Page 23

“I do pilates too,” I said quickly, automatically flexing as I crossed my arms. I may have also shoved my fists under my biceps to make them look a little bigger. “Easy to lose flexibility when you reach my level of muscle mass, so it helps. And I run.”

“Me too.” She nodded at the treadmills behind me. “I was about to go do a cool-down run right now.”

“So was I.” I hadn’t been. I was exhausted from my gruelling workout, but she didn’t need to know that.

I was not going to be leaving this fucking gym before her.

“Oh yeah?” She crossed her arms and gave me a quick once-over. I tensed my pecs and thighs to make them look bigger. “Are you sure you’re lifting enough?”

Fucking pardon?

“What do you mean by that?” I asked defensively, resisting the urge to glance down at myself. Was she saying I looked… small?

She held up her hands. “Nothing. I just can’t believe you’re not totally wiped after a solid hour of weightlifting.”

I scoffed. “I basically have endless stamina.”

Our eyes met as I said it, before we both looked away quickly.

“I can easily do a run right now,” I told her, wishing my stupid fucking ears would stop fluttering. “Sure you’re up for it? You were going pretty hard on the hack squat machine.”

She raised a brow and turned to head for the treadmills without a word. Probably because I’d basically just admitted to watching her like a creep while she worked out. My fucking ears wouldn’t stop fucking twitching as I trailed after her, keeping my gaze studiously fixed on her long, dark ponytail and not any lower. Not on the tight leggings and crop top. The sliver of smooth brown skin visible between them.

She placed her water bottle in a treadmill’s cupholder, so I jumped onto the empty one beside it before anyone else could claim it.

“What’s your max speed?” I casually asked, fiddling with my earphones as I waited to see if she’d put hers in.

She didn’t, tucking them into the other cupholder alongside her towel. “Depends on the day.”

Shoving the earphones in my pocket, I turned on the treadmill and set it to a nice easy six to begin with. As I started jogging, I furtively looked over at the screen on Anita’s treadmill. She was on six too. Nonchalantly, I bumped mine up to seven.

“So,” I began as we jogged side by side, “did you take yesterday afternoon off or something?”

She glanced over at me with a slight frown. “No.”

“Oh,” I said lightly. “Okay.”

I couldn’t bring up the email. Then she’d know I’d noticed she hadn’t replied, which I shouldn’t have noticed, because it wasn’t like I’d sat around all afternoon waiting for her to get back to me.

“It’s just that you never replied to my email,” I found myself blurting, and internally cringed. “About getting the times for the viewings over to me.”

Anita’s lips twitched, then pursed. She gave a tiny shrug as she ran. “I must’ve forgotten. Seeing as I got the viewings arranged much earlier than I said I would, I was free to focus on other work.”

“Oh,” I repeated, terser this time. “Okay.”

She was totally lying. She hadn’t forgotten. She’d done it on purpose to try and get to me. God, it was like she wanted me to notice her all the time. Ignoring my emails. Turning up in her tight leggings and crop top at the gym and practically jumping up and down until I felt obligated to go over and say hello. Goading me into running with her because she was so freaking competitive.

My legs were feeling a little weak after all those front-loaded squats, but I still had some juice in the tank. We fell silent as we continued running, and when Anita bumped her treadmill up to eight, I waited a few seconds before increasing mine to nine. And adding a five percent incline.

I was breathing a little harder now, and I eyed my water bottle longingly, wishing I’d had a drink before starting. But I was running too fast to be able to do it now without possibly squirting it all over my face, so I resolutely ignored it—and the human beside me—and fixed my gaze on the middle distance.

Eventually, Anita increased her speed to a nine and added a six percent incline, so I bumped mine up to ten and seven percent, respectively. I would’ve gone higher, but… my legs were kind of burning.

Fifteen minutes later, Anita showed no signs of stopping, her feet still pounding steadily on the belt, arms pumping lightly, ponytail swinging as she regulated her breaths.

I, on the other hand, was about to die.

This may possibly have been a mistake.