Gym Junkie

Rourke’s eyebrows rise, impressed. “You can actually pick up girls in the bathrooms? Where is this gym at, because I need to join as soon as possible?”

“Get in line,” Callie snaps. “You should see this fucking guy.” She drags her hand down her face. “And his friends, all suave and buff looking. Christ.”

I laugh and continue sticking the boxes together.

“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting him tonight?” Callie asks.

“Yeah.” I shrug. “I’m not going to go.”

Her eyes widen. “Why the hell not?”

“I’m tired, I have to finish packing for the move tomorrow, and….”

My voice trails off.

“And what?”

“Simon,” Rourke sighs, disgusted. “She’s sitting here thinking of fucking Simon and being loyal to him.”

“It’s not Simon!” I snap.

“Well, Simon’s probably balls-deep in his,” Callie air quotes, “non-wife material right now, and I can guarantee you that he’s not thinking about you, Tully.”

I fake a smile. “Funny.”

“It’s true.”

I stare at her for a moment.

“Get your mind off Simon. You need to have fun. You do have to admit that the gym junkie would be fun.” She puts her hands over her heart and throws her head back to the sky to feign fainting. “Oh God, so much fucking fun.”

I look at Rourke as he holds his hands up in the air. “Don’t look at me, I’m trying to work out how to jump the fence here. I need to convert myself from the marrying type of guy to the fucking gym junkie kind of guy… on the double.”

“You want to be the marrying type of guy,” I tell him.

“No, I don’t. I want to be the fucking type of guy. Nobody wants to be the marrying type of guy. Not even guys that are married want to be the marrying type of guy.”

I laugh.

Callie stands. “Come on, Rourke, let’s go. Tully needs to go to the gym.” She blows me a kiss. “Go to the gym, meet your gym junkie, and for the love of God, forget all about Simon.”

I swipe my key over the door scanner at 9:35 p.m. I’m late, but after not wanting to come and deliberating the whole thing for over an hour in the shower, I’m finally here.

I’m not really sure why but what the hell. It can’t hurt, I suppose.

I walk into the gym and look around. There are a few guys up the back, and one girl on the treadmill.

Brock’s not even here. All that overanalysing for nothing

Damn it.

I get onto the treadmill and start walking. I turn up the speed and walk faster. I suppose I’ll just work out then. That’s an anticlimax.

I took an hour to psyche myself up to be here and he doesn’t even show.

Fucking typical.

All men piss me off.

Oh well, his loss. I turn up the speed and begin to jog, but when I look up in the mirror there he is. I see him. He’s sitting on the weights bench in the corner, and he gives me a slow sexy smile. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and navy sports shorts.

My stomach dances in excitement. I force a smile to my face and then look down, pretending to be uninterested.

God. He’s so…

He’s probably nothing more than a prop.

That’s what I would do if I owned a gym. I’d pay gorgeous guys to hang out and just be present. It makes good business sense, for sure.

I run for fifteen minutes, while he does his repetitive weights sets and watches me. To be honest, I wish he would look away because I’m dying over here. I can’t run for this long normally. I’m totally showing off and I may go ass over tit at any moment, and skin my other knee down to the bone.

One man finally leaves the gym, and then five minutes later the other one follows. Another group of guys walk out from the back, until there is just one woman left in the gym doing sit ups. Brock’s eyes fall over to her, and I wonder is he thinking the same thing as me:

Buzz off, woman. Why are you in the gym so late at night, stupid?

I stop running and bring the treadmill back to a walking pace. I wipe my face with my towel and watch as the lady finally packs up her things and leaves through the front door.

Brock’s eyes find mine in the mirror and a dark smile crosses his face.

Shit, my heart begins to beat so fast. I keep walking, and he stands to make his way over to me.

“Hello,” he purrs.

I smile goofily. “Hi.” Why does he have to be so damn sexy? I can’t even pretend to be cool.

He puts his hand over mine on the handrail and I feel the energy zap between us.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he says.

My eyes hold his as my stomach flips. “Y-you have?” I pant.