“What are you going to do with turmeric? It’s not something you just use on its own like salt or pepper.”
“Well, I was going to make a turmeric latte, but then I read the whole recipe and realized I didn’t have ginger or cinnamon, so I kind of lost interest.” I shrug. “I thought it would be a healthy substitute for some of the coffee I drink.”
“It would be an amazing substitute,” Mateo says. “Turmeric has great antioxidant properties and it’s definitely better for you than coffee. A lot of people believe turmeric even improves brain function, you know.”
“I did not know.” I slow as we approach the exit to the park. “Well, if I end up making it, I’ll bring you one and we can have improved brain function together.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.” Matty looks like he’s genuinely touched.
“Until then, how about I buy you a coffee and a sandwich?” I offer directly this time, just in case he insists on paying. “You need to keep your strength up for your next client, after you were nice enough to run with me today.”
“I’d run with you anytime. You know that.” Mateo’s voice softens for a second, and then he glances at the pillar at the park exit. “But I would be a terrible trainer if I didn’t make you do a little post-run stretching before we head out.”
“But you’d be a very good friend if you decided we could skip the stretching and go straight to carbs.” I do my best to look coy but hopeful. I hate stretching more than running and Matty never lets me skip it.
This time is no different. “I’m not going to remind you that Zabar’s has salads, but I am going to insist you stretch. That’s being a good trainer and a good friend.”
“Fine. Jeez.” I haul myself over to the pillar and stick my foot up on it, bending over my knee. Mateo does the same on the other side. I study his calf muscle, noticing the way it flexes as he stretches. His fingers reach toward his toe and as I’m admiring his long fingers and short, blunt fingernails he looks up, catching my eye. I feel like I was just caught staring at his half-naked picture and I’m not sure why. If he asks, I don’t know what I’ll say. I was thinking you have nice hands? Gee, what strong calves you have?
If I said either of those things Matty would think I’m nuts, and I’d ruin the great afternoon we’ve been having. So instead I smile and make a show of grabbing my own toe before saying, “Enough stretching. What do you say we go get those carbs?”
Mateo comes around the pillar and extends his elbow. “Your wish is my command.”
I take his arm, giving it a little squeeze, and grin up at him. Post-run Matty is sweaty and temperature-hot—and more than a little bit sexy-hot. My brain stumbles on that thought and I look down at my feet so he can’t see the expression on my face.
It must be too much talk about his Instagram. This is Matty I’m thinking about. Sure, he’s muscular and gorgeous and pretty much has the perfect smile...but it’s Matty. My friend-slash-trainer. I just need some food. And, much as I hate to admit it, a little less Instagram.
A thick meaty sandwich and a little less social media and I’ll be fine. Right?
11
Mateo
April
One beautiful woman is half-naked and glistening in front of me. Another woman is nestled up to my rear end. For most men, this would be the ultimate fantasy.
For me, it’s like I’ve entered some horrifying alternate universe.
“Mateo!” Jodi, the woman behind me, pokes me between the shoulder blades. “What’s the problem?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Sorry.”
“Is it too busy in here?”
“Nooo.”
I step aside so Jodi can throw her bag in the small row of cubbies by the front door. One of the reasons I like this parkour place is because it’s never too busy.
But this evening, it feels bursting at the seams from just the unexpected presence of Allison Gottlieb.
The last time I saw Al, she chided me for working too hard. I do work hard. It takes time and effort and money to build an empire.
Most people are surprised when I tell them how expensive it can be to stay healthy. Junk food is always cheaper than fresh vegetables and grass-fed beef, and a hell of a lot easier to get. It doesn’t help that Seth routinely “borrows” my farm-fresh, organic eggs. Then there are supplements, vitamins, paying dues at gyms around town, teeth-whitening and new boxer briefs to show off on Instagram.
Okay, maybe those last couple of expenses don’t keep me healthy, but they keep me in a different kind of green. The time I spend with Allison is priceless, but I need to put a dollar value on the time I spend with clients like Jodi or my rent doesn’t get paid.
Jodi hired me to keep her accountable, not get her in shape. The tall brunette scrapes her hair into a bouncy ponytail and begins casually stretching next to the base of the first platform. She looks more like a fitness model than I do and is probably my easiest client, but at this moment I feel like I’m stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place.
Allison hasn’t noticed us yet. She’s focusing on jumping from platform to platform, her face pink and wisps of damp hair sticking to her cheeks.
I wonder if she would be shocked to hear that I think she’s just as beautiful when she’s tired and sweaty as when she’s dressed for work or all glammed up.
This Al—my Al—is trying. She’s here on her own, practicing.
She makes my heart swell with pride and admiration.
She’s also about five seconds from slamming into Jodi’s head.
“Al!” I shout, in the hopes of getting her attention and avoiding a collision. My timing could be better, I realize, as her head jerks up mid-leap.
“Ahhh!” She screams in surprise, her eyes widening and her arms flailing as she tries to stick the landing.
She manages to stop one wooden platform away from Jodi, but the angle limits her options. Either she is going to smack her knees hard and wrap her hands around the edge to hold on, or she’s going to slide down the plywood and end up with an ass full of splinters.
