by Lynsey James
Suddenly, his eyes lock with mine. My heart skips a beat and, for a split second, my feet forget they’re meant to be moving. I grab the side rails and steady myself before I end up flat on my arse on a fast-moving treadmill. I see Scott’s lips curve up into a reluctant smile as he looks at me and immediately feel myself blush. Damn my rosy cheeks!
Miss Blonde Lycra Goddess has stopped squatting and is now sashaying towards him, leaning on the gym wall as she tries to speak to him. However, it looks like her efforts are in vain as Scott’s eyes never leave me. I try my best not to meet his gaze, but I can’t resist stealing glances at him. That smile of his has vanished and been replaced with a stony expression I don’t like the look of. I watch as he lightly taps the blonde goddess on the shoulder, murmurs something to her and walks over to the stairs leading to the cardio machines.
Bollocks, bollocks, BOLLOCKS!
My eyes dart around me, looking for a possible escape route. There’s absolutely none. My treadmill is tucked away in the corner and Scott’s getting closer to me. Unless I want to make a surprise break for it and smack my face on a gigantic water cooler, it looks like I’m staying put.
‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ he says as he climbs onto the treadmill next to mine.
‘I’m just full of surprises!’ I reply, trying to sound as cheery as possible while I bring the treadmill’s speed down to a walking pace. Going by the look on his face, I’ve missed the mark. ‘Look, I’m sorry for backing off last night and making things awkward. I just freaked out a bit, that’s all.’
Scott shakes his head and smiles. ‘Don’t worry about it, it’s over and done with. It’s not the first time I’ve had a knock-back from a woman and I’m sure it won’t be the last!’
‘You don’t understand; it’s not that I didn’t want something to happen last night, it’s just… I was scared of messing it up, that’s all. My experience with guys hasn’t been great and I thought I’d end up doing something to ruin it if things went further with us.’
He twists round so he’s fully facing me and leans on my treadmill. ‘You really need to give yourself a break, Cleo. I had a great time with you and that doesn’t change just because you got a bit nervous at the end. And for the record, I don’t think you would’ve ruined things. You just need to have a bit more faith in yourself, that’s all. And relax a bit more!’
Embarrassment prickles at my skin and I can feel myself turning scarlet. ‘You’re right, I definitely need to learn how to chill out! I just let stupid things get to me and stop me from doing what I want. Then I get angry with myself for not doing what I want and the cycle continues! I think it’s because I used to be so different; it’s hard to reconcile the two sometimes, you know? I was seventeen stone at my heaviest and sometimes I forget how much I’ve changed, not just on the outside but on the inside too.’
Scott leans over and hits the emergency stop button, bringing my slow amble to a halt. I frown and go to switch it back on, but he takes my hand in his before I can reach the control panel.
‘Come on,’ he says, ‘I’ve got an idea.’
*
Given that I’m not exactly a regular gym-goer, I had absolutely no idea the place had studios off the main workout area. As Scott leads me into one of them and turns on the light, I can barely contain my surprise.
‘Don’t worry,’ he says, obviously noticing the slight panic on my face, ‘I’m not up to anything dodgy here! I just thought it might be fun for you to see what you’re actually capable of in the studio, away from the main gym. Grab one of those slam balls, the six-kilo one will probably be fine.’
I follow his gaze over to where slam balls of varying sizes are stacked on a black plastic rack. I pick up the one with a large white six drawn on it and nearly drop it on my feet.
‘Oh crap!’ I squeak as I try to hold on to it.
Scott turns round and chuckles as he throws some boxing gloves and pads onto the floor. ‘Getting into trouble already, are we?’
‘Not at all,’ I reply with a smile, throwing the slam ball at him. ‘So, come on, what have you got in store for me?’
‘Well, I usually plan clients’ sessions in advance and focus on either strength or fat burning or whatever they’d like to work on. Since this is a spur-of-the-moment thing, and based on what you’ve just told me, I thought we’d find some healthy ways to get your anger out. So we’re going to do some ball slams with the slam ball and some sparring with the gloves and pads. How does that sound?’
My heart skips and a bright smile pops onto my face. ‘That sounds brilliant! Shall we get started?’
‘Glad you’re so keen!’ Scott returns my smile and throws the medicine ball back to me. ‘OK, stand with your feet hip-width apart for me.’
I do as he asks and he comes to stand behind me. Although we aren’t touching, I feel the heat from his body and my stomach begins to do funny flippy things.
‘Bring the ball above your head.’ His breath tickles my neck and I shiver a little as I feel the goosebumps begin to appear.
‘OK.’ I swallow hard and lift the ball upwards, going slowly in case I unexpectedly drop it. ‘I-is this OK?’
I’m finding it really hard to maintain composure here. If I were a little bit braver, I’d chuck the slam ball away and kiss Scott. But this is me we’re talking about.
There’s a brief pause before Scott answers. ‘Get it a little bit higher for me. Pretend you’re a member of Cleopatra lifting a much-deserved Kids’ Choice Award.’
I purse my lips to keep my giggles in, but they burst out anyway. The ball nearly drops out of my unsteady arms and I almost topple over, but Scott puts his hands on my waist to steady me.
‘Careful,’ he says with a soft chuckle, ‘I don’t want you hurting yourself before we even get started! That’d have people cancelling their bookings left, right and centre, wouldn’t it? Now, let’s check your stance.’
He has a quick look at my feet, before running his hands up my arms to check they’re stable. My breathing becomes ragged as his skin makes contact with mine and my heart’s beating so fast I think it might combust.
‘OK…’ Scott pauses for a second. ‘I want you to slam the ball to the floor as hard as you can. Visualise someone who really gets under your skin and pretend you’re holding their head in your hands. Make it anyone who’s upset you or made you feel like you’re not good enough.’
Amanda’s simpering smile instantly pops into my head, along with the awful nickname she gave me. The one that followed me through school, even before my accident. My blood begins to boil and the rage builds within me, bubbling away in my core and coursing its way through my veins.
‘Right,’ I say, gripping the ball as tightly as I can. ‘I’ve got someone in mind.’
‘Then off you go!’ Scott says, stepping in front of me and folding his arms. ‘Slam that ball as hard as you can!’
Letting my rage towards Amanda take over, I drive the ball downwards to the floor as hard as is humanly possible. However, I underestimate just how much force I’ve put into it and it bounces sharply back up, making a beeline for my nose. Scott lunges forward and catches it just before it hits me.
‘Jeez, Cleo, you like to live dangerously, don’t you?’ He laughs and passes the ball back to me. ‘You could’ve given yourself a concussion with that! Maybe I should’ve explained that you need to catch the ball after you’ve slammed it.’
‘I didn’t expect it to bounce that high,’ I explain, letting my forehead hit the ball. ‘I’ll give it another go.’
‘Should I call an ambulance, just in case?’ he jokes.
‘You’ll be the one needing the ambulance if you don’t cut the smart comments out.’ I narrow my eyes and grin. ‘I’ll show you, just you wait and see!’
I repeat the slam, throwing it against the hard wooden floor with all my might, and this time I remember to catch it. The feeling of satisfaction when the ball lands back in my hands feels sublime and ridiculous all at onc
e.
‘Did you see that?’ I yell to Scott with a bright, dopey grin on my face. ‘I caught the ball this time!’
‘You did, you’re on fire now! This time, I want you to get even more of that rage out. As you slam the ball down, I want you to shout as loud as you can about something that’s bothering you. Could be something someone did today or an event you’ve kept buried for a while, whatever you want. Just yell it loud and proud while you slam, and it’ll let you express your anger.’
‘What if it’s something a bit embarrassing?’ I say, my cheeks burning as I run Amanda’s horrid nickname through my head. ‘Can I use that? There’s this nickname… A bully at school gave it to me. I was going to use that, but it’s absolutely ridiculous.’
Scott nods. ‘If it’s bothering you and making you feel unhappy, it doesn’t matter how embarrassing it is. I’m not going to judge you, and there’s no one else around to hear you, so go for your life.’
I lift the ball up and prepare to slam it down. The nickname sits on the tip of my tongue, ready to jump out and greet the world. I get a little attack of the nerves as I open my mouth, but somehow it feels right.
‘I’M NOT CHUNKY MONKEY!’
I launch the ball downwards and let out a grunt of effort. When I hear it smack against the floor, it feels like a tiny portion of my rage has gone with it.
‘Well done, Cleo, that was excellent! How did it feel?’ Scott steps towards me and offers his hand for a high-five.
‘Pretty damn good! God, I haven’t said that awful nickname in so long but it felt kind of cool to shout it out like that.’ I can feel an electric energy buzz through me, like pure sunshine’s running through my veins.
‘I take it Chunky Monkey was the nickname you were talking about? The one the bully gave you?’
I nod, feeling my happiness shrink ever so slightly. ‘That’s right. She never liked me, even before I had my accident. She gave me the nickname when she saw me eating a burger and chips one day and when I came back to school two stone heavier, she did everything she could to make it stick.’
Scott puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it an affectionate squeeze. ‘You’re way more than that nickname, Cleo. You’ve said it yourself, you’re not Chunky Monkey. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you ever were. Fancy doing some more ball slams?’
I smile at him. ‘You’re on.’
*
After doing several ball slams and shouting “I’M NOT CHUNKY MONKEY” each time, I sink to the floor in a happy heap.
‘Not bad for your first time,’ Scott says, picking up the slam ball to put it back with the others. ‘How does that nickname feel now?’
‘Not as powerful,’ I admit. ‘It stuck with me for such a long time after I left school, but I don’t think it feels as hurtful any more.’
Scott sticks out a hand and pulls me to my feet. ‘That’s exactly what I want to hear! Nicknames like that only have as much power as you’re willing to give them. As soon as you decide you’re not going to let them hurt you any more, you take the power back for yourself.’
I smile as I watch him pick up some huge boxing pads. ‘You sound like you’re talking from firsthand experience.’
He glances sideways at me and gives a soft chuckle. ‘Let’s just say I had my fair share of unkind nicknames at school too, so I know what it feels like.’
I look at him for a moment. ‘Really? I can’t imagine someone like you having any trouble at school. What did they call you?’
There’s a brief pause before Scott speaks again. ‘I’ll tell you about it later, OK? I’m putting you through your paces, Miss Jones. Now, if you want to pull those gloves on, we’ll do some sparring.’
I pick up the slightly sweaty pair of gloves and strap them on, with a little help from Scott.
‘OK,’ he says when we’re ready to go, ‘you did a great job with those ball slams, so now we’re going to do some jabs, upper-cuts and hooks. I want you to picture the person who bullied you in your head and pretend their face is on the pads as you hit them. If you want, you can make each punch about something they said or did, but you don’t have to. Just focus on the anger you feel towards them and that’ll be enough to start with.’
‘OK,’ I say with a giggle, ‘I think I can do that!’
Scott briefly explains the stance I have to adopt, and the difference between jabs, hooks and upper-cuts. He straps some gloves on to do a quick demonstration of each move then straps on some pads so we can spar properly. After I know what to do, I’m ready for action. I draw my gloved fist back and snap it forward again, hitting the pad as hard as I can. I do it a couple more times, my confidence increasing with each swing.
‘Brilliant!’ Scott praises. ‘We’ll get you in the ring with Mike Tyson in no time!’
‘I wouldn’t last ten seconds with him!’ I say as I take another swing at the pads. My jab is so powerful that Scott sways a little on his feet before managing to steady himself.
‘I don’t know about that,’ he says with a smile. ‘I think you’d hold your own for longer than you’d expect! Wouldn’t like to be Tyson when you’ve finished with him. Let’s start with upper-cuts now, since you’ve got the hang of jabs.’
As I direct my punches upwards instead of forwards, I realise I haven’t heard that nagging voice of doubt since the session started. It occurs to me that Scott might’ve been right: taking power back for myself, instead of giving it to a collection of bad memories, might be the key to leaving those experiences behind.
*
I’m utterly exhausted by the time our sparring session comes to an end. My arms feel like they’re made of lead as I slide the gloves off.
‘I honestly don’t know how I’m going to get back to Silverdale,’ I say as my muscles throb with pain. ‘Or how I’m going to get anywhere from here, really!’
‘I’d offer you a lift home, but I’ve got a client coming in soon and I’ve devised a particularly evil workout routine for her. Squat thrusts, burpees and maybe even Farmer’s Walks with some heavy-ass kettlebells.’ Scott’s eyes light up with an almost macabre delight. ‘Anyway, what did you think of that session? Have fun?’
I get the last of my breath back and pick up my water bottle for a drink, nodding my head in response.
‘God, yeah,’ I eventually manage to say. ‘It was so much fun! Really helped me get some rage out, like you said. I feel pretty damn good too, I must admit.’
‘How about we have another one next week?’ he suggests. ‘You did really well today and I could devise a proper plan for you if you fancy it?’
Normally, anything that would mean spending more time in the gym would send me running in the opposite direction, leaving a Cleo-shaped hole in whatever wall I’ve crashed through. However, this time is different.
‘That sounds good,’ I say. ‘I had a lot of fun, Scott. Thanks for doing this with me. And sorry again about—’
Scott holds one of his huge bear-paw hands up to stop me. ‘It’s over and done with, don’t worry about it. Here, have a high-five for doing so well today.’
Our palms touch and a spark passes between us. All of a sudden, the atmosphere in the room changes. The matey camaraderie vanishes and is replaced with something I can’t quite identify. I’m acutely aware of how ragged my breathing’s become, and the near-irrepressible urge to pull Scott into my arms and kiss him is getting harder and harder to ignore. I can’t remember the last time I wanted to kiss someone so badly.
I clear my throat, hoping to shift some of the tension with it. ‘I’d er… I’d better get going. You’ve got your client coming in a minute.’
Scott opens his mouth to say something, then changes his mind. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’d better go and crack the whip, I guess. Same time next week?’
I nod, trying to regain some of my composure. ‘Sounds good to me!’
There’s a tiny moment where neither of us knows what to do or say, so instead we look at each other, waiting for the other
to make a move either way. I make clumsy gestures towards the door and, luckily, Scott seems to know what I mean. We walk out into the main workout area, stealing glances at one another. I can feel the lingering tension crackling between us; half of me badly wants to pull him into an empty yoga studio to do unspeakable things, and the other half is insanely confused by it all. I’m so used to being the “fat friend” that it’s been ages since I let myself really fancy someone.
‘Ah, here’s my client,’ Scott says, nodding his head towards the doors that lead off to the locker rooms and reception area. ‘I hope she knows what she’s letting herself in for!’
My heart sinks when I see none other than Amanda Best sashaying towards us. Her perfect, cat-like grin is already in place, although her eyes narrow ever so slightly when she sees me.
‘Well, well, isn’t this a small world!’ Her voice goes through me like nails on a chalkboard; I hate how annoyingly false she sounds. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here, Cleo! We seem to be running into each other everywhere, don’t we?’
‘Don’t we just?’ My jaw’s so tight I sound like I have lockjaw. ‘Lovely to see you again, Amanda.’
Her ice-blue eyes flick from Scott to me. The catty little quirk of her top lip makes me dig my nails into my palms. One of her bitchy comments is on its way, I can feel it. But, just like when I saw her at the speed-dating event, I’m going to put her in her place.
‘Have you been in for a personal training session?’ she asks me. ‘Not like you.’
‘I have actually!’ My voice stays just the right side of bright and sunny. ‘Worked up quite a sweat. Enjoy your session; I’ve heard squat thrusts and burpees are coming up for you.’
Seeing Amanda’s face fall makes my day. I flash her and Scott a serene smile, before strutting towards the locker room. I’ve never been able to get the better of Amanda before, and it feels pretty damn good.
Today has confirmed there’s a new Cleo Jones in town. I like her already.
Chapter Fourteen