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

by Sparling, Amy

  “Aren’t you sweet?” she whispers back. I grin and press my forehead to hers, then kiss her.

  “Get a room!” Brent says. I feel a chip hit my arm, and he must have tossed it at me.

  “This is my house,” I say playfully. “I’ll flirt with my girl if I want to.”

  “Babe, don’t give them a hard time.” Dani tells Brent. “I think they’re cute.”

  “For real,” Noah says as he scoops guacamole onto a chip. “We all had to put up with you two being flirty and gross.”

  “Everyone puts up with everyone being flirty and gross,” Tasha says with a laugh. “That’s how friendship should be.”

  “Wow, I feel really left out,” Suzy says. I glance over at her and her bottom lip is poked out, but in a joking way. Still, she looks a little bit hurt. “I hate being single!”

  “We will find you someone,” Lanie says, flashing a smile at her best friend. “I promise.”

  Dani and Tasha nod. “You want a guy?” Dani says. “We will totally find you a guy.”

  “We’ll find you some hot, single sexy guy,” Tasha adds, pointing her chip toward Suzy.

  “Should I be jealous of this hot, single sexy guy?” Noah asks her.

  She rolls her eyes and grabs his hand. “Nooo, because you are my hot, not-single sexy guy. I’m looking for another one for Suzy.”

  “Ugh,” Suzy says. “Way too much flirting going on. I need a boyfriend, stat. You girls better help me.”

  “We’ll all help,” Lanie says, making a stern face that actually looks a little intimidating over the shadows of flames. “Guys, it is our mission to find Suzy a man.”

  Suzy laughs. “What, are you all like the Avengers of love?”

  “That sounds cool,” Brent says. “I dig it.”

  I laugh. “Well, we all found love within the last few months. It seems like you’re next on the list.”

  “We also found love at the gym,” Noah says. He’s still eating chips and talking like he has no table manners. “So you need to hang out at Roca Springs Fitness more often.”

  Suzy frowns. “Isn’t that place flooded?”

  Lanie is still sitting in my lap, and she leans over to talk to her friend, which makes her feel too far away. It’s hard not to wrap my arms around her and pull her closer to me, but I restrain myself. After all, there will be plenty of time to cuddle with her tonight after our friends have gone home.

  “Who knows,” Lanie says, giving her friend a devilish grin that makes my heart flutter. “Maybe you’ll meet a hot contractor.”

  Suzy snorts. “Maybe. Can we please change the subject now? I don’t like everyone talking about my non-existent love life.”

  “Sure,” Brent says. “Let’s talk about Kris’ love life instead.”

  “Huh?” I say, snapping to attention. I’ve been so busy staring at my gorgeous girlfriend that I haven’t really focused on what everyone is saying.

  Brent snickers. “I’ve never seen you so happy, dude. You’re like an entirely different guy.”

  I shrug. “Don’t blame me, blame Lanie.”

  “Hey!” Lanie says, crossing her arms over her chest like she’s offended. But she’s smiling, so it totally calls her bluff.

  I pull her toward me and kiss her. “Blame isn’t the right word… maybe I should have said thank Lanie.”

  She kisses me on the cheek. “That’s more like it.”

  I smile up at her, and she smiles at me, and all around the firepit my friends keep talking and having a good time. But all I see is her. All I can hear is her. Lanie is all I think about when I’m awake and all I dream about when I’m asleep.

  I haven’t told her yet, because it all feels way too soon, but what I’m feeling is unmistakably love.

  I love this girl.

  And I can’t wait to tell her that when the time is right.

  * * *

  Thank you for reading Flirting with the Bad Boy! If you enjoyed this novel, please consider leaving a quick review on Amazon.

  Don’t miss the next Love at the Gym novel, starring Lanie’s best friend Suzy! Coming soon!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Right Move

  Click here to get The Right Move on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited!

  Chapter 1

  Livi

  It doesn’t matter how bleak the day is. Eventually it turns to night, and then suddenly, I’m waking up again. I peel open my eyes slowly, not wanting the bliss of dreaming to end just yet. Dreaming is my favorite thing lately, because when I’m fast asleep I am anywhere I want to be. Just five more minutes, I think, as I close my eyes and snuggle into my pillow.

