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

by Sparling, Amy

  “If anything, he’s already broken your heart and you’re acting like you’re fine,” James says. Then he does something awful. He gives me this look like he feels sorry for me. “We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I am totally okay!” I snap. “Please just leave my office! Now.”

  By some wonderful stroke of luck, my brothers do leave. I get up and close the office door behind them, my chest heaving. My prank didn’t work so well if they’re going to call me on my bluff. I can’t let them win. I’m supposed to win.

  I take a deep breath. I should have planned this whole thing better. Got Kris to agree to several fake dates. Maybe even a fake public breakup.

  I slump back to my desk and I’m not even hungry anymore. I haven’t heard from Kris since the gala, which is exactly what I expected. We aren’t actually dating, after all. We’re not even friends. Not really. He’s just a business owner that buys protein powder from my family business. We are colleagues at best. And now I’ve dug myself into this hole of having a fake boyfriend and I’m not sure how to get out of it while still looking like I’ve won.

  I can’t just tell my brothers I broke up with him because then they’ll think they were right. Maybe I should ask Kris to go on one more fake date with me. I reach for my phone, and my hand is shaking. I know before I even pull up the text messages that I won’t be doing that. I can’t ask a guy who is basically a stranger to go on a second fake date. Or can I?

  I mean, he did say he enjoys messing with my brothers as much as I do. I take a deep breath to steady my shaky hands. I can practically picture my best friend Suzy’s words if she were here right now. She’d tell me to be a boss babe and make my own destiny. She’d tell me not to be scared of talking to a guy.

  So I send him a text.

  Me: Want to meet up for coffee?

  His reply is so quick it catches me by surprise.

  Kris: How about today?

  * * *

  My foot taps nervously on the floor of Café Marese. This is the coffee shop right next to the gym, where we agreed to meet at five o’clock. I’m ten minutes early, so it’s not a big deal that he’s not here yet, but that doesn’t stop me from nervously worrying that he won’t show up. It’s kind of ironic how even fake dates make me nervous. How on earth am I ever going to find a real relationship when I can barely keep my cool around some random guy?

  As soon as Kris enters the coffee shop, it’s obvious why I can’t keep my cool around him. He is without a doubt the hottest guy in Roca Springs. His jeans are snug and his black T-shirt fits him in all the right places. It’s such a simple shirt to look so amazingly good. His dark hair has that messy windswept look to it since he just got off his motorcycle. In his hand is a red helmet.

  He smiles at me when he sees me across the café. My heart skips a beat like some kind of total loser.

  “This was unexpected,” Kris says as he takes a seat next to me, setting the helmet in his lap.

  “Sorry.” My voice is sheepish and not at all like the confident boss babe I want to be.

  “Don’t be sorry,” he says with that grin of his that makes my toes weak. “I’m happy you texted.”

  My heart melts into a puddle right here and now, splashing all over the floor.

  “I had a reason,” I say, trying to be cool. I channel that inner boss babe, wherever she may be. “So it turns out my one night fake date didn’t work so well.”

  “Oh?” he says, lifting an eyebrow. “I though the night was a success.”

  “It was, but now my brothers keep asking where you are.”

  “So we need to fake date a little bit longer to fully drive this charade home?”

  I bite the inside of my lip. “Is that okay?”

  Maybe I’m imagining things, but it almost seems like he’s smirking a bit. He nods slowly. “It sounds like fun. How long do we want to fake date?”

  I shrug. “A few more times? You come pick me up on your motorcycle and I’ll buy us dinner and then—”

  “No,” he says, shaking his head. “Why would you buy us dinner?”

  “Because it’ll be my way of thanking you for going through all this trouble.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s not trouble. I’ll buy.”

  “No you won’t,” I say.

  He shrugs one shoulder. “We can split the bill.”

  “Better,” I say. “But I’d rather pay.”

  He crosses his arms over his chest. “Not happening.”

  “Well, at least we agree on a few more fake dates. I really do appreciate your help.”

  He grins. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  15

  Kris

  I can’t believe how nervous she looks asking me to do this. Maybe she thought I’d say no. How could I possibly say no to her?

  I lean back in my chair. “So are the few dates are over, how are we going to break up?”

  Her eyes widen. “I guess I haven’t thought about it. I mean… I’m breaking up with you, obviously.”

  “Why is it obvious?” I ask, giving her a playful grin. “Maybe I break up with you.”

  She frowns. “But then my brothers will gloat.”

  The fearful look in her eyes tells me she doesn’t realize I’m just playing with her. I reach over and put my hand on top of hers. “It’s a joke. I’ll let you dump me.”

  “You sure?”

  I nod. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t tell her no.

  The fear in her expression is replaced with determination. She sits up a little straighter and pushes her light purple hair behind her shoulders. “So let’s make a plan. How many more dates? Three to five?”

  “Five,” I say, just because I want to spend more time with her. “I’ll pick you up on my motorcycle for all of them, or I’ll show up on the bike and then we’ll take your car. Whichever one annoys your brothers the most.”

