by Cassie Cole
I looked at myself in the mirror. I was far from fashionable, and I wasn’t super excited about how I looked, but that was kind of the point. The gym was where people went to improve themselves.
Putting on the wrist monitor made it feel legitimate. I tightened it just as Finn had showed me, snug but not too tight. This was really happening.
A frigid wind cut through my jacket as soon as I stepped outside. My apartment was two blocks from Magnolia Street. Just close enough where I felt obligated to walk, but far enough away that I was freezing by the time I arrived. The warm air of the gym was a welcome relief as soon as I walked into the lobby.
The same cheerful girl as yesterday beamed at me from behind the desk. “Happy New Year! Good to see you again!”
I smiled politely and scanned my wrist monitor at the kiosk. Despite the early hour on New Year’s Day, the gym was more crowded now than it was yesterday. It looked like the New Year’s rush was a real thing.
I realized that I didn’t really have a plan. I’d been too focused on forcing myself to get to the gym to begin thinking about what to do once I arrived. The treadmills were the closest machines, so I impulsively decided that’s where I would begin. I grabbed a hand-towel from the nearest stack and stepped onto a machine at the end of the row. When I scanned my wrist monitor, the treadmill made a happy-sounding noise.
“We’ll start off easy,” I muttered to myself. “Just a walk to warm up.” After that, I would do an easy 5K run. Surely I could still do that. I set the speed to three, and the belt underneath my feet began moving.
I gazed around the gym while I walked. Yesterday, everyone had looked so fit and muscular. It was intimidating. Today felt different. There were a lot more regular looking people on the machines. The guy on the treadmill in front of me was overweight and covered with sweat, but the timer on his treadmill showed that he’d been at it non-stop for forty minutes. The woman on the elliptical two rows up was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.
All of it made me feel more welcome. Like I wouldn’t stand out as someone who wasn’t athletic anymore.
After five minutes of walking, I was feeling pretty good. I cranked up the speed to six. That pace was ten minutes a mile. Back in my cross-country days, that would have been insanely easy.
For the first minute, it was easy. My heart rate increased and I glided over the treadmill like I was running on clouds. I focused on my form, pumping my arms at my side and keeping my back straight.
It quickly grew tougher. Sweat appeared on my face and neck. I could tell I weighed more than I used to. My feet felt like they were made of cement, pounding on the treadmill heavily with each step. I became self-conscious about how much the treadmill was rocking from my weight.
I bet everyone is looking at me, I thought. But as I looked around, nobody seemed to notice. Everyone was doing their own thing.
On the television screen, the scoreboard was scrolling through the list of people working out. The scores were much lower since the new quarter had begun today. First it showed an overall list, then a breakdown by age bracket. Men and women were in the same groupings. I perked up when the twenty-five to twenty-nine age group appeared:
25-29 AGE GROUP
BRODY F:_____101
MARCIA J:_____29
JAMES P:______21
KATHERINE D: 12
I smiled to see myself in the top four already, though obviously it was because it was early in the morning on the first day of the year. Brody F was the guy who had won overall last quarter, I remembered. Already getting a head start on the new year.
I thumped along on the treadmill and made it to one mile. I could barely breathe, so I turned the speed back down to walk. From that point on I tried alternating running and walking. Run for one minute, walk for one minute. Soon that turned into running for one minute, and walking for two minutes.
But I was still doing it. I had to start somewhere.
I tried to zone out while exercising. I thought about the store, and how business was doing better than ever. Once we started selling audiobooks our revenue streams would increase even more. I thought about the smoothie I was going to get when I finished this run. I thought about how lucky I was to have a supportive big brother like Darryl.
I also thought about what my nephew had said on Christmas: “Aunt Kat, when are you going to have kids?”
Dating was never high on my list of priorities. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Back in college I dated lots of guys. I had a sex drive like… well, like a college student. And it helped that I was fit and attractive back then. There were plenty of other athletes in my running group to pick up.
When my parents died, everything sort of fell off my radar. I stopped working out, and I stopped dating. When I finally started seeing a therapist and got out of that funk, I poured all of my time and energy into the record store. Yeah, I signed up for some of the online dating services over the years, but nothing ever seemed to pan out.
I wanted a relationship, and eventually a family of my own. But it seemed like a long way off at this point. Ethan and Nathan would have to wait a while before they had little cousins to play with.
The treadmill beeped when I reached the goal I had set: three-point-one miles. A 5K. I’d done it! Back in the day, a 5K was our warm-up before the actual run. Never in a million years did I think it would be impressive.
But today, it felt like a tremendous victory.
I set the speed to a slow walk for a cool-down. My legs ached terribly, and my knee and ankle joints felt like someone had been banging away with a hammer.
“Katherine!” called a smooth, deep voice.
A tingle ran up my spine at the sound.
5
Katherine
I turned to see Finn approaching my treadmill. He was every bit as sexy as yesterday—like a walking, talking marble statue of perfectly-chiseled muscle. His Rocky Mountain Fitness tank top looked like it was painted onto his muscular chest.
