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

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Flirting with the bad boy: A love at the Gym Novel Page 10

by Sparling, Amy


  “Hey, Kris,” Brent says, nodding at me as I walk in and set my motorcycle keys on my desk. “I was thinking we should get an Xbox or something for the breakroom TV. That way we can play games.”

  “Why would we need to play games at work?” I say, lifting an eyebrow. “We’re busy at work.”

  He shrugs. “Just if we’re bored.”

  “No, you mean just if you’re bored because you’re hanging out here when you should be home, doing after-work things because your shift is over.”

  Brent clears his throat. “You seem upset.”

  I run a hand through my hair. “Where’s Noah?”

  He must have been listening to us from his office down the hall because he walks out and joins us.

  “Do you think an Xbox is a good idea?”

  Noah shrugs. “Sure. I don’t mind.”

  Noah is the most logical and strait laced of the three of us, and he most definitely wouldn’t think it’s a good idea under any other circumstance. Noah would never agree to an Xbox. He’s lying because he’s worried about me. I sigh.

  “Guys, we need to talk. I get that you’re all worried about me, and no doubt Tasha has told you some exaggerated stories about me, but it’s fine. I’m fine. Seriously. You need to stop babysitting me. I can be alone. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t seem fine,” Brent says after a beat. “We’ve never known you to trip out over a girl this badly. Usually, you’re just on to the next one.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s a first time for everything,” I say. The guys both give me these looks of pity and it just annoys me. Noah and Brent are strong guys. They’re not emotional or overly chatty about stuff like this, at least they never were until now.

  I straighten my shoulders. “Alright, guys. Enough is enough. I’m seriously fine. You both need to get out of here. Go home. Your shift is over. I’ve got it.”

  Luckily, they do leave. I’m not sure what I would have done if they didn’t, but I’m about to lose my cool because I’m not a child. I don’t need to be babysat. Lanie is just a girl I fell hard for. I’ll be fine. I’ll get over it.

  I’m totally, completely, fine.

  And then she walks into the gym.

  It’s just after eight in the evening, and Tasha is in the break room eating dinner and it’s just me up here at the front desk while a few clients work out in the gym.

  I’m so startled to see her that I almost forget how to breathe, and then I gasp in a deep breath of air on instinct and it’s louder than I want. Hopefully the music over the speakers in the ceiling cover the sound because I don’t need Lanie knowing I literally gasp when she walks into a room. She’s dressed in workout clothes, and she has her member card in her hand. She scans the barcode on it to the card reader at the door and then walks toward the cardio machines. She doesn’t even glance my way. She’s only been here to work out one time before and yet she’s walking around like she’s a regular client who comes here every day. Fine with me. I hope she does start working out every day, because then at least I’d get to see her.

  Ah, crap.

  I am in deep.

  With a girl who doesn’t even want me.

  I turn away from the main area of the gym and look at the computer instead. There’s nothing to do here, because we have no new emails to reply to. Nothing new to order for the gym. All the bills have been paid. There’s no reason to stare at the work computer right now, but that’s exactly what I do because I don’t want to stare at her.

  I smell Tasha’s floral perfume before I see her. Noah always talks about how that perfume will be the death of him because he’s in love with her. But when I smell it, I just think of my friend and coworker. Funny how we all associate smells differently.

  See what I’m doing here? I’m thinking about random, pointless things to avoid thinking about Lanie. It’s not working.

  “Yo,” Tasha says, poking me in the elbow with her pen. “You’re being way too obvious, dude.”

  “Obvious?” I say, faking an innocent voice that clearly doesn’t work on her because she rolls her eyes.

  “You’re just staring at the computer screen. You’re not even touching the mouse or the keyboard. Like, what is that? You some kind of zombie or something?”

  I give her a look. “Ha, freaking ha.”

  She grins. “Just so you know, your girl can’t stop looking at you.”

  I try to play it cool, but my eyes betray me and they look over toward the treadmills. Lanie is jogging on one, but her attention is focused upward toward the television that hangs from the ceiling.

  “Doubtful,” I say, glancing back at the work computer.

  “Well she’s not as obvious about it as you are,” Tasha says, pushing my elbow with her pen cap. “She keeps glancing in the wall mirrors and looking at your reflection. Like, every thirty seconds. It’s kind of cute.”

  “You really shouldn’t stare at the clients,” I say, pulling up the work email just for something to do.

  “You should go talk to her,” Tasha says, ignoring me.

  “Not while she’s working out.”

  “But after?” Her voice gets all high-pitched and excited. “Please, Kris. You need to talk to her. She clearly likes you.”

  That gets my attention. I look at her. “She does?”

  “Of course!”

  “And how do you know that?”

  Tasha shrugs one shoulder. “It’s obvious. She keeps looking at you.”

  “Looking at me is not an obvious sign,” I say, glancing back toward the treadmills. Lanie is still watching the television. In fact, she seems perfectly content to work out and not like she’s here to see anyone else. She’s just working out. Not a big deal.

