Page 25 of Gym With Benefits

"Yeah, but she booked your last slot, Brock. The 'nobody else is in the building so we can actually hear each other breathe' slot."

I adjusted a bench, the metal clicking into place with a definitive snap. "Or maybe that’s the time that works best for her. Convenience. Nothing more."

"Convenience." He let out an incredulous laugh. "We’ve been friends for too long. You don’t get to use your personal trainer voice on me and expect it to work. Just tell me the truth.”

“What are you talking about?” I stopped what I was doing to look at him. The badgering was relentless and annoying. “What truth?”

“You think she’s hot.” He narrowed his eyes at me, willing me into submission with a look. “You had your hands all over her at the free weights.”

"I was thinking about her lack of core stability," I countered, sliding my hand over the knurling of a barbell to check for grit. "She’s a foundational challenge who could use some guidance."

"I’m gonna ask her out.”

“Then ask her out.”

“I don’t want you getting in the way,” he said, sounding whiney despite his efforts to play it cool. “Everyone’s always throwing themselves at you, and I just don’t want that happening with Jess.”

I turned to him, the iPad a heavy shield in my hand. "She has a lot of external pressure. The wedding, work stress. My job is to provide a neutral space for her to move weight. That’s it."

"Right. Neutral." Hunter pushed off the plates, a tired but triumphant grin touching his mouth. "Just remember, the neutral ones are the first to fall."

He walked toward the front desk, leaving me in the center of the iron. I looked down at the iPad, at her name sitting in the final box of the day. Hunter was a hopeless romantic with a head full of psychology, but he wasn't blind. I knew the weight of my own gaze. I knew why I’d cleared that specific hour after Jess said she’d be booking a class.

I just didn't need him to be right about it.

The morning rush was a cacophony of iron and the high-pitched whine of the cardio deck. By nine, the lobbyists and lawyers had filtered out, replaced by the secondary wave of the D.C. elite. The ones who didn't have to clock in.

Juno arrived exactly four minutes late, draped in monochromatic designer spandex. She always looked like she was in a hurry to get somewhere she didn’t want to be.

"Don't kill me, Brock," she said, dropping her quilted bag onto the bench near the pull-up station. "Don’t forget the gala on Thursday. My heels are five inches of expensive torture. If you make me do a single lunge today, I’ll have you fired."

"Upper body and core. Like we agreed," I said, giving her a scout’s salute. "But on Friday I’m all over those beauties until you can’t stand without holding onto something."

"You’re a lifesaver." Her hand lingered on my bicep, her fingers tracing the curve of the muscle with a practiced familiarity. "Maybe after the session, you could help me stretch out the... tension in my shoulders? It’s been a grueling week."

I caught her wrist and redirected her toward the mat. "The foam roller handles the tension, Juno. I handle the reps. Let’s start with thoracic rotations."

Her pout was a choreographed expression of disappointment, but she dropped to the mat. This was the dance. I played the part of the unattainable pillar, and she played the part of the tireless huntress. It kept the contract active and the checks clearing. To Juno, I was a physical achievement she could purchase by the hour. To me, she was a series of kinetic missteps that kept the lights on.

Once she finished her final set of eccentric chin-ups and disappeared toward the steam room with a suggestive wink, Hunter was across the floor.

"Three years, and I still don’t know how you do that," Hunter said. I couldn’t tell if it was awe or judgment in his tone. Maybe a bit of both. "The woman’s all over you. You’re all over her,as a matter of fact. And you want me to believe it’s strictly professional?"

I wiped down the bench, the disinfectant cutting through the air of the weight room. "Nothing happened. Nothing ever happens. Juno’s a high-maintenance client who enjoys the theater of a crush. It’s part of the service."

"Unless you’re holding out for someone else." Hunter stepped into my space, his arms crossed over his chest. The half-smile was only partly a sign of light-hearted humor. I knew him well enough to know where this was going. Who this was actually about.

"For someone who knows me better than anyone, you’ve got it all wrong.” I gripped the cleaning rag, the fabric bunching in my fist. "You’re with me all day at work. You’d know if I ever crossed a line with my clients, which I haven’t. And I’m not gonna start now."

The teasing grin vanished, replaced by the clinical, piercing focus of the counseling student. He stared at me for a beat, the silence between us growing thick and crowded.

"So you’ll be okay if I asked Jess out?”

“Knock yourself out,” I said, entertaining the absurdity with a deep bow. The surprise wasn’t my best friend falling in love at the drop of a hat. But if she said yes to him, I’d admit to being shocked.

The glass doors at the gym’s entrance hissed open. Mrs. Gable, a regular who required a very specific brand of hip-stabilization work, marched toward us.

"Brock! My gluteus medius is acting up again," she called out, her voice echoing off the high ceilings.