by Amity Cross
“Are you going for the punching bag again?”
I nodded.
“You don’t want to try something else?”
I shook my head no. “It’s familiar, I guess.” I took a step away from him.
“Hey, have you tried the sled before?” he asked, fishing for more conversation.
“No.” I looked across the gym at the open expanse where I’d seen him yelling at his clients as they pushed weights back and forth. “I don’t think…”
“It helps with your lower body muscles. Quads, hamstrings, glutes, and core. Upper body strength is great and all, but you don’t want to get top-heavy.”
I snorted. “I bet you don’t say that to all the girls.”
“No, because that would be sexual harassment.”
I raised my eyebrows, annoyance flaring. What a fucking hypocrite. He sure didn’t mind it when busty blondes got all up in his personal space and dry humped against it.
“What?” Lawson demanded. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“All judgmental.”
“So it’s okay for clients to get hands-on with you?” I shot at him. “That makes it okay?”
His lip curled. “Well, haven’t you got a feather up your arse.”
“I knew the nice guy act was just that. An act.”
“Settle down,” he said, raking his hand through his hair. “You sound jealous.”
“It’s irritating,” I fired back, covering the direct hit with a half-truth. “It’s not a good look for the gym when the staff gets,”—I waved my hands around—“hands-on.”
“Come here.” Lawson rolled his eyes but neither confirmed nor denied.
I shrank back. “Come where?”
“Come and push this fucking sled.” He turned his back and strode over to the mats.
I followed him to the back of the gym and tossed my stuff onto the bench as he set up the sled. He selected a few weights and placed them on the rig before gesturing me to take hold of the handles.
“Down and back,” he commanded. “See how it feels.”
I had to lower myself quite a bit to get into the right position, and as I pushed, I was well aware my arse was sticking up in the air. Old feelings of self-consciousness came back to haunt me, and I shoved them away.
“She’s someone from my past,” Lawson said as I pushed the sled.
“Good for you,” I said, hissing as my legs burned. From his past? That didn’t sound ominous at all. Usually, people said shit like ‘she’s an old friend.’
“That’s why—”
“Shut up.”
He chuckled as I turned and pushed the sled back the other way.
“We’re not a thing,” he added as I came back.
“Maybe you should tell her that,” I replied, focusing on what I was doing. Anything to not have to look him in the eye. “It’s rude to lead someone on when there’s no hope.”
“Sounds like you have experience.”
“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”
He laughed again and stepped back as I pushed the sled away from him, giving him a direct line of sight to my arse.
“Good,” he said, turning on his trainer mode. “You’re quick on your feet. This time, work it faster.” He clapped his hands together, and as I pushed, he shouted, “Go, go, go!”
I did two more repetitions before he called time. Straightening up, I was a quivering mess, and for the first time, it had more to do with the workout than Lawson’s proximity.
I put my hands on my hips and walked it out, sucking in deep breaths. My lungs and legs burned, but I suppose that was how I knew it was working. Damn, he was right about the top-heavy thing, and I was the one who’d used it as a trigger to berate him for things that were none of my business. Ugh, why did I have to be such a freak?
“You’re good at the sled,” Lawson said. “Once it gets easier and your time lowers, you can add a little more weight.”
I nodded and watched him return the sled and remove the weights. I noted he’d said you and not we in that last statement. I was still far from understanding our dynamic. The guy who was always booked out and had a waiting list clamouring to get five seconds with him was sticking around after hours and training me for free. I pursed my lips and quieted the little devil on my shoulder who was whispering, It’s because he likes you. It’s what you want, isn’t it?
Lawson looked over his shoulder and frowned. “What?”
Realising I was glaring and staring, I shook my head. “Nothing.”
He gave me a look and then sat on the bench, his shoulders slumping. “Here. Sit with me.”
I glanced at the bench like it would rear up and bite me on the arse. Lawson chuckled softly and patted the space next to him.
“I’m not going to bite, you know.” He raised an eyebrow. By now, I figured it was his trademark quirk.
With an exasperated sigh, I sat beside him, aware of his proximity more than ever. An inch separated our bare legs, and I stared at his thigh. His legs were built like two bloody tree trunks.
“Tell me something about yourself.”
“Why?” I blurted, startled by his question.
“Don’t sound so thrilled, Amber.”
The sound of my name on his tongue made me shiver, and I reached for my hoodie. Pulling it on, I buried my hands in the sleeves.
“I don’t know what to tell you. I’m pretty boring.”
“No, you’re not,” he retorted. “No one’s boring, not really.”
“How do you know?”
“I haven’t met a snooze fest yet, and I meet a lot of people.” He smiled at me, and I began to melt around the edges, but the devil was still there.
“I, uh,” I began, my voice wavering.
“You don’t talk about yourself much, do you?”
“No. I just… I don’t think I’m that interesting.”
