Chapter 11 #2
“I need a break,” I pant, turning away. Wall. Gray, rough plaster. Yes, focus on the wall. Not his muscles. Bad idea. He’s—probably—about to be my new boss. That’s what I should be thinking about. Not his strong, well-toned arms and… a wall. Wall! Look at the wall, London!
I close my eyes, and a moment later something soft touches my neck. I open them to find Alex draping my towel over my shoulders.
“Rest up. That wasn’t half bad for a beginner.” He picks up my water bottle, but instead of handing it to me, he twists the cap open and sniffs it.
“Is this just water?”
“Yes.”
"No electrolytes?"
“I was just planning to hit the gym and didn’t bring anything else. At the gym you can refill bottles, but here there’s just water.”
Alex grabs another bottle and a black towel from the bench, wipes his face, then pours some of his drink into mine.
“Let me guess—you only had that fruit for lunch today?”
“And the salad. And the wrap.”
He gives me a scolding look. “No protein? No shake? No sports drink? Not even a banana?”
“I didn’t have time.”
“No wonder you’re so weak.”
“Hey…” I protest weakly.
“Drink first. I’ve been here longer. If you want to keep going, fine, but not too much. Not on an empty stomach.”
“But I did eat…”
“At lunch. Are you trying to starve yourself? That’s not how muscle building works. You’ll just lose water, and your body will start eating away at what little it has left—your muscles. You’ll gain weight and lose muscle mass,” he lectures, then takes a drink from his bottle.
“I know. I just didn’t have the headspace for it today. I only came here to hit something.”
“Rough day, huh?” he asks, amused.
“You could say that.”
“Wouldn’t it be something if your boss walked in right now and you could punch him instead?”
“Mr. Blackthorn isn’t here, though.”
“You could take it out on me, instead,” he suggests. His smile is stunning, and of course, I instantly smile back.
Damn. I was trying to keep it together!
“He hasn’t done anything to me, but his son…” I trail off, giving him a look.
“The one who invited you to dinner? Yeah, that sounds terrible. Awful boss.”
“He’s probably fine. I’m just frustrated with myself.” Not entirely true, but a solid excuse. I only drink after he nudges the bottom of my bottle with his fingertips, forcing me to put it to my lips.
“Exercise helps with that. But prep is key. I wouldn’t want you to burn out.”
“Someone’s thinking practically.”
“I always do. Princess.” Of course he calls me that now.
“I think I’ll head out. I’ve only been here about twenty minutes, but that’s enough. The frustration’s gone.”
Desire, on the other hand, is not—and I need an ice-cold shower as soon as possible. The last thing I need is to picture my boss naked.
“What are you doing?” I blurt when Alex strips off his shirt and tosses it on the bench.
“It was just getting in the way.” He takes another drink, giving me a perfect view of his toned torso. Every inch is perfectly defined. And those hip bones, those abs that flex with every slight movement...
I whip my eyes away and finish my bottle.
“Yeah, so… I’ll be going home now to throw a steak in the pan,” I announce.
“Don’t you want to ask me about your best friend?” he tempts, making me freeze.
“I completely forgot!”
“Not enough electrolytes,” he jokes with a grin.
“What did she tell you? About my brothers?”
“That you have three. Older ones. Then she fell asleep.”
“Nothing else?”
“She apologized. Put you in a good light.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Then why are you grinning like that?”
“Oh, I think I’ll keep that to myself.” Smiling broadly, he turns away, sets his bottle down, and gets back to the punching bag like nothing happened. He looks stunning even from behind.
“Okay, I’m really leaving now!”
No, I shouldn’t be staring at his back or his firm ass. Or those muscular calves.
Bad. Stop. Shame on me.
I should be ashamed of myself. Totally ashamed.
“See you tomorrow,” he calls, still punching while I head out.
Better hurry.
I grab my stuff and rush to the locker room, and shower as quickly as humanly possible.
One ice-cold shower later, I stand in front of the locker room mirror.
My cheeks are still bright red, like I just ran a marathon in 104-degree heat.
I sigh, patting my neck dry. The cold droplets feel soothing.
I drink more water, then slump onto the bench, sigh loudly, and dig my phone out of my pocket.
Still nothing from Nessa, of course. I’d love to call and wake her up, but she should probably sleep off her hangover.
I finally go through her messages in peace. She went to the doctor and got a two-week sick leave so she wouldn’t have to show up at school with swollen eyes from crying. I get that all too well. If it had been me, I’d feel the same.
I type back: Hey, I talked to Alex. Everything’s fine. But please—no more spontaneous stunts, okay? Especially not after drinking. Better yet, stay away from alcohol altogether, alright? Hugs.
I get dressed, leave the studio, and head home—already planning to cook myself something good to eat. Next time, And next time before I go training, I'll prepare myself better.