The Shape of You

by Georgia Beers

  That seemed to give Rebecca a bit of a jolt, but a smile followed, and she held out an arm to indicate the chair next to her desk.

  Spencer sat. “How did you become a fitness instructor? Did you always want to be one?”

  Rebecca seemed to honestly contemplate the question. “No, I wanted to be a physical therapist.”

  Spencer tilted her head from side to side. “Similar field.”

  “Yes, but…” Rebecca gazed off into space as if searching for words. “I got in an accident when I was twenty. A bike accident.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Yeah. I got hit by a car while I was riding. My own fault. I wasn’t paying attention. I broke my femur and fractured my pelvis.”

  Spencer sucked in air through her teeth. “Ow.”

  “You have no idea. It was ironic that I needed physical therapy, given I was studying it. And let me tell you, that PT almost killed me.”

  “Painful?”

  “Left me in tears almost every day. It was awful.” Rebecca’s features had softened, emotion clear on her face. Something Spencer hadn’t seen often. She liked it. It made Rebecca seem more…human. “So I recovered and finished my studies and got a job in PT.”

  Spencer raised her eyebrows. “But?”

  “But I hated causing that kind of pain to other people. I mean, I know it’s part of their recovery, that they need to push through in order to get better. But I think having been the one on that table or balancing on those parallel bars, I had a better sense than my colleagues of just how much pain our patients might be in at any given time. And I just couldn’t do it.” Rebecca swallowed, then cleared her throat, her eyes bright.

  Spencer sensed she hadn’t quite finished and simply waited for her to continue.

  “I had heard several doctors and fellow PTs say the same thing more than once, though: that if this person or that person had been in better shape—stronger, leaner, had more endurance, whatever—their recovery might be quicker or less painful or easier. And that stuck in my head for a good year or two before I decided that was what I wanted.”

  “To help people get stronger.”

  “And thereby healthier, yes.”

  “I like that.” Aware that she was very close to seeing Rebecca in a new light somehow, Spencer smiled softly.

  “My turn,” Rebecca said, propping her chin in her hand and her elbow on the desk. Her blue eyes focused on Spencer, she asked, “Why don’t you want to go home?”

  “Oh, I want to go to my house, but I can’t. Tonight I’m supposed to go to Marti’s house, and…I just don’t want to.” Though startled that she’d answered so honestly, Spencer accepted it. Apparently, this was how she was with Rebecca now. Well, at least for tonight.

  “And Marti is your…?”

  “My fiancée.”

  “Right,” Rebecca said with a nod. “The one who signed you up for this class.”

  “Yes.”

  “Without checking with you first.”

  “Right.”

  “Which was…okay with you? ’Cause I’ve got to tell you, that would have given me a bit of a complex.”

  Spencer swallowed. Rebecca’s tone was gentle enough so that Spencer didn’t feel accused or ridiculed, but they still weren’t words she enjoyed hearing, and she was torn between defending Marti and being outraged by Marti. “Well, I could stand to lose a few pounds. I’ve always been a little chunky.”

  “Spencer.” Was that the first time Rebecca had ever said her name to her? Spencer racked her brain and couldn’t think of another instance. And she was pretty certain she’d remember because of how much she liked the way it sounded rolling off Rebecca’s tongue. “So many things right now.” She chuckled gently. “So many things. Okay, first of all, you are not chunky.”

  “I need some toning.”

  “As do most people. Fine. I’ll let you have that, so long as we can agree you are not chunky.”

  Spencer nodded her consent.

  “Two, while I am never going to downplay the importance of physical fitness—for everybody—I need you to help me understand how it’s okay with you that Marti did what she did.” Leaning in a bit closer, she added, “Marti is a she, right?”

  Spencer grinned. “Yes. Marti is a she.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  “Good? Why is that good?” Spencer held Rebecca’s gaze, her head cocked slightly, her tone definitely flirty, which she hadn’t intended. Had she?