  “They’ll hate both options,” she says with a snort.

  “We’ll alternate then. I’ll never come up to your door.. I’ll just honk and wait on you.”

  “And I’ll act super excited to see you,” she says.

  “And I’ll act like I couldn’t care less.”

  She grins. “So you’ll basically act like the last few guys I dated for real.”

  My chest tightens as anger floods into me. How could a guy treat her that way in a real relationship? “Wow,” I say. “Maybe your brothers are right to be protective of you.”

  She shakes her head. “No… they are too protective. They try to police what I wear and how I act and who I hang out with. It has to stop. If I’m going to date losers, it’s my right. They can just get over it.”

  “But you’ll date someone who isn’t a loser next, right? You deserve that. You deserve better.”

  She looks down at her coffee. “I mean, it’s not like I try to date jerks. I don’t go out looking for them…they just find me.”

  I can tell I’ve struck a chord with her. Maybe she’s in the same boat I am with being unable to find anyone worthwhile to date. Maybe it’s because we’re stuck here in this town with the same people we’ve known our entire lives.

  “Hey,” I say softly. “Don’t think about the past. That’s over. You’ll find someone worthy of you.”

  Her head tilts to the side as she watches me. “Maybe.”

  My whole body reacts to her—the way she looks at me, all soft and sweet and filled with the thoughts she’s keeping hidden—it makes me want to lean over and wrap my arms around her. It makes me want to hold her until she’s happy again.

  A lump forms in my throat. “Maybe we could fake like you’re in a great relationship,” I say. “I’ll be the studious boyfriend who treats you perfectly. Your brothers might hate that even more.”

  She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds—she just keeps staring into my eyes, her thoughts hidden away. I want to know what she’s thinking, but it’s not my place to ask.

  Finally, she looks down at her coffee. �
�No, I think our original plan is better.”

  “As you wish,” I say.

  She smiles into her coffee, and all at once I wish we had met under different circumstances. I wish we were here, today, on a real date.

  * * *

  After walking Lanie to her car, I walk back toward the gym. My phone beeps in my pocket, that familiar chime of my dating app letting me know I have new messages. I open it up and don’t even look at the four new messages from four different women. Instead, I go to the settings, delete my account, and then uninstall the app.

  It feels good.

  I don’t even know why it feels so good to be rid of this dating app. It’s not like Lanie is my girlfriend, or anywhere close to it. It’s not like I finally got the courage to ask her on a real date. But I have learned something about myself lately.

  These dating app girls aren’t for me. I’m not having fun going on random first dates with random women.

  I can’t get Lanie out of my head. An hour goes by at work, and then two, and while I’m being my friendly self to all of our clients, and laughing at Tasha’s jokes, I’m slowly falling apart on the inside. I don’t want to fake date Lanie.

  Maybe I will just ask her on a real date and see what happens.

  I slip out of the gym and duck into my office, closing the door behind me. Texting is so lame, but my heart is beating a mile a minute and I’m not sure I can talk on the phone with the confidence I’ll need if I’m going to ask her on a real date.

  So texting it is.

  Me: Hi there. Want to have dinner with me this weekend?

  I feel like a teenager as I sit here and wait for her reply. It’s only three minutes but it feels like so much longer.

  Lanie: OMG can you text me the same thing in about five minutes? I’m going to leave my phone on the table in front of my brothers so they’ll see it.

  My heart sinks. She didn’t realize this was my attempt at a real date. That’s my fault—I didn’t make it clear. Why would she think I wanted a real date? I’ve given her no reason to.

  I type out a reply.

  Me: Sure thing.

  And then I wait a few minutes and send her the same text again, knowing she’ll be happy to annoy her brothers. She might be happy going along with this fake dating plan, and that’s good. I want her to be happy.

  But I want something real.

  Even if I have to fake it first.

  16

  Lanie

  My phone lights up with a text. James sees it because I’ve left my phone right there on the kitchen table where he’s eating some of Mom’s leftover lasagna.

  He groans. “Dump this idiot already,” he says, sliding my phone across the granite counter toward me.

  “Is it Kris?” Jack says, poking his head out from the microwave where he’s heating up his second helping of leftovers.

  “It’s none of your business,” I say, taking my phone and pretending like I’m all offended that they saw it. I love that Kris played along and texted me again. I walk off to my bedroom and close my door, then text him back. We make plans to get pizza on Friday night. I know my brothers will be here because Friday nights are when they play poker with their friends in my parent’s garage. Our garage isn’t like a regular garage filled with junk—Dad has turned our two-car garage into an all-out poker mancave with neon lights and a large wooden poker table. They keep the garage door open all night since the weather is nice, and it’ll be the perfect vantage point for my brothers to see my fake date.

  I can’t wait.

  * * *

  Friday arrives quickly and I’m actually nervous. Well, nervous and giddy and all kinds of feelings. I try not to let myself think it, but these fake dates with Kris are kind of like practice for real dates, if I’ll ever start going on real dates again. I don’t even know where to meet a guy to go on a real date. Maybe I’ll ask Kris.