Instinctively I rush forward with my arms outstretched, ready to catch her if she falls.
It occurs to me with a flash of irony that I’ve been doing this same thing throughout our entire friendship.
It’s a toss-up as to which of us is more impressed when she recovers enough to twist, lower into a squat and jump down to the floor—safely, if not gracefully.
“What the hell, Matty!”
She’s flushed and breathing heavily as she glares at me. Her Beast Mode T-shirt is tight across her chest and damp in spots from her effort. How long has she been working out this evening? I wonder. I need to get her cooled down and stretchi—
“Matty?” Jodi snickers. “That’s cute. I guess you two know each other?”
Oh, right—my actual client.
If Allison is surprised to see me here, then she is downright shocked to see me here with another woman.
“Are you taking a break now?” Jodi asks Allison as she balances against me, folding her long leg up behind her to stretch her quad. “Or can I work in?”
“I…uh…” Allison looks from Jodi to me, her gaze dropping to the other woman’s hand on my arm. “I guess I’m done.”
“Great!”
Jodi jumps into action and starts the course with the determination of the investment banker she is. I know I’m supposed to be spotting her, but all I can do is stare at Al.
Allison, for her part, is focused on the water bottle she’s plucking from the floor.
“You come here often?” I joke.
Apparently I’m not as funny as I think I am. There’s confusion and hurt in her eyes when she meets my gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she says with a little sniff. “I didn’t know I needed to make a reservation. I thought this was an open gym.”
I frown at the tone of her voice, which has cooled down faster than her muscles. “It is. What’s wrong?” This isn’t my Al.
&n
bsp; “Nothing.”
She gives me a hard look before turning her back on me to watch the other woman jump like a jackrabbit. At the end of the platforms, Jodi climbs a rope and disappears over a wall.
“She doesn’t seem like she needs a personal trainer.”
Is it my imagination, or is there something weird in the way she says “personal”?
Before I can analyze it, she pivots and brushes past me to head to a nearby mat. She sits down and spreads her legs out into a wide V, still not looking at me. I wish I could sit down and mirror her movements, show her how to use a partner to stretch. Clasp her hands and press our feet together, our thighs straining and open to each other.
Watching her bend forward, her chest grazing the floor, I also wish for looser track pants.
“You’re doing really great, Al.” I can’t keep the admiration out of my voice, not that I really want to. I want to do everything I can to support her, encourage her—not just as a trainer, but also as a friend.
Of course, I’m her friend first.
That’s part of the reason I’ve started taking melatonin after our evening sessions together. Being around Allison has always given me a buzz, but now that boost in energy is screwing up my sleep. She has no idea the role she plays in my restless dreams and in my overactive imagination as I lie in bed with my body tight and thrumming.
“We’ve made so much progress,” I say as a victorious shout erupts from Jodi at the other end of the gym.
Now Al’s chin rises and her eyes narrow at me. “Have we?” When she tilts her head to the side to stretch her long, creamy neck, her eyebrows lift—no, they positively arch—in Jodi’s direction. “I guess that’s good. Otherwise I’d feel bad for taking you away from your…other clients.”
That’s it, I think to myself—I have entered an alternate universe. This is the rip in the time-space continuum where Allison Gottlieb is not the friend I thought she was. This is the wormhole in which Allison Gottlieb…
“Are you jealous?”
Her eyes widen. Her lips pucker in a way that almost looks like she wants to be kissed. “W-what would I have to be jealous of?” she stammers, pulling her legs together.
Interesting. She isn’t saying “no.”
She also isn’t looking at me. Her cheeks redden, despite her cool-down, and a flush creeps down her neck.
Is it possible that Allison might be seeing me differently? The idea is both electrifying and terrifying—and more than a little arousing.
Damn track pants.
The lurching sensation in my chest is familiar. Putting my heart on the line for this woman is usually not a good idea, and it’s one cardio exercise I’ve yet to master.
The best thing for me to do right now is to drop the subject. So I do.
“Mateo!” Across the room, Jodi is beckoning me.
“Uh, excuse me for a minute?” I ask Allison.
With most clients, I’m the one who says “jump” and they ask how high. With Jodi’s bossy nature, it’s often the other way around.
Al’s smile is faker than a bad spray tan. “Of course. You’re working right now.” She waves me off casually but her face is still pink and she keeps looking over at the slender woman who is now doing handstands against the opposite wall.
I jog over, trying not to look back at Allison.
“What do you need?” I ask as I squat down beside Jodi.
“Your attention,” she grunts as she shifts her hands underneath her. Only a shark-like investment banker like her could give me shit while upside down.
“Sorry, Jodi. She’s an old friend. And another client,” I add.
“Move.”
I shift over as she pushes her feet off the wall and her legs fan out and down to a standing position again. Her face is as red as Al’s now, and her hands are on her hips.
“Does she know you like her?”
“What?” I glance back at Allison, who is trying to hold a seated glute stretch that has her positioned to look directly at us. When our eyes meet, she drops her gaze. “I just said she was an old friend,” I tell Jodi. “Of course I like her.”