  Rebecca poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “It’s good because…” Then she seemed to think better of her answer and shook her head, waved her hands in surrender. “Nope. Not going there.” But her face was open and her words came with a background of gentle laughter.

  Spencer’s turn to prop her chin in her hand, recalled the lunch date that hadn’t showed for Rebecca. The female lunch date. “So, it seems that we play on the same team.”

  “Seems so.”

  “Interesting.”

  Spencer felt tethered to Rebecca in that moment. Tethered to her and safe with her, and she let herself simply sit with that. Rebecca seemed to as well, because they stayed that way for what felt like a long time…Rebecca sitting back in her chair and looking at Spencer, Spencer gazing back at her, chin in hand.

  Something between them shifted right then. Spencer felt it as significantly as if some part of her world moved and clicked audibly, like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

  Things will never be the same.

  The thought ricocheted through Spencer’s head, loudly and out of nowhere and so, so weird, startling her enough to make her flinch out of her reverie and sit up straight. What the hell was that? And what the hell was she doing? “I need to be going,” she said suddenly, very aware of how weak her voice sounded.

  Rebecca must have thought so, too, as her brow furrowed. “Oh. Okay.”

  Spencer stood so quickly, the chair toppled over behind her and she muttered, “Son of a biscuit.”

  “And yet another creative replacement for a curse word,” Rebecca said, the amusement in her tone helping to alleviate a bit of what Spencer could only classify as the disappointment on her face.

  “Yeah, I hardly ever swear.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Rebecca’s half grin was almost too much for Spencer at this point. She had to get out of there, away from Rebecca, back to Marti where she was expected, where she was supposed to be.

  “Okay, so, Friday then.”

  “Friday.” Rebecca gave one nod, and that was the last of her Spencer saw because she needed to leave. Needed to.

  She did her best not to actually flee Rebecca’s presence, but she felt like she should be doing just that. The disillusionment and shame in herself, combined with the guilt—God, so much guilt!—flooded her system until she worried she might throw up right in the parking lot next to her car. She stood there, hand on the roof, braced for impending vomit, for several breaths before the feeling subsided. Without looking back at the building, she got in her car, started it, and pulled away. Too fast and too recklessly, but nobody else was around, thank goodness.

  Marti’s car was, surprisingly, in the driveway. Spencer parked next to it, gathered her things, and hurried in. Marti was in the kitchen, holding the refrigerator door open as she peered in. With a glance up at Spencer, she said, “Hey, babe.”

  Spencer dropped her stuff, walked up to Marti, and burrowed into her. Wrapped her arms around her, snuggled her head under Marti’s chin, held tight.

  “Wow,” Marti said, her chuckle rumbling through her; Spencer could feel it. “This is a nice surprise. You okay?”

  Spencer felt a tender kiss pressed to the top of her head, and even as her eyes welled up and she squeezed them closed, Spencer couldn’t understand. This was her spot. This was where she was supposed to be. Safe and loved, enveloped in Marti’s arms. Right? Wasn’t it?

  So how come the only thought in her head was that she wished it was Rebecca instead?

  * * *


  Rebecca had been discreet about it, but she’d watched out a window as Spencer practically sprinted from the gym. Then she’d stood at her car, one hand on it, seeming to keep her upright as she swayed slightly. Rebecca was tempted to follow her out there, to make sure she was okay, but something kept her feet rooted to the floor where she stood.

  “Nothing wrong with looking,” Zoe had said the other night as they’d shot some pool. “Nothing even wrong with touching if it’s part of your job.”

  “You think?” Rebecca had been skeptical.

  “Sure. I mean, you’re not trying to seduce her, right? You said she’s engaged. So, you do have boundaries.” Zoe sank a solid orange ball, which was Rebecca’s. “Damn it. As long as you keep them in your sights, I say take advantage. It’s fun to be close to somebody you find attractive.”

  Rebecca lined up a shot. “Okay. That makes sense, I think.”

  “And for the love of all that’s holy, stay off her girlfriend’s Facebook page. That’ll just make you crazy.”

