Flirting with the bad boy: A love at the Gym Novel

by Sparling, Amy

  My phone sits on my nightstand filled with angry texts from my brothers. As I suspected, they didn’t cause a scene at the gala, but they did feel the need to text me all of Kris’ perceived horrible qualities and tell me that I shouldn’t date him. I ignored the texts, but I’m sure I’ll have to face my brothers first thing tomorrow.

  Kris and I had left the gala a little bit early in order to avoid more conflict. Plus, I thought it’d be funnier if my brothers couldn’t find me after the fact to continue their tirade.

  The good part is that Mom and Dad were so busy all night they didn’t even get a chance to see me or my date, so they’re none the wiser. That’s for the best, because I don’t want my parents thinking I’m dating someone. They get so weird when they know about a guy. Dad gives me his talks about how I should never settle for someone who isn’t good enough, and Mom starts swooning about the idea of planning my wedding and having future grandbabies.

  It’s safe to say my entire family is comprised of weirdos who care way too much about my love life.

  I take a deep breath and pull my blankets up to my chin. It’s late. I need to go to sleep. I close my eyes and immediately see Kris. He’s pretty freaking hot for a fake boyfriend. I may not know how to find hot guys to date in real life, but when it comes to fake life? I’m the best.

  * * *

  I wake up to the smell of bacon and coffee. Sometimes I really despise being an adult who still lives with her parents like a loser, but on the weekends when they decide to cook a huge breakfast feast, I don’t mind it one bit. If I lived alone in a small apartment, not only would I have much less disposable income, I’d also never cook myself a huge breakfast. So, despite feeling like a loser, there are silver linings to still being at home.

  I head downstairs and pour myself a cup of coffee. At the stove, Dad is frying the bacon and Mom is flipping pancakes. She always roasts some pecans in the oven to sprinkle on top of the pancakes and they’re delicious. My mouth waters as I pour some vanilla creamer into my coffee.

  “Morning,” I say with a yawn. I didn’t end up sleeping much last night. My thoughts kept drifting to a certain handsome bad boy and how cute he looked leaving my house on his motorcycle last night.

  “Honey, you looked beautiful at the gala,” Mom says, flashing me a smile before turning back to her pancakes. “I forgot to tell you that.”

  “No, you didn’t forget,” I say. “You told me that brief second I saw you by the ice sculpture.”

  “Oh,” she says with a nod. “You’re right. I did. Last night was such a blur. I barely remember any of it.”

  “But you pulled off another amazing night as always,” Dad says. He leans over and kisses her. I love that after all these years of marriage, my parents are still in love. I want that for myself one day. I want a real love. A real boyfriend. Not a fake date. Something real.

  I take a sip of my coffee and steal a handful of roasted pecans while I sit at the kitchen table, my thoughts drifting back to Kris. I would offer to help my parents cook, but they always say no. They have their little weekend breakfast routine, and it’s actually really, really cute. I wonder if Kris and I would have a routine if we lived together…

  Whoa. Okay, Lanie. Chill out. He’s not your boyfriend.

  Not your boyfriend, not your boyfriend.

  I repeat the phrase in my head in the hopes that reality will sink in and my stupid, stupid thoughts will stop drifting back to him.

  Not your boyfriend.

  “So, tell me about your boyfriend.”

  I startle. “Huh?”

  Mom smiles as she sits across from me at the table. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head, and her eyes are still slightly smoky from the makeup she wore last night. She probably did what I did last night and took a quick shower then passed out.

  “Your new beau,” Mom says, resting her chin in her hand. She’s got that starry-eyed look that she gets every time she wants to talk to me about marriage and babies and all that nonsense.

  “I don’t have a new beau,” I say, feeling my heartbeat speed up. Am I nervous, or sad?

  “Your brothers seem to think differently,” Dad pipes up from the stove. “They had quite a lot to say about the subject.”

  I roll my eyes. “They knew my date from high school and they didn’t approve.”

  “Oh, they never approve,” Mom says, waving her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about them.” She leans forward. “So tell me all about him. What’s his name?”

  “Mom,” I whine. “It was just a date. Nothing to even talk about. I needed a date to the gala, so I got one.”

  Dad grunts, his back to us as he flips bacon. I’m not sure if that’s a grunt of approval or annoyance, but it doesn’t matter. This little Kris lie ends with my parents. I only wanted to show my brothers a thing or two, not my parents. So I smile as convincingly as possible.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend, Mom. But if I ever get one, you’ll be the first to know.”

  She sighs. “Guess I can’t start planning my baby girl’s wedding.”

  I roll my eyes. Dad grunts. This time it’s very clearly an annoyed grunt. I think Dad would be happy if I never got married. Mom laughs.

  I force a laugh, too. I know I should be happy. My plan to mess with my brothers totally worked. Kris kept his promise and everything worked out fine. The gala was a success, too, which is wonderful because this is the most stressful event of our year at work.

  Everything is great.

  Yet, I still feel unhappy. Like my heart knows something I don’t.

  Like I’m missing out on something big.