“I mean like her like her.” Jodi raises an eyebrow and folds her arms over her chest.
I laugh. “What, are we in seventh grade now?” Without waiting for a response, I grab her water bottle from the floor and hand it to her. “What do you want to do for the rest of your time?”
Her eyes narrow at me as she drinks. “Oh, forget it, Romeo.”
“Mateo,” I correct her.
“I’m gonna do some more bodyweight stuff, then catch a cab and get home in time to read my kids a bedtime story.” She flicks her fingers. “Go get your flirt on.”
“I told you, she’s just a friend.” Mostly. Unfortunately. Maybe not forever?
Jodi snorts. “The way she’s glaring at me makes me think she hasn’t gotten that memo.”
As my head whips around to see what she’s talking about, Al pivots to turn her back on me.
Huh.
I walk back over to where Allison is sitting, noticing as I get closer that the tips of her ears are red.
“Sorry about that,” I say.
She looks down at the mat and exhales as she stretches her legs out in front of her. “Hey, she’s the client.” An awkward chuckle escapes her, but Al still doesn’t meet my eyes. “Maybe I should pay you more. Or anything, really.”
I tilt my head. What’s going on in her head? I wonder. Is she jealous?
“Well, ‘the client’ is fine; she’s almost done. Are you still stretching?”
Her fingers wiggle as they reach toward her toes. “No, I’m playing water polo,” she jokes.
Her shoulders are hunched up around her ears and her knees are popping up. Forget Jodi, I tell myself. This client—this friend here is going to hurt herself. I sit down in front of Al in a mirror position, the soles of my sneakers flat against hers.
“Here,” I say, leaning forward and reaching for her, “I want to show you something.”
She hesitates, so I’m careful to keep my expression neutral when she lets me take her hands in mine. It occurs to me with a jolt that despite working out together, having dinner together, just spending time together, our skin rarely touches.
It seems like such a junior high thing to get a thrill from it. But the warmth of her palms against mine and the way her fingertips nestle between my knuckles sends a shiver down my spine.
“Now what?” she asks in a quiet voice, staring at our joined hands. When she looks up at me, confusion lingers in her eyes, but the hurt has dissipated.
“Straighten your back a little and drop your shoulders. Try to squeeze your shoulder blades together.”
She does as I command, her breasts pressing against her shirt until my mouth is dry.
“Okay,” I manage to say, her hands still in mine, “now bend at the waist—not the neck—slowly. About forty-five percent. Try to keep your legs straight; you should feel this in your hamstrings.”
She nods as I hold her gaze and pull her toward me. Her grip on me adjusts as her head nears mine. “Like this?” Her voice is low and strained.
“Just like this. There are lots of great stretches you can do better with a partner. It’s a lot of moving back and forth, and using each other for opposing force.”
“Opposing force?” Her lips curve into a small smile.
I grin. “And balance,” I add. “Yin and yang.”
She bites her lower lip and sinks further into the position. It’s not until I see the freckles on her nose and feel her breath on my face that I remember I’m supposed to lean back while she stretches forward.
I straighten up a little, and she groans and wriggles her butt against the mat.
“You okay?”
“I think so. I didn’t know it would feel like this,” she pants.
“Usually you don’t know what muscles you’ve been overusing until you stretch them. But you have to work out opposing muscles for balance. You
use your quads a lot when you’re jumping.” I lower our hands and brush my pinky fingers against her kneecaps. “So now we’re stretching the other side. There’s always another side.”
She nods at me before looking down and trying her hardest to touch her chest to her legs. I look at her hair, damp and messy, as her head moves closer to my lap.
Al lets out a moan, then lifts her head, her eyes glittering. “I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow because of you,” she breathes.
Fucking track pants.
“Okay, that’s enough,” I tell her in a strangled voice. I let go of her hands and wipe mine nervously on my thighs.
“See you later, Romeo!” Jodi’s voice startles me, and my head jerks up to see her breezing out of the gym.
“Uh, she knows your name is Mateo, right?”
I turn back to Al, who looks confused. “Yeah. Uh, inside joke.”
Her mouth flattens briefly before something changes in her eyes, and she gives me a shy smile. “Is that it for the stretch? What about the other side?”
My heart skips a beat at her smile. I shrug. “Well, now you have to pull me toward you.”
Am I talking about the stretch or something else? Something more?
Maybe this is my chance to find out if she thinks of me as more than a friend. Maybe this is how I can encourage her to…stretch. Past her job, past her family guilt, past her self-doubt and need to prove herself. The Al I know needs more than her job to be truly happy, even if she doesn’t fully realize it. But can I convince her that she needs me?
Hell, I’d settle for her just wanting me.
She holds her hands out expectantly, palms up. “Okay,” she says playfully. “I’ll try, but remember I’m not as flexible as you are.”
Truer words have never been spoken, I think to myself with irony.
Carefully I wrap my hands around hers again and let her tug me toward her. The seam of my pants presses against my crotch and I find myself wishing I had a hand free to adjust myself.
“You’re stronger than you think, Allison Gottlieb.”
Happy New You Page 9