  “That also makes sense,” Rebecca had agreed, with a self-deprecating grimace.

  She’d replayed that conversation a few times in her head, and when Spencer had arrived, standing at the front desk with Lucy, looking all fresh and pretty, Rebecca had decided to take Zoe’s advice for a spin. Why not?

  Rebecca was careful. She didn’t go overboard. There’d been no unnecessary touching, only when Spencer needed help with her form. But Rebecca’s fingers had tingled every single time, and now, after Spencer’s hasty departure, she wasn’t sure what to do with that. Instead of feeling satisfied, she was more confused than ever, and that made her a little bit…irritated. With Zoe. With Spencer. But mostly with herself.

  Maybe Nick was rubbing off on her, making her think it was fine to touch a woman just because she found her sexy. In the next breath, she shook her head at her own gross overgeneralization about men. Nick would never do such a thing, and that made Rebecca feel even worse.

  She watched out the window as Spencer stood up and dropped her head back as if looking to the sky for some kind of answer, her long, elegant throat a feast for Rebecca’s eyes. Then she got in her car and drove away a bit faster than was safe, in Rebecca’s opinion.

  Rebecca stood there long after Spencer was out of sight, her thoughts racing through her head like cars around a Nascar track. This had never happened to her before. Sure, she’d been attracted to lots of women in her life. She’d even been attracted to more than one client. But she’d never reached this level of…What was it? Frustrated desire? Unwelcome arousal? She’d had her reservations about Spencer from the beginning, and realized now that Spencer had never actually answered the question Rebecca had posed: why it was okay that Marti had signed her up, had basically told her she needed to get in better shape. Instead, she’d redirected the conversation and…

  Rebecca’s brain tossed her the image of Spencer’s face, her chin in her hand, her cheeks still flushed from her workout, her eyes sparkling and giving Rebecca such intensely direct eye contact that she felt it in the pit of her stomach. And lower.

  A breath of frustration pushed itself from her body, and Rebecca gave her head a hard shake. “All right,” she said aloud. “Enough already. This has to stop. Enough.”

  She had all day tomorrow and most of Friday to get her shit together before she saw Spencer again. That should be more than enough time.

  Chapter Twelve

  By Friday, Rebecca was back to being the standoffish, made-of-stone fitness instructor Spencer had met on the first day, and she was both disappointed and relieved by that. Their bride class workout was tough. Spencer had learned quickly that her least favorite line of Rebecca’s was “We’re gonna burn some calories today,” as that meant it would be nearly an hour of cardio. Spencer’s least favorite exercise. At least with spin class, she could picture being on a country road or pedaling up a gorgeous hillside. On the stupid elliptical and variations of it, she just felt annoyed.

  After forty-five minutes of climbing to nowhere, raising and lowering resistance, sprinting and climbing steadily, Rebecca pulled them off and brought them downstairs to the floor area. Spencer knew what was coming.

  “All right.” Rebecca strolled in front of them, avoiding even the slightest glance at Spencer, which was how it had been the entire time.

  We’re back to this again.

  “Plank positions. Sixty seconds. Some of you can do it and have, others are getting close but need to work harder.”

  Spencer wrinkled her nose at the stress on the last two words, as she knew they were directed at her. She and Lucy were the only two who hadn’t made it the full sixty seconds yet, but Spencer could feel Rebecca’s gaze. That’s what she did: looked at Spencer when Spencer wasn’t looking. And Spencer could feel it. Every time. It unnerved her.

  And she was dreading this. Her emotions had been running very close to the surface for the past two days, her brain swirling with a confused jumble of thoughts, her body PMSing in a big way, the combination ready to make her scream in anger or burst into tears—or both—at any moment.

  I could just leave. I mean, I pay for the class. It’s not like I have to stay here.

  But that would be…noticeable. She didn’t want that. Rather, she wanted to sink down and blend right into the floor so nobody would see her. With a quiet sigh, she got into position.

