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I nod. “Seems the shy type, maybe just ease yourself in with light conversation.”
She pats my shoulder, thanking me, and is already at the front desk by the time I have a chance to take a breath. I hate lying, but she’s so young and needs to stay away from the Jerk. Yeah, where was that rational thinking on Friday night?!
I wipe my face and step off the treadmill with unsteady legs, barely able to hold myself up. Leaning on the machine to catch my balance, I glance towards the exit and see the Jerk with Mr. Smokin’ Hot beside him. Oh, fuck no, it’s a double whammy! There is only one exit, unless of course, I exit via the fire door which in turn would raise an alarm and force everyone to look at me. I would make such a shit fugitive. I procrastinate way too much. Yeah, except for Friday night.
There you go again.
My brain is working a million miles a minute trying to think of every possible way to avoid him. I change my mind; I’m not mature and seeing his face makes me want to slap it repeatedly then shove it between my legs so Kitty could get her happy ending.
You did not just say that, brain! Get out of the gutter right now!
This reminds me of a recurring dream I have about being naked. Usually, I’m on my way to work riding the bus completely naked. No one is directly looking at me but for some reason I can’t find any clothes and nobody will lend me anything. It’s embarrassing, and leaves me feeling very exposed and ashamed. The similarities to that dream are uncanny. And even though I’m fully dressed, all eyes are on me, judging me on what happened with the Jerk. Or so I think.
Trina is busily flirting with Allan, Sarah is in the Zumba class eyeing the cute gay guy next to her, and so I am officially on my own without any friend to save me. Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I send an SOS text to Vicky.
Me: At the gym. #CantHide #Jerk #HELP!
I wait impatiently, but she doesn’t respond and I am running out of time. The bathrooms are located beside where he is standing. He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I watch him from the corner of my eye.
He is laughing, and it’s only now that I notice he isn’t wearing his glasses. He looks completely different, dressed in black shorts with a tight grey tank top that shows off his biceps. Oh, wow.
Okay, pep talk time. Don’t you dare drool over a jerk that sweet talked you into the alley and left you high and dry—or more appropriately, low and wet. You didn’t finish college to end up following a guy like a pathetic puppy dog. Yes, he is extremely good-looking. Yes, his hair looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial, and yes, maybe his body is as fucking irresistible as the new salted caramel sweets they keep showing on TV.
I don’t know whether I’m hungry, horny, or need to buy new shampoo. One thing’s for sure, Mr. Smokin’ Hot beside him is walking my way and. . . .
“Hey, gorgeous girl from Friday night.”
His smile is endearing and shyness overcomes me. Perhaps being covered in sweat without any makeup is a surefire way to lower my confidence.
“Hey, gorgeous guy from Friday night,” I repeat back.
“So you train here?”
“I wouldn’t call it training. Just trying to let off some steam.”
“How have I not seen you here before?”
I shuffle awkwardly. “Okay, you busted me. Until last week, I was a gym virgin.”
He laughs softly. “I’m Marcus by the way.”
“Presley.” I extend my hand and he shakes it, lingering while he studies my face. His eyes are light green and brighten when he smiles. His dimples are set deep, and boy is he cute. His jet-black hair is short, recently grown out from what I assume was a shaved head. He is also wearing a tank, and I have to stop my hands from reaching out to squeeze his arms.
“So, you know Haden from work?”
I nod and see Haden talking to some chick at the front with his eyes directly on me. His stare is penetrating, piercing me like a superhero trying to destroy his enemy.
Suddenly I’m self-conscious. Then I realize I’m not the moron who left someone to die in a dark alley. Okay, maybe not die, but the Jerk infuriates me with his egotistical ‘I think I’m all that’ persona. Who the fuck leaves a girl mid-orgasm?! A jerk, that’s who.
“How do you know him?” I focus back on Marcus.
“He’s my cousin. Our dads are brothers.” His tone softens, then, as if shaken, he smiles again and changes subjects.
Weird, but I don’t want to get into it. Cousins? Why is the universe punishing me?! Marcus is soooo yummy and he seems interested. What’s the worst that could happen?
“So, any chance of grabbing a bite to eat sometime?” He smiles.
There go the dimples again. In some sort of trance, I try to string a sentence together.