  I don’t know how much time passes when I shoot up like a fire dart in bed and check the time on my phone. It’s after ten o’clock in the morning. Grandma!

  In the next second, harsh reality doubles me over and I lean back against my fluffy, down feathered pillows, slinking back beneath the sheets with a cumbersome sigh. Here I am, a week later and I’m still waking up each morning thinking I need to jolt out of bed and gather Grandma’s morning pills, make her a mug of coffee, retrieve the newspaper from the driveway and help her change into an outfit for the day.

  Only this time, like every morning for the past week, Grandma is gone. Whatever needs she has now are out of my realm of expertise, passed on to whatever beautiful angels take care of her in the afterlife. I know that might be silly, but I like thinking of it that way. That Grandma isn’t gone, gone, she’s just having a much better time in a much better place. I glance out the window as the pain of missing her settles over me, a lead blanket I’m unable to shake. Looks like it’s going to be a bright, sunshiny type of day regardless of how much my heart hurts.

  A soft breeze ruffles the leaves in the tree outside my window. The dancing morning sunlight spills into my bedroom and scatters across the tired, sandy blonde wood floors below. It’s so cheerful and beautiful, this sunlight. It’s like the sun is mocking me, telling me to get over it. That’s not so easy. It’s been a week since I lost her. A whole seven days, and four more after the funeral. I lived with her for the last four years, and it’s going to take longer than a week to forget my morning routine.

  Well, I’m up now. I might as well jump into what’s familiar to me … routine and chores.

  Yawning, I morph into a glorious stretch and plant my bare feet on the cool floor. I wiggle my pink manicured toenails, a treat I gave to myself a few days before Grandma died. Although normally I’m a simple, no frills type of twenty-two-year-old female, I was in a good mood that day and thought I’d splurge. Grandma wasn’t feeling well, so I’d come home and painted her toenails myself. Funny, how you never know what sadness lies waiting for you around the corner.

  I shuffle to the kitchen and fumble through the pantry until I find my favorite Italian blend of coffee. I make a single cup since Grandma isn’t here anymore to enjoy the peaceful morning with me. She used to drink two or three cups in one sitting, and I was always refilling the coffee maker. She’s the reason I love coffee so much. I didn’t drink it much until I moved in with her and she took me under her wing, giving me the love and support I needed at the moment.

  Gazing out the window above the sink, I’m entranced by the splendor of a bright new day. If only Grandma was here to enjoy it with me. I hate how these thoughts are the first ones that come to mind. She practically raised me, and in the end, I took care of her. She was my best friend. My closest family member. It sounds kind of pathetic, I guess, but I’m lost without her.

  Grandma’s house is tucked away on two acres of land, off the beaten path and away from the suburbs. Off of the back porch a few yards away, there is a charming little duck pond that sits on the edge of her property. We used to take strolls around it back when she was feeling up to it, before her health started failing her.

  Today, it seems like any other ordinary day, only the void of her passing still lingers and swells in the tides of my heart. It’s been exactly a week since we buried my sweet
grandma. From ashes to ashes, dust to dust. That’s what my aunt on my mom’s side had said, when she had read her beautiful eulogy at the funeral. I didn’t hear the rest of the speech because I was crying too hard.

  I startle when the coffee pot beeps, announcing that my hot brew is finally ready. I grab my coffee mug that says, “The Alamo” in black letters with a picture of the structure on the side. Walking with the cup cradled in my hands, I take a leisurely stroll down the hallways of Grandma’s house, in nostalgic limbo of what to do next. It’s been like this every day since the funeral. I wake up, make coffee, and pace around, not really knowing what to do with my life.

  Oh, right…I forgot about the chores. I might as well get them over with before the day gets excruciatingly humid. Mable Falls, Texas in the springtime can either bring on relentless, shirt-soaking heat or a chill through your bones with a cold rain. It just depends on the day, really. Texas weather is like that.

  Either way, the magnolia trees that line the property are beautiful and blossoming with the buds of new white flowers and a fragrant aroma. Nature doesn’t mind