  “And go.” Rebecca’s voice was strong, and despite her cool demeanor, she looked absolutely edible to Spencer, who’d tried hard not to notice and who’d also failed spectacularly. Rebecca wore shorts today, mesh athletic shorts that Spencer immediately loved for no other reason than they left her legs bare. Spencer’s eyes had roamed over them like fingers; God, they were beautiful. Shapely, lean but strong, astonishingly feminine. Spencer swallowed hard as her arms predictably began to tremble after a mere twenty seconds. Rebecca’s dark hair seemed extra shiny today, and every time she tucked it behind her ears, Spencer’s attention was pulled to her hands, her wrists, her bare arms.

  Stop it!

  Spencer swallowed down her exasperation with herself, tried to erase the image of Sexy Rebecca from her head.

  Which Rebecca then made impossible when her black-and-pink Nikes stepped into Spencer’s view and stayed there.

  “You’re halfway there,” she announced to the group.

  Next to Spencer, Lucy groaned.

  Spencer squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her body weaken by the second. God, how she hated these planks.

  Rebecca’s feet didn’t move. She was going to stand there until Spencer dropped. Spencer was sure of it.

  “Twenty seconds to go,” Rebecca said.

  Spencer lasted another three before collapsing.

  “No,” Rebecca said, and suddenly, her face was next to Spencer’s. “Get up. Get up. You have fifteen more seconds to go.” Her voice wasn’t gentle. Or encouraging. It was almost angry, as if Spencer was purposely failing at this task.

  Spencer turned to look at her and their eye contact was so intense, Spencer was sure she could reach out and touch it somehow, run her fingertip along the invisible line that connected them.

  “Get up,” Rebecca said again.

  Spencer felt her own nostrils flare as aggravated resentment battled with sheer frustration, even as she pushed herself back up into position and held it for the remaining time.

  The timer went off and all five women dropped to the floor with agonized groans and gentle laughter. Spencer stayed with her forehead pressed to the floor, mortified to feel tears well up in her eyes as Rebecca dismissed them and told them to have a nice weekend.

  “You okay?” Lucy said, and Spencer could feel her getting to her feet.

  Spencer nodded, but stayed face down.

  “Want me to wait for you?”

  Spencer knew she would, even though she also knew Lucy had friends to meet in twenty minutes. “No, no. I’m good. Thank you, though.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Spencer
felt Lucy’s hand on her head, a gesture of concerned friendship that only created more wetness in Spencer’s eyes. “I’m sure,” she said, not looking up. “Have fun tonight.”

  She lay there for another minute, then pushed herself to a sitting position and just…breathed. Her head was still a jumbled mess. Had been since Wednesday night and her ill-advised flirtation moment with Rebecca. God, she couldn’t get it out of her mind…Rebecca’s playful grin, the sparkle in those blue eyes that had looked so deeply disappointed in her tonight. She’d barely eaten. She’d hardly slept. Marti had gotten so annoyed with her tossing and turning last night, it was a relief to know she had a client dinner this evening and Spencer could go home to her own house—the only place she felt like herself anymore, not like she was pretending to be someone else.

  A deep, loud rumble came from Spencer’s stomach and she realized she’d eaten nothing since breakfast, so she slowly climbed to her feet and headed toward the smoothie bar.

  A young man of college age was working that evening, his hair blond with fun streaks of electric blue. He greeted her with a smile and asked what he could do for her. She put in her order and he went to work. In a short time, she had a large cup of pale pink smoothie in her hand and took a sip through the thick, green straw. It was going to hit the spot.

  “Thank God, something good out of this day,” she muttered as she turned and headed for the locker room downstairs. At the bottom of the steps, she glanced to her left to pinpoint the strange noise she heard as somebody pushed a cart in the opposite direction. She swiveled her gaze forward just as she turned the corner.

  And ran smack into Rebecca McCall.

  Strawberry banana smoothie went all over the floor, all over the wall, and all over Spencer, its chilly temperature causing her to suck in her breath even as a loud “Son of a bitch” came from Rebecca.