Giselle the picture on my background. “And let’s just say the road here wasn’t an easy one.”
Giselle whistles, taking my phone and studying Erin. “She’s gorgeous. I’d say you’re a lucky guy, but since I know you, I think the luck is mutual between you both.”
“Thanks,” I say with a shrug, taking my phone and tucking it away again. “But trust me — I’m very much the lucky one.”
Giselle doesn’t say anything but smiles and looks at her watch. “Alright, I guess I should get going. Dinner meeting with a client,” she adds with an eye roll. “But let’s touch base about the next month — because I’m officially hiring you as my trainer and nutritionist.”
“You already paid me.”
“Well, I’m going to pay you more.”
I grab my neck. “Well, thank you, I guess. I’ll make a plan for the next four weeks. Just so you know, I’m doing a little traveling at the beginning of November.”
“Oh? Where to?”
“Just going home for the weekend. Pittsburgh,” I clarify when I see her frown of confusion. “Erin’s never been, and I want to show her around where I grew up.”
“Erin is the girlfriend, I presume?”
I nod. “It’s just for the weekend, though, so it shouldn’t affect our training.”
Giselle frowns, standing when I do. “You’re flying all that way just for a weekend?”
“No paid time off yet,” I say with a shrug.
Giselle’s mouth tugs to the side, then she waves her hand in the air like she’s batting away a fly. “Take a longer weekend, maybe a Wednesday to Sunday.”
I frown. “But I—”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll work it out with Henry.”
Henry my boss, she means.
“You’ve been working your ass off and you deserve it.”
My head is spinning a little — first from the idea she put in my head about my own company, and now from this. “Um… I guess if you’re sure.”
“I am. And remember what I said about the confidence thing?” She smacks my ass with her towel. It’s playful, along with the grin on her face, but I admit it makes me a little uncomfortable. “Stop acting like you’re surprised when I tell you how great you are. It’s kind of annoying.”
I smirk, but don’t have anything to say in response.
“See you at the office,” she says, and then she grabs her water bottle and struts away toward the locker rooms.
Every guy she walks by has to fight not to watch.
Ninety percent of them lose.
My thoughts are still whirring when I pack up my own gym bag and head out of the gym. I pull my phone out to call Erin back, and that’s when I see the text from Skyler.
I know you have plans on Halloween, but are you free the night after?
I could really use a Bear Hug.
My chest aches. Skyler and I haven’t had the chance to hang out much, what with her in her last semester as president and finishing up school, and me working and focusing on my new relationship with Erin.
I’ve got a big one with your name on it, I type back.
Her only response is a heart emoji, and I make a mental note to pick up burritos from her favorite spot off campus on my way to see her.
Once the text is sent, I call Erin back, and count down the hours until she’s in my arms again.