  I chuckle to myself at the idea of telling Kris exactly what I want.

  Hi, Kris, can you tell me how to meet a man who is just as hot as you and just as nice and amazing as you are, and how can I date him for real?

  My cheeks burn at the thought of it. And then I hear his motorcycle. I look in the mirror above my vanity and make sure my makeup is perfect and my outfit—tight jeans and a cute black tank top—looks good too. I have to admit, I look pretty great. My brothers will hate this.

  I rush outside, leaving through the front door instead of the garage. I know the garage door is open and my brothers and their friends are probably all watching the motorcycle that pulls into my driveway. But I don’t look at them. I walk straight up to Kris. Well, it’s more of an excited scamper than a walk. He pulls off his helmet and grins at me from where he sits on his motorcycle.

  I rush up and throw my arms around him. In a swift, almost effortless motion, he pulls me onto the motorcycle, but I’m facing the wrong way. Instead of sitting behind him so we can drive away, I’m sitting in front of him, facing him, my legs wrapped around his waist.

  It’s all incredibly sexy.

  His arms are strong as they hold me to him, his forehead pressing to mine. “It probably looks like we’re kissing,” he whispers, his fingers reaching up and running through my hair.

  I nod dumbly because I’m too frazzled to speak. After a few seconds, he grins. “Ready to go?”

  He helps me stand up and then he puts his helmet on my head. I climb on the bike behind him and hold onto his waist while he drives away.

  The last thing I see are my brothers and their friends staring at us with their jaws hanging open.

  Excellent.

  Kris and I go on two more dates. They all start out perfectly and end perfectly, because when he’s at my house picking me up, he’s touchy-feely and romantic and really acts like he’s all about me. It angers my brothers and has them flipping their lids like nothing else. I have to admit that I’m really enjoying that part.

  But then the dates themselves are nothing like real dates. Kris and I go somewhere, get food, hang out, and talk. I learn about his project motorcycle he’s rebuilding at his house, and how he’s always loved motorcycles because of his grandfather. I tell him about my family’s business and how I’ll probably work there my whole life even though protein supplements aren’t really my passion. He jokes that I could work at his gym if I ever want job. We eat pizza and get coffee and hang out like friends even though we pretend to be dating when we’re at my house.

  We become close friends over the next two weeks, and I find myself both loving our newfound friendship and kind of hating it. Because deep down, I still like him. And it’s weird.

  How do you reconcile being just friends with a guy you’re totally crushing on? You can’t, I don’t think. Which means I’m totally screwed.

  I know I need to break things off with him—officially and in a fake-boyfriend capacity—as soon as possible so I don’t end up hurting myself. This charade of fooling my brothers has gone on long enough, and I think I have sufficiently convinced them that I’m my own woman who can do whatever she pleases.

  So the next time Kris picks me up on his motorcycle for a fake date to see a movie, I decide to tell him we’re fake breaking up.

  Only… he arrives at my house wearing the cutest smirk. I love the way he looks at me as I walk out to his motorcycle. It makes my whole body warm up and tingle and the only thing that helps is wrapping my arms around his neck and pretending to kiss him. So far we haven’t kissed, we just do this whole cuddle up close to each other thing that will look like a kiss to my brothers who watch me through the window.

  The words “we should break up now” hang out on the tip of my tongue but I never say them. We get to the movie theater and Kris holds my hand as we walk inside—just in case anyone sees—and I’m still feeling like I can’t say it. We take our seats and I try to sit far over in mine, so that our legs don’t touch. I want to remind myself that we are not on a real date. We’re just two friends pretending to date in public. But right now, the lights
are off and the movie is beginning, and we don’t have to fake it.

  And yet… he puts his arm around me. I find myself curling into his shoulder, relaxing into his embrace. This was not part of the script.

  But maybe it’s okay to improv.

  17

  Kris

  I wonder if she knows. I wonder if she’s counting down the fake dates like I am, and if she’s aware that this trip to the movies is the last date we agreed to go on. We agreed to go on five dates and this is date number five.

  Now it’s time to break up.

  I’m trying to enjoy the movie, enjoy the feel of her head on my shoulder, enjoy the smell of her perfume and the warm fuzzy feeling that envelopes my entire body whenever I’m around her. I need to make the most of these feelings because they are almost over. Maybe we’ll stay friends after this, but probably not. After all, we’ll be pretending to break up. Her family won’t expect us to stay friends.

  When the movie is over, there’s a heavy ache in my chest, but I know I’m not going to be the one to bring up our pending fake break up. She’ll have to do that, because I will happily keep fake dating her forever. I would even fake marry her. Fake buy a house together. Fake live happily ever after.

  I’d do it all if she asked, because pretending to be her man is better actually being anyone else’s.

  Lanie’s soft hand slips into mine when we walk into the theater lobby, right on schedule.

  “That was a pretty good movie,” she says, glancing up at me.

  “Yep,” I say with a nod. I hope she doesn’t have any follow up questions because I don’t remember a thing about the movie. I was only thinking about us for the last two hours.