“Glad to see you here early!” he said. “I always peek at the check-in logs when I first arrive, and I was pleased to see your name.”
“It’s just like you said: new year, new beginning,” I said. “Just finished a 5K.”
“Awesome!” He stuck out his palm for a high-five. It was like smacking a cinder block. “How do you feel?”
“I feel good,” I lied.
“Nice. Let’s do some stretching while your body’s warm.”
Stretching. I pictured Finn laying me on my back and then lifting my leg in the air, pushing on it to stretch it out while covering me with his body. But to my relief—and slight disappointment—he led me into the weight-lifting room, where we sat in the corner and did some stretches across from one-another. First extending both legs out and trying to touch our toes, then folding our legs together for a butterfly stretch.
“We didn’t talk about it during your tour, but I need to know your goals,” he said.
“Goals?”
Finn nodded. “Most people who come to the gym fall into three categories. They’re training for an event, like a running race. They’re trying to lose weight. Or they’re trying to get healthier overall.”
“Um, the last two,” I said. “Getting healthier is good. But I’d… Like to lose a little bit of weight, too.”
I cringed at saying this to a guy as built—and as sexy—as Finn, but he only nodded. “Perfect. How often do you think you can commit to coming to the gym?”
Realistically, I still doubted I could find the time to come to the gym even once per week. But I felt a primal need to impress Finn, so I said, “Three times a week, at least.”
“Very good. You mentioned you were on the cross-country team. Do you prefer cardio over resistance exercises?”
“I guess so. If I want to lose weight, cardio is my best bet, right?”
Finn shook his head. “Cardio is great and all, but weight-lifting is even better for losing weight.”
I gave a start. “Really?”
“PPL?”
“Push, pull, legs,” he explained. “One day is all pushing exercises. Then all pulling exercises. Then all leg exercises. The really hardcore guys do it six times a week, but three times a week is plenty for a novice. I think you’d do really well with that routine, Katherine.”
His eyes were bright and full of enthusiasm. He thinks I’d do really well with it. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother…”
Finn’s laughter was a deep, rich sound. “Not a bother at all! Remember, you get a hundred hours included with your platinum membership.”
“Alright, I guess,” I said.
“Awesome! Let’s go get started.”
I followed Finn over to an open bench press station. There was one other woman in the room, so I wasn’t the only one, but I still felt out of place surrounded by a bunch of big guys pumping iron.
Finn patted the bar. “Let’s start off with bench press. The king of all push movements.” He laid himself flat on the bench and wrapped his fingers around the empty bar. “Grip the bar like so, with your hands shoulder-width apart. Spread your legs, with your feet flat on the ground. Arch your back slightly. Then remove the bar from the rack. Lower it to your chest smoothly. Pause at the bottom—no bouncing allowed. That’s cheating. Then engage your back muscles while pushing the bar vertically.”
He demonstrated the entire maneuver. For a guy his size, the forty-five-pound barbell looked like it weighed as much as a toothpick. Even so, the muscles in his arms flexed wonderfully as he completed the bench press. I could have watched him do that all day, but he racked the weight and hopped up.
“Now you try.”
I laid flat on the bench, which was still warm from his body. I slid down until the bar was above my face. I gripped it with both hands, then slid it off the rack so that I was holding the bar in the air. Then I lowered it to my chest slowly, paused with the cold metal against my shirt, and then pushed it back up.
“Very nice,” Finn said enthusiastically. “Have you done this before?”
“We did some cross-training with weights in high school,” I admitted. “But that was a long time ago.”
Finn narrowed his eyes at me playfully. “Hey now, you and I are the same age. Don’t go making me feel old.”
I laughed. “Sorry! I guess it feels longer than it really is.”
“Let’s rack a little bit of weight on there. We’ll start you off at sixty-five pounds.” He retrieved a pair of ten-pound plates from a nearby stack, and put one on each side. As soon as he did, the bench rack beeped and a small screen built into the side flashed: 65.
“There’s a scale built into the rack, so it knows how much you’re lifting. Plus an accelerometer to tell what exercise you’re doing, and how many reps you complete. Now just tap your wrist monitor to the sensor…”
I obeyed, and the rack made a happy-sounding beep, just like the treadmill had.
“Now you’re all ready to go. I want you to do three sets, eight reps each.”
Finn watched as I completed eight bench press reps in a row. I took a short break in between each set. The first was rather easy, but by the third one I was feeling the strain in my arms.
“We’ll increase the weight each week,” Finn explained as he removed the plates from the bar. “That’s called linear progression. It’s great for gains, especially in a novice. Next we’ll do close-grip bench…”
We spent an hour going through the exercises. Close-grip bench press was just as it sounded: bench press, but with my hands close together on the bar instead of shoulder-width apart. After that came incline press, then we switched to dumbbells for triceps extensions and lateral raises.
For the last exercise, overhead press, we went to one of the squat racks. Finn demonstrated standing in the rack and holding the bar in front of him, then pushing it straight up in the air.