“Okay.” He glanced around the gym, but we were alone for the most part. A few people were running on the treadmills, and there were a couple more on the bikes and other machines. Maybe a dozen at the most. In the far corner, we were isolated in our own little bubble.
“What’s your favourite colour?” he asked.
I blinked, thrown off-centre by his unexpected question. “Uh, I don’t really have one.”
“You don’t have a favourite colour?” he scoffed and shook his head. “Everyone has a colour they at least prefer. Okay, so what colour do you hate?”
“Pink.”
He laughed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I used to know someone who hated pink so much it was like this running joke.”
“Really? Who?”
Lawson hesitated, then his smile faded. “Uh… So how old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
I looked him over, my confidence growing as we settled into the conversation. I wouldn’t have guessed twenty-nine. Lawson had one of those faces that were impossible to guess his age. Sometimes, he looked boyish while other times he looked older and a little wiser like he’d been through something that had marked him.
“Simon says you train a lot of fighters,” I said.
“Yeah. MMA and a little boxing. With those guys, a lot of it is about maintaining weight and muscle mass.”
“You seem to know a lot about it.”
“I used to compete,” he said.
“Why did you stop?”
He shrugged, signalling he didn’t want to talk about it.
“So you’ve been a personal trainer for how long?”
“Two years.”
So he’d had a career change at twenty-seven. I wondered what he was doing before and what triggered the sea change. Not everyone was like me, so it could be anything.
“You’ve done pretty well, then.”
“Yeah, so what about you? What were you doing before Simon hired
you?”
“I moved around a lot,” I replied, not knowing how else to explain my nomadic life without making it sound pathetic. “I was working in an office in St. Kilda. It’s much better here. I don’t have to wear a pants suit.”
“I can’t imagine you wearing that corporate shit,” he said with a grin. “Except your first day.”
I grunted and rolled my eyes. “You were a real arsehole.”
“Yeah.” He raked his hand through his hair, mussing it up.
I sighed and studied the zipper on my hoodie.
“What?”
“I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“I’m twenty-eight. I thought I’d have it together by now.”
Lawson wrung his hands together. “There’s no handbook for this stuff. There aren’t any ‘shoulds’ in life. Twenty-eight is nothing.”
“Yeah. I wish I’d understood that a long time ago.”
The conversation lulled, and we sat together in silence. It didn’t feel awkward, and I didn’t feel the need to search for inane topics to fill the gaps. It was nice to sit and just…be.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Lawson asked after a moment.
I shook my head. “I suppose not.”
He rose to his feet and sucked in a deep breath. “You still sound unsure.”
I looked up at him and shrugged. “It takes time to rewire a lifetime of broken.”
“You’re not broken,” he said firmly. “You’re just a little bent, is all.”
“And that’s better?”
“Amber”—he sighed and held out his hand—“just because you’re bent, doesn’t mean you’re broken.”
I stared at his outstretched hand and knew if I touched him, I wouldn’t be able to stop my feelings from bursting through the mental dam I’d built to stop shit like this from flooding my life. Maybe Montana was right. Maybe this time…
Living life meant both happiness and pain. To move forward, I had to risk it all. I might crash and burn, but what if Lawson and I… What if… Fuck, I couldn’t even think the words. Just go for it, Amber.
I wrapped my hand around Lawson’s wrist, and he did the same. Pulling me up, he tugged a little too hard, and I fell against his chest. My palm came to rest on his pec, and our noses brushed. Totally within kissing distance, the devil taunted me.
Lawson seemed to freeze, his hazel eyes boring into mine.
I was in his arms, completely by accident, but my entire body zapped with electricity, and my heart went into overdrive, slamming into the wall of my chest cavity. I’d never felt anything like it. Not even with any of those other guys who’d used my obsession with finding love as an easy way into my vagina.
Then he blinked, let go of my wrist, and stepped back. The spell was broken, and the sounds of the gym filtered back into reality. I hadn’t even realised the rest of the world had fallen away because I was so engrossed in his… Well, his everything.
I could see he was pulling back, the door to his heart and mind closing once more, and I wanted to shove my foot in the crack and pry him open. I wanted to talk to him again, I wanted him to lurk after hours and help me train, and next time, I wanted to ask him what his favourite colour was.
Desperate, I threw out a reckless proposition. “You were a fighter, you say?”
“Yeah.” His shoulders were tense.
“Will you teach me?”
His expression faded, and after a second, it slammed closed. “I can’t.”
“Lawson…”
“You should ask Simon. He was a pro boxer you know.”
I stared at him, stunned at his abrupt change in demeanour. What did I say?
He looked out over the gym and sniffed, rubbing the back of his hand across his forehead. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you around.”
And with that, he walked away, leaving me standing in the middle of the Phoenix like the lump I was. I’d taken a chance and crashed and burned.
Hell, at least I’d tried, right?
Right?
9
Amber
I was pining big time.