  “Okay, I’ll drop it,” Tasha says. I guess she finally picked up on the cold vibes I’m giving out because I’m so tired of her obsessing over my crush on Lanie. She holds up her hands. “However… if I happen to leave work early because I’m feeling sick, and then you happen to be the only employee here, and then that treadmill starts acting up because it’s been acting up all day, maybe you’ll have to go over there and talk to the client who is using it and tell her it’s best to change to a different treadmill…”

  “Has it really been messing up?” I ask, because that’s a real safety concern.

  Tasha grins, which gives me my answer. “For all we know, every treadmill could break at any second so, it’s not exactly a lie.”

  “You are insane, you know that, right?”

  She flips her hair over her shoulder. “You call it insane, I call it genius. Oh, by the way boss, I’m feeling sick. I think I need to go home.”

  I didn’t even realize it until now, but her purse is already slung over her shoulder when she usually keeps it in the locker room. She’s been planning on leaving all along. “See ya tomorrow,” she says, waving at me as she walks toward the door.

  I watch her walk all the way out to her car, and then once her headlines have driven away, I glance over to the treadmills. This time I see it. Lanie, glancing at me through the reflection in the mirror wall in front of her. Our eyes meet through that reflection. It would be so easy to walk over there, tell her some lie about how that treadmill has been messing up lately. It would be the perfect ice breaker. If she wanted to chat with me, she’d be able to keep up the conversation. If not, she’d just move to a different treadmill and I’d know that she wasn’t interested.

  It would be so easy.

  But telling her some lie about the treadmill would still be telling her a lie. And I don’t want to lie to this girl. I don’t want to fake anything with her anymore.

  I guess I’m also fearing rejection.

  Because for the next hour that Lanie is in my gym working out, I never get the courage to talk to her.

  20

  Lanie

  Work is so slow this week. This is the kind of slow week where I start wondering why I even have this job. If I wasn’t the owner’s daughter, they’d probably ditch my job t
itle and make someone else do my work. When we’re busy, we’re busy, but right now it’s just lots of nothing all day. I even went and reorganized the files in our printer room, but that only took a few hours. Suffice it to say, I am bored.

  And the entire Arctic Protein offices can’t seem to entertain me today. I walk from office to office, stopping in to see my dad, then my mom, then even my brothers. Jack and James are actually busy today, making conference calls with our manufacturing facilities. Julian took off work today to spend the day with his wife because it’s her birthday.

  Around lunchtime, I run across the street to order a salad to go from my favorite salad place and then I call Suzy, hoping to chat with her a bit. But she’s busy with her makeup clients and can’t talk.

  The hard thing about being totally in love with a guy you can’t love is trying to stay busy enough to not think about him.

  I eat my salad and play on my work computer. I end up on Pinterest, just scrolling around looking at all the pretty pictures. A colorful image catches my attention. It’s an art canvas with purple roses painted on it, and a cute saying written in cursive:

  Follow your dreams. They know the way.

  I click on the link and go to an Etsy store called Becca’s Inspirations. The entire thing is filled with beautiful handmade canvas art, each one of them featuring a beautiful and inspirational quote. I get lost looking through them all and I add several of them to my online Wishlist. I can’t decide which one to buy. I adore the quote: If you never try you’ll never know.

  And Always believe in the impossible is also a contender.

  By the time my salad is finished, I’m feeling both inspired and sad. Because it’s one thing to read these beautiful words and feel them light up your soul and make you happy. But how long does that temporary moment of inspiration last? The happy feeling I get from reading these quotes only lasts a few seconds… then I realize I’m still here, sitting in my office, with the same problems I had before I read those poetic words.

  Nothing will change until I change it. Nothing will get better until I make it better.

  Maybe that’s what I need to see written on a piece of artwork. Because happy, inspiring words only go so far. Actions cause real happiness.

  I take out my cell phone and open a new text message. Before I can talk myself out of it, I type out a text and hit send.

  Me: Coffee?

  A few minutes drag on, each second agonizingly slower than the second before it. My phone is quiet. I stare at the text, wishing I could take it back, or go back in time and never send it. It’s been thirty minutes now, and no reply.

  I am an idiot.

  Why, oh why did I do that?

  My dad pokes his head in my office. “The people from World Fitness are here for a meeting about carrying our products in their European gyms. Wanna join us?”

  No, I think. I don’t want anything to do with work while I’m freaking out about a guy!

  But on a normal, non-boy-crazy day, I would definitely want to be in on that meeting. So I nod, swallow the lump in my throat, and stand up. My phone can just stay on my desk for all I care—there’s no reason to be staring at it during this meeting with our potential clients.

  In the conference room, my mom has set out a wide array of pastries, fruit, and drinks for our guests. I grab two Danish cream puffs and a coffee because I’m hoping some sugar will calm my nerves. The meeting goes well, and I’m able to put on my charming smile and act like a normal human being for the entire forty-five minutes. Dad seems impressed with me, like always. I’m pretty good with the clients, and when it comes to doing business, I’d way rather do it in person than over the phone. Maybe I should have realized that before I sent Kris a text asking him out for coffee.

  I should have done it in person. That’s why I’ve gone to the gym three times this week. It was my desperate attempt to step out of my comfort zone and go ask him on a date. But each time, I got too nervous and just worked out and then went home. Of course, Kris was there the entire time. He could have walked over and talked to me, but he didn’t. And now I’m stuck with this text message sent out into the void, and he might never reply to it.