  13

  Kris

  The work on my project motorcycle grinds to a halt when I have to order some new parts for it and they won’t come in for three weeks. I don’t know what to do with myself during the days now, because there’s nothing to work on at home. My mind stays clear when my hands are busy. I clean my house, fix a few broken things here and there, but that only takes a couple of days. It’s been four days since the gala and I’m not handling myself very well. I can’t stop thinking about her. And it’s so stupid because she wasn’t a date. She wasn’t a girlfriend. She’s just a girl who works at one of our suppliers who asked me for a favor.

  Why can’t I get her out of my mind?

  I can’t stop replaying that night over in my head and comparing it to all the dates I’ve had over the last couple of years. All the real dates I’ve been on don’t even match up with this one fake date. Everything about the night was perfect, except how at the end of the date, she reached out and shook my hand after I took her back home.

  “You were the greatest fake boyfriend ever,” she said, flashing me that adorable smile of hers. “If you ever need a reference for another fake boyfriend, just let me know.”

  I’d laughed along with it and told her I was happy to have helped out because annoying her brothers is also a fun reward for me. But deep down, I hated it because she’s the kind of woman I’d want to date for real. And when I’m dating someone for real, I want their family to like me not think I’m some low-life who doesn’t deserve her.

  While it’s boring being at home, it’s slightly less boring at work. The night shift is never very busy, so it’s hard to keep my mind occupied and not thinking about Lanie. I find myself lazily playing on the work computer tonight, looking up her name in our client database. Her entire family pops up on the same account. Her dad has actually been to the gym several times and he always checks in around noon. Her brothers have been a handful of times as well. Lanie has only checked in once, that night I saw her.

  My hopes crash and burn as I look at her log in history. I’ve been hoping I might run into her again, but it looks like she only came to work out that one time that I saw her. And I’m pretty sure she only did that to confirm our plans for the gala.

  I take out my phone and look at the text messages. Lanie and I exchanged a few texts about the gala, but that’s all. We’re
not exactly “text each other” friends—or friends at all, really. Would it be weird to reach out and send her a hello text?

  Yes, I decide.

  We ended the night on a friendly tone but she didn’t ask to see me again. She gave no indication that we’d stay friends after that night. I was her fake date, and that’s all I was. So I really need to get over it.

  “What ya doin’?”

  I jump. I didn’t realize Tasha had walked right up, practically leaning over my shoulder to read my texts. “You talking to your fake girlfriend?”

  I pull my phone away. “No.”

  “It looked like it,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.

  I slide the phone into my pocket. “Nope. I was just reading our old texts.”

  Tasha gives me the most pathetic look and I can’t say I blame her. I am being totally pathetic right now. I heave a sigh.

  “I can’t help it. I—I kind of like her.”

  “Kind of like her, or you do like her?”

  I am not a fan of Tasha’s talents to see right through me so easily. My shoulders fall. “I don’t know.”

  She folds her arms across her chest. “You don’t know?”

  “If it had been a real date, I’d be asking her on another one,” I say. “That’s what I know.”

  Tasha’s eyes go wide and then she playfully smacks me on the arm. “Kris! You like her!”

  My teeth wear into my bottom lip. “I guess I do.”

  “This is…Wow.” Tasha shakes her head, her eyes still wide in disbelief. “You never want a second date! You go on so many first dates and you always have some problem with all of the women you date.”

  “I don’t have a problem,” I say, feeling the need to defend myself. “I just don’t…connect.”

  She leans forward, elbows on the counter, resting her chin in her hands. “But you connected with her? This is so romantic I’m going to die.”

  “It’s not romantic. It’s lame. I can’t be crushing on someone who doesn’t like me.”

  Tasha frowns. “How do you know she doesn’t like you?”

  I shrug.

  She pokes me in the arm. “Have you asked her?”

  “This isn’t junior high,” I say sarcastically. “I can’t just give her a note saying do you like me?”

  “No, you can be an adult and ask her on a real date.”

  I look away. “It’s more complicated than that.”

  I know Tasha, and I know she won’t let me drop the subject. So I decide to tell her what’s been weighing on me ever since the gala. As much as I want to keep the details to myself because they’re embarrassing, I could probably use another perspective on this.

  I hold up my finger before I begin. “You have to promise you won’t tell anyone.”

  “Who would I tell?” Tasha says all innocently.

  “Noah, for one.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I won’t tell him.”

  “See, why don’t I believe you?”

  She grins. “How bad is what you’re about to tell me?”

  “It’s not bad… it just makes me look like an idiot.”

  She considers this for a second. “Okay, I won’t tell Noah, but I don’t like keeping secrets from my boyfriend so you should just tell him yourself.”

  “Maybe one day, I will.”

  She reaches up and zips her lips closed with an invisible key. I feel like a total tool telling her all of this, but I do anyway—for the perspective. Maybe Tasha will give me some special womanly insight about what Lanie might be thinking that will make me feel better.

  So I tell her about the fake date, and how I held her in my arms, and how she kissed me on the cheek and held my hand the whole time. Tasha is just grinning like a fool, happily listening to everything I say.

  Then I tell her about what happened afterward, when we were alone in the back parking lot. How Lanie just instantly dropped the charade and acted like we were nothing.

