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I flipped the paper over, scanned it quickly and saw, to my embarrassment, that all I’d done was complete the impassioned, handwritten essay portion, but left the back of it blank—no name or contact information. I shut my eyes for a second, mortified.
“I figured it was yours after your participation in class today. Your knowledge base on the topic,” he said evenly. It showed considerable professionalism that he didn’t refer to my participation as ‘when you handed that guy his ass over being an anorexia-denier’.
“Yes, it’s mine. I apologize for turning it in when it was incomplete. I got carried away on the topic and neglected to flip the paper over to fill out the application. If you’d still be willing to consider me for the position, I’ll fill it out right now,” I offered, sort of holding my breath, hoping he’d let me finish it up now so I could still be in the running when it came to the internship.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said.
“Oh,” I said, deflated, “I understand.” I understood that I blew the most exciting opportunity of my college career because I was in too much of a hurry to scribble my name at the top of the paper.
“I—appreciate you letting me know that the reason I wasn’t in the running was because of my careless mistake on the application and not because I was unqualified. Your gym seems like the kind of inclusive and safe environment where I hope to work someday. That’s my ultimate goal, to help guide other people in recovery through curated plans for moderate exercise. It’s helpful, with mental health as well as getting your strength and stamina back after you’ve abused your body in that way. I’m glad that A+ is out there, I guess is what I’m saying. I’m getting a lot out of your class, for what it’s worth, and I hope I get another opportunity to observe or assist at a gym like yours in the future.” I said, feeling like I needed to say it, to express to him how valuable his business model was and how beneficial his class was not just for me, but for the truly ignorant people in the program to get a clue before it’s too late.
“It’s actually worth a great deal to me, thank you. I’m glad you approve of my gym as well. Especially considering the fact that I asked you to stay after class so I could offer you the internship.”
Stunned, I stood there just staring at him for a minute. I was speechless. I had thought this was a demonstration of how I’d screwed up in leaving my name off my essay. Here he was offering me what I wanted. My first impulse was to shriek, to let out one of those screams that people do when they win on game shows in the euphoria of triumph.
It’s me. I win. I WIN!
I couldn’t give in to that instinct, because it would be improper in a lecture hall at UC-Berkeley to start squealing like I’d just won an oven on TV.
It took me almost a full minute to master my excitement and emotion so I could say, with reasonable calm, “Thank you so much. I’m very excited for the opportunity. This chance is the first step to everything I want. Thank you, Professor Parks,” I said, and extended my hand to shake his with what I hoped was a socially acceptable level of eagerness.
Just like that, he took my hand, and then covered my hand with his other one. Hands that felt really big and sexy and rough in a way that made my whole body light up and feel restless.
“I look forward to having you on the team,” he said, just like he was a normal person who knew how to say appropriate things in situations like this. I felt my grin widening when I met his eyes. They were so blue and bright and piercing that I felt a flutter in my chest just from being looked at by him in a totally platonic, student-professor way.
If we stood there about, say, half a minute too long with him literally holding my hand in his, maybe that was just a coincidence. If the eye contact was pretty heavy to me, and warmth splashed through my body and heated my skin, that was just because I was happy to have the internship. It meant nothing. When I looked down at where our hands were still joined, seeing the smooth dark tan on his skin, I registered that his thumb was stroking my wrist in tiny, soft circles. Oh lordy, my body had known about it, but when I saw it and my brain took notice, all cylinders began firing. I was breathing heavily and took half a step closer to him.
He released my hand abruptly and said he’d see me at the gym on Wednesday. I think I thanked him again and I mentioned an email he was going to send me, where I’d sign the agreement to adhere to all safety regulations and keep client information private and all that.
I called my dad to tell him I got the internship I’d applied for, and he asked me to come over for dinner to celebrate. When I left my afternoon class, I picked up his favorite Italian cream cupcake at a bakery near the campus, then I headed over to his house, the same little place I grew up in. It looked the same as ever, and I gave him a big hug when I walked in. Catching up with my dad was the perfect way to finish off my great day, and I couldn’t wait to tell him all about it.
CHAPTER8
AARON
Leanne was a terrific student, bright and articulate and passionate about exercise being inclusive and therapeutic, not just about physical appearance. She had a fiery temper, I glimpsed that in class when she let Jackson have it over his foolish remarks. She had a good head on her shoulders, and I was thrilled that she was going to intern at A+ Fitness.
For some reason, I felt like I was headed for the edge of a cliff and the brakes weren’t working. Like this had been a big mistake. My gut was telling me that I had invited trouble in the door. The situation was ripe with potential disaster, and I hadn’t seen it coming until now.
It had nothing to do with her appearance. She was attractive, that sweep of reddish hair gathered into a ponytail, the curve of her cheek when she blushed a little, and the way her body looked strong and grounded. But her looks weren’t the issue. Her mind, her personality, the essay she wrote and how willing she was to be open and vulnerable and speak her truth. I knew I was lucky to bring her onto my team
I knew now that her soft, warm hand clinging to mine had felt like an intimacy on par with kissing the back of her neck. Shaking her hand had been sexier than a lot of the actual sex I’d had. I had looked away knowing that my eyes had been hot on hers, and she had seen it. God help me, Leanne had seen the hunger in my gaze. She was an intelligent, observant woman. No way had she missed that. The desire that had flared in me, against my will.
I could handle it. I had sat at a table when I was training for a major climb and refused a cheesy slice of pizza because I knew simple carbs would make me weak. I had gone without booze for months at a time for the same reason. I could deny myself and focus on a goal. In this case, making it a productive internship and successful class for my talented student who would never be anything more to me than a student. I felt the wrench of self-denial, the sharp longing for what was forbidden, but I tamped it down. The very thought was beneath me.
Problem was, I wanted Leanne beneath me. Above me. Straddling my lap. Bent over my desk right there in the classroom, her ponytail wrapped around my hand. I broke a sweat all over my body. I had to get it together.
I grabbed my keys. In no time I was at the gym, changed into workout clothes and putting myself through the paces. The most punishing workout I could devise for myself, twice as many reps of every move I particularly disliked. Exercises that required concentration and focus, not mindless repetitions of things I’d done a million times. I despised every minute of it, but if I made my body buckle under the effort, I could burn the wrong attraction out of myself, sweat it out and leave it on the mat.
Later, I stood under a cold shower, swearing under my breath. I dressed and grabbed a quick green juice at the snack bar. I went home and crashed, exhausted, brain revolving in a hectic spin from maxing out several muscle groups in one day.
It was deep into the night when I awoke in a sweat, damp sheets clinging to me. I flung them off and sat up, my heart racing as the images unfurled behind my eyes.
I had been having a dream about showing Leanne around the gym after hours, just the two of us. The real me would never do something so risky. My professional ethics were strict.
But I could let myself lie in the dark and unspool that dream from the beginning. For the moment, I could let myself recall it.
I showed her proper form on the machine and got up to let her try. She stretched out on the bench facedown, hooking her ankles under the bar and doing a hamstring curl. I checked her form, making sure she didn’t overextend. I wasn’t staring at the flex of her muscular ass, watching the ripple of strong thighs under tension. ‘Here,’ I said, placing my hand just beneath the small of her back and pressing down, ‘you don’t want to arch your back. You could injure yourself.’