Watching Lawson train the blonde for the third time this week, the woman he said he wasn’t dating, I sighed. I wanted that. The ease of conversation, the ease of touching.
I wanted Lawson.
The realisation slammed into me, and I bit my bottom lip. I’d fallen headfirst into a nest of vipers without even trying. Hopeless.
Turning back to the merchandise desk, I pulled out a stack of men’s T-shirts and began counting. I’d streamlined just about everything else in the building, and now it was onto the merch. Simon was seriously losing money by having so many variations of the same design.
I knew I was attracted to Lawson, he was the complete package, but the more was a new development. It was the more part I’d craved all along, but it’d always eluded me. I’d been triggered big time.
I was folding a stack of size mediums when I felt someone staring at me. My spine tingled, and I looked up, hoping to see Lawson leaning against the counter, but I tensed when I saw the blonde, and she didn’t look happy.
Up close, she was even more perfect. Her skin was flawless, mainly due to the fact she was wearing a full face of makeup complete with fake lashes, her hair was silvery ash, and her figure was to die for. All bust and itty-bitty waist. Blue eyes glared at me, cold as an iceberg come to sink me to the bottom of the ocean.
“I see you looking at him,” she said, her voice cold.
“Excuse me?”
Immediately, I began to tremble, and my gut twisted.
“Lawson is mine,” she snarled. “I don’t appreciate you staring at him like some lovesick little girl. It’s pathetic.”
Once upon a time, I would’ve squeaked an apology, then ran into the bathroom and cried, but the sight of her—whatever her name was—had my vision turning red.
I raked my gaze over her and lingered on her breasts. Raising my eyebrows, I made a face and said, “Okay.”
Her mouth fell open. “Ugh. Who do you think you are?”
“I work here,” I replied. “If you have an issue with your membership, I can assist you with it, anything else… I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”
“Bitch,” she spat.
“No, it’s Amber,” I said, pointing at myself.
“Ugh, you’re a real piece of work.”
I was thinking the same thing about you, I thought. Luckily, I didn’t vocalise it because I was sure she would launch herself at me, and there would be a catfight in two seconds flat.
“Maybe you should have more faith in him,” I retorted.
“Excuse me?” It was her turn to be blindsided.
“If you were secure in your relationship with Lawson, then you wouldn’t feel the need to come over here and mark your territory.”
“Is that how you speak to all your customers?” she demanded.
“Just the ones who piss on the carpet.”
Oh, my God, oh, my God… Did I just say that?
I eyeballed her, knowing if I backed down now, I would be done for. Maybe I already was because she had ‘complain to the management’ written all over her face. Simon was cool and all, but I doubted he would be thrilled when he received a strongly worded email from blondie.
“You’ve just made a big mistake, Amber.” Her eyes narrowed, and a sly smirk pulled at her pouty lips. “Game on, bitch.”
She looked me over and pulled a face reminiscent of a puckered arsehole, then flicked her ash-blonde ponytail over her shoulder and turned, stalking away like she was on the Victoria’s Secret catwalk.
Wow. Just…wow.
I didn’t know what to do. I was stuck to the spot, unable to decide between laughing my arse off or cowering behind the desk in fear.
For the first time in my life, I’d made myself a mortal enemy.
“Amber?”
Montana’s voice snapped me out of my daydream, and I blinked.
“Huh?”
>
She peered at me, studying my expression. “Are you all right?”
We were sitting in our usual spot by the bar at Indigo, indulging in some after work drinks. Tonight, Montana had declared a tropical theme, so we were drinking Tequila Sunrises. Tequila, orange juice, and grenadine syrup with a slice of orange and a cherry. The two-toned cocktail was rather sweet, though the tequila gave it a little bite, making it one of my favourites.
“Amber?” she prodded.
“A customer was rude to me today,” I replied with a sigh. “I just… I get worked up about things and stew over them. It’s nothing.”
“Sometimes people suck,” Hudson said from his usual position behind the bar. “Their bad day becomes everyone’s bad day. You should try working behind a bar. I see all kinds.”
“It wasn’t the blonde bimbo, was it?” Montana asked, twirling the straw around in her Tequila Sunrise.
I groaned and slumped against the bar.
“What have I missed?” Hudson asked, glancing between the two of us.
“Well, there’s this guy—”
“Montana,” I hissed.
“What?” She pouted. “Huddy’s cool. He’ll go into bat for you, Amber. Chill.”
“Can you stop calling me that,” he exclaimed. “It makes me sound like I have no balls.”
I couldn’t help laughing, and I straightened up. “I don’t want to whinge. People don’t like whingers.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Montana declared. “You vent to us, and we help you by inventing new names to call the guy.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like arsehat.” She thought for a second. “Douche nozzle.”
“Douche nozzle?” Hudson asked with a snort.
“It’s a creative name for a penis,” she declared with a raised eyebrow. To me, she said, “As a guy, Huddy can offer some insight. You should tell him about Lawson.”