  Ugh, I’m such an idiot.

  When the meeting is over, I help Mom clean up the leftover food, and I eat another Danish while I’m at it, as well as a handful of strawberries.

  Jack stops in and takes the last two donuts off the tray and shoves them in his mouth. “You look like crap,” he mumbles over a mouthful of donut.

  I roll my eyes, but I know he’s right. There are dark circles under my eyes and my clothing choice was a little basic today. I’m wearing black slacks that haven’t been ironed and a pink sweater that is two sizes too big because I plucked it out of Suzy’s clothing donation bag last winter. Some girls can make the baggy, oversized clothing trend look cute, but on me, I just look like a haggard old cat lady.

  I slink back to my office, only to have a slight panic attack when I see my phone lighting up with a new text. It could be from anyone, but I can’t stand the anticipation so I practically dive across my desk to check it.

  It’s from Kris.

  Kris: I’d love coffee. Today at 5? Same place?

  We have a place. We have a place!

  I squeeze the phone so hard my knuckles turn white. He agreed. He wants to do coffee! Another text comes in.

  Kris: Sorry for the late reply, I was sleeping.

  Duh… he works night shift. He doesn’t wake up until around two in the afternoon. I should have known that. And here I was freaking out about this stupid text. I’m so giddy I could jump up and down, but even though I’m in my office alone, my brothers or my parents could walk by at any second and I’m not about to embarrass myself in front of them.

  I take a deep breath, grin, and sit down at my desk.

  Me: 5pm at the same place. See you there!

  I am floating through the last two hours of work. It’s like my body turned into air and I’m just blissfully here, wandering around like a weightless ghost. If that sounds silly and dramatic, I don’t even care. I have a date with Kris. A real, non-fake date.

  And I’m going to tell him exactly how I feel.

  I refuse to chicken out. I read over my favorite quotes from Becca’s Inspirations and I hold them dear to my heart as I drive to the coffee shop that’s right next to Roca Springs Fitness.

  Kris is already here because I park next to his motorcycle. As I walk by it, I remember the times he drove me on our fake dates, and how great it felt to hold onto his waist while the wind was in our hair. I liked being close to him. I liked how great he was at driving that motorcycle. I like how he gave me his helmet to wear. I hope I get to ride on it again.

  Inside Café Marese, Kris is already sitting at a table, the same one we sat at last time. There are two lattes in front of him. My heart swells up.

  “You got me a latte?” I say when I walk up to him.

  He grins. “Your favorite. The white sand flavor, right?”

  “Yep,” I say with a cheesy grin. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

  He stands up. “Of course I did.” He leans forward and gives me a quick hug. It’s not the romantic embrace that my body is craving, but it’s a friendly, nice-to-see-you hug, and I still enjoy it.

  I sit across from him and take a sip of my latte. This flavor is the owner’s special recipe and it’s delicious. It smells like coconut and marshmallows and reminds me of sitting around a bonfire at the beach.

  “I’m glad you texted,” Kris says, taking a sip of his coffee. “How have you been?”

  “Well…” I’m about to tell him the usual answer. The standard oh I’ve been fine answer that I’d give a casual acquaintance. But then I remember why I am here. I’m not here for a casual friendship with this man.

  “Kris, we need to talk.”

  He blinks. “Okay. Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay, but I need to say something.” My heart pounds and my bottom lip hurts becau
se I’m digging my teeth into it without realizing it. I take a deep breath. “I’m just going to talk and you listen, okay? And then if, when I’m done, you want to run away, that’s totally cool.”

  He gives me a little smirk that makes my heart flutter. But it’s too late to back out now.

  “So, here’s the thing,” I say, looking down at my latte. “When I met you, I thought you were this gorgeous, but dangerous guy. You were that sexy, bad boy type that can’t be trusted. You were perfect to be a fake boyfriend to annoy my brothers. But as we hung out, I realized you’re not that stereotype at all. You’re actually great. And, well, I developed this huge crush on you.”

  I look up at him. He’s watching me so intently I worry I’ll catch on fire. He doesn’t move a muscle. I swallow. “And, well, I guess what I’m saying is that… I like you. As more than a fake-boyfriend. I like you, like… well, like a real boyfriend. And I’m way too scared to make the first move, and I don’t know how you feel about me, and I just don’t know what to do and now I’m rambling and—”

  Kris leans forward, his eyes peering into mine. A soft, dangerously handsome smile spreads across his lips as his hand reaches out, cupping my cheek.

  “Lanie,” he whispers. “You’re in luck.”

  “How?” I breathe. We are just inches apart now, as he leans over this tiny coffee table that separates us.

  “I’m not afraid to make the first move,” he says.

  And then he kisses me.

  21

  Kris

  It’s Friday night and I’m going on a date.

  Like so many Friday nights before this, I showered and got dressed and stared at myself in the mirror, making sure I looked hot. But there is one very important difference that makes tonight a special kind of Friday night that doesn’t compare to the others. Tonight, I’m nervous.

 

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