  Tasha’s smile fades. “Oh.”

  “Oh?” I say, fear rising in my chest.

  She curls her lip. “She just completely stopped acting flirty?”

  “…Yeah.”

  Tasha is quiet for a moment. “Well… that’s not good. I mean, if she liked you, she would probably still be flirting with you all night. And like, in the car ride home and stuff. Did she flirt at all on the way home?”

  I shake my head. “But I didn’t flirt with her, either. I mean, I wanted to. But it felt weird. Felt like I had promised to be her fake date and I couldn’t just start acting like her real date.”

  Tasha’s lips slide to the side of her mouth. “And now you’re crushing on her for real and you can’t do anything because she doesn’t like you.”

  “I don’t know for a fact that she doesn’t like me,” I say quickly.

  The look Tasha gives me feels like she just slammed a dagger into my chest. “Well…”

  “Well what?” I say.

  “Look, you’re my friend and I’ll be honest with you.” Tasha puts a hand on my shoulder. “If a girl likes a guy… she acts like it. Maybe… maybe she doesn’t see you that way.”

  “Wow.” I run a hand through my hair. “You are not good at sugar coating bad news.”

  She chuckles. “Like I said, you’re my friend. I’m not going to lie just to save your feelings. It kind of seems like maybe she doesn’t like you.”

  “So I should delete her number and never talk to her again?” I ask.

  Tasha shrugs. “That’s up to you. How much do you like her?”

  “I’ll put it this way,” I say as I trace the outline of the Roca Springs Fitness logo on our counter. I can’t bring myself to look at Tasha right now because I’m so humiliated. “Out of all the girls I’ve dated over the years… I’ve never wanted a second date as badly as I want one with Lanie.”

  Tasha gives me the most pitying look ever, like I’m some kind of hideous dog that no one wants to adopt. I hate the way that look makes me feel.

  “If you like her, you can ask her out. You never know what she’ll say.”

  “And if she says no?”

  Tasha shrugs. “Well, then at least you’d have an answer.”

  “Thanks,” I say sarcastically. “That doesn’t make me feel better at all.”

  There she goes again with that sad look on her face. She tilts her head and puts on a small smile. “For what it’s worth, I think you should at least try.”

  14

  Lanie

  It’s amazing how boring your work week is when you’re not preoccupied with planning a gala and pulling a massive prank on your brothers with the hottest guy you’ve ever met. I get up each day and come into work and talk to customers and eat lunch with my dad and it’s just all so very boring. It doesn’t slip my mind that what I’m doing this week is exactly the same as my normal life was before I met Kris. The only reason I’m unhappy with my life now is because Kris isn’t in it. How pathetic is that?

  Maybe I should find a real boyfriend.

  On Thursday, I walk into the employee’s only break room to find my mom and dad kissing next to the microwave.

  “Gross,” I mutter as I slip past them and take my lunch out of the fridge. “Get a room.”

  “We are in a room,” Dad says, not taking his eyes off Mom.

  Mom giggles and steps back, releasing him from her grip. “You ready?”

  “I’m always ready to go out with you,” Dad says.

  They tell me goodbye and then the gross lovebirds leave for lunch, and I’m stuck here alone. It occurs to me for the second time in just a few minutes that I am extremely pathetic. Here I am, 24 years old, and feeling disappointed that my parents won’t be here to eat lunch with me today. I am so lame. Of course, when you work at the family business, your parents are your coworkers so it’s not like I have much choice in who I eat lunch with every day.

  After my parents leave, I bring my lunch back to my office and play a Netflix show on my work computer.

 
James and Jack walk past my office door, stop, then come back and look at me. “What are you doing?” James asks.

  “Eating lunch?” I say, holding up my bag of chips.

  They take that as an invitation to walk into my office.

  “Where’s your boy toy?” Jack asks. “He’s not sweet enough to take you out to lunch?”

  “Yeah, if he likes you so much, he should come around and say hi,” James adds.

  I roll my eyes, but their teasing continues. They start in on how Kris talked a big game at the gala but then they haven’t seen him since then. I sit up straighter, my nostrils flaring. I find that I suddenly want to stick up for Kris and defend him against the insults of my brothers, even though he’s not my boyfriend.

  “You guys are so stupid,” I say, turning back to my Netflix show.

  “You’re the one who can’t admit that your boyfriend sucks,” James says. “I told you not to date him.”

  I drop my sandwich and look up at him. “First of all, he’s not my boyfriend. He was just my date.”

  “You called him your boyfriend at the gala,” James interjects. Dang. He’s got me there. Still, I soldier on.

  “So what? It was just words. We’re not serious… we’re just dating for fun.”

  My brothers look at each other and then at me. “You are so lying,” James says.

  “No I’m not!” I say, and it sounds pretty truthful even though it is a complete lie.

  “You are too lying,” Jack says. I really hate how they gang up on me like this. Jack narrows his eyes at me. “You are not someone who just dates around. You only decide to date someone when you’re being serious. So don’t sit here and act like you’re all casual with that jerk because I know you’re not.”