Ugh, fuck.
“Keep your damn legs up!” Dale screams at me just as I feel my core screaming its final death notes.
“F... Fuck you!” I grunt out at him.
“That’s right, pansy boy! Talk some smack, that’s all you’ve got,” Dale cackles as he drops a light weight ball on my stomach.
The air threatens to woof out of me as I try to maintain a clenched core and keep my legs up in the six inches of hell position he has me in.
“You smell that, Chase?” Dale asks the big asshole beside him.
“What’s that?” Chase asks.
“That’s the smell of pussy coming out of his pores!” Dale cackles again.
“Dale!” Avery shouts from the other side of the gym.
“Dammit,” Dale grouches before looking down at my panting ass.
Oh shit.
“Pushups, and don’t you let that little beer gut touch the floor!” Dale snarls at me.
“What the fuck?” I ask as I try to slowly roll over to my stomach.
I think I’m fucking dying.
He snarls. “You got me in trouble.”
“But…” I wheeze out.
“That’s ten more, asshole. And if I get in trouble again, I’m just gonna keep adding,” Dale says before he shouts, “Casey, get your sticks over here now!”
Well, at least I’ll be in good company, I think as he tells Casey to drop.
“What did I do?” Casey whines.
“You think I didn’t hear about what you said to that sainted woman, Helen?” Chase asks.
“Shit,” Casey whispers to me.
Unable to help myself, I snicker at Casey. “Yeah, this is probably going to hurt.”
“Up!” Dale shouts.
Shit.
“Stay there, gentlemen. And I’m using that term loosely,” Dale says.
“Crap,” I grunt when I’m up.
I figured I’d be doing pushups. Nope, Dale is going for pure torture.
“Down,” Dale says, then without giving us a break, “up!”
Fuck. I keep reminding myself I’m doing this for all the right reasons. Bree’s watching, and for the life of me I can’t let her see me fail.
Something about that damn kiss yesterday has set my ass on fire. It’s like all the pain, the hate, the self-doubt, the black abyss, was pushed far away from me.