“This one is tough, especially for women, so your working set will just be the bar,” he explained.
I made a face at him. “Hey now. Why’s it especially tough for women?”
Finn reached out with two fingers and pressed them into my shoulder. It felt like electricity crossed our bodies where the skin touched. “Women tend to have smaller deltoid and trapezius muscles. Those are the ones in your shoulder and upper back.” He smiled disarmingly. “Not being sexist. It’s just how it is. On the other end of things, women are really good at building their quads and calves.”
I chuckled. “Bigger thighs, just what every woman wants.”
Finn grinned. “Life sucks sometimes. Alright, give me three sets of eight with just the bar.”
I mimicked what he had just shown me. While standing, I took the bar off the rack and rested it on my clavicle. Then I pushed it vertically into the air. It was indeed a difficult exercise; getting it past my face and above my head took a lot of focus and effort.
“That was good, but you’re rocking back and forth a little too much,” Finn explained. “Keep going while I stabilize you.”
As I lowered the bar, Finn put one hand on my hip and the other on my upper back. He was gentle, but firm in a way that made me aware of how my body rocked as I pushed the bar. His touch was completely innocent… But it still made my entire body shiver. He was so close to me I could smell his masculine scent, and feel the heat coming off his body.
It was tough not to be turned on by this hulking, gorgeous specimen of a man.
All in all, we lifted weights for a full hour. He recorded all of my sets on a tablet, including notes on how easily I completed them. “I’ll send this spreadsheet to you, so you can monitor your progress. It’s motivating seeing the numbers climb week after week! How do you feel?”
I shook out my arms. “I feel pretty good. Like I could’ve done more.”
“You’ll be sore tomorrow,” Finn promised. “And the day after. Let’s grab a smoothie.”
I grinned. “I’ve been thinking about another strawberry-banana smoothie since I arrived.”
As we walked upstairs, I glanced at the scoreboard on the wall.
25-29 AGE GROUP
BRODY F:_____112
KATHERINE D: 85
MARCIA J:_____29
JAMES P:______27
“Check it out. You’re in second place!”
“Wow, weight-lifting really boosts your score, huh?”
“You know it. Weights are great for your goal of losing weight, too. For the next twenty-four hours, your muscles keep burning energy. It’s called your post-exercise oxygen consumption. Burning calories while sitting on your ass. Hey, Brody!” Finn said as we approached the Nutrition Bar. “You’ve got some new competition for your age bracket!”
The man sitting at the high-table was fiddling with a small tablet device, but he put it down when Finn greeted him. He had short blond hair, and piercing blue eyes. His workout clothes were damp with sweat, but they fit him as flawlessly as if they were tailored, revealing an extremely fit body.
Brody grinned at Finn, then at me. “I could use some competition. I won last quarter by a thousand points.” He had a quiet intensity about him that was instantly captivating. A man of few words, because he didn’t need to say a lot.
“Hell yeah, buddy. You crushed it.” Finn slapped him on the back in passing. “And you’re starting off strong for this quarter. What’ve you done so far?”
“Sixteen hundred in the pool, then a two-hour cool-down on the bike.”
I snickered as if he was joking, but he frowned at me. “Wait, are you serious? Two hours on the bike is your cool-down?”
“Well, it was an easy two hours. Nowhere near my aerobic target.”
“Brody’s training for a triathlon,” Finn explained while blending my smoothie.
“Seriously? That’s intense.”
Brody shrugged. “Yeah, it’s a lot. But I love it.”
I extended my hand. “I’m Katherine Delaney.”
“Brody Forrester. You a new member?”
“Is it that obvious I’m a noob?”
Brody blushed. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just haven’t seen you around.”
“Katherine is one of our platinum members,” Finn chimed in. “She’s legit.”
“Oh wow. Platinum. I really do have some competition, don’t I?”
I smiled and looked away. It would have been easy to explain that my brother bought me the membership, but it felt good to have Brody looking at me the way he was looking. Like he was impressed by me.
Finn handed me the smoothie. “Want to do some recovery? Try out a massage, or the cryogenic boots?”
I glanced at Brody. “Those inflatable boot things aren’t just a joke? Because they feel like a practical joke for gullible new members.”
“They really work. Honest.”
I was tempted, but shook my head. “I’ve got too much work to do.”
“Oh New Year’s Day? Your boss must suck.”
I grinned and queued up one of my favorite jokes. “My boss is definitely a bitch… because I’m my own boss. I have my own business.”
“Hah! Nice,” Finn said.
“Maybe next time,” I added. “Don’t want to overdo it on the first day.”
“Good call. See you tomorrow.” Finn raised his palm for a high-five, which I happily returned. It felt like having a workout buddy, not just an informal personal trainer.
“Nice to meet you, Brody.”
His blond hair swayed as he nodded. “Pleasure meeting you too. Hope you crush the rest of the quarter.”
I left the gym feeling awfully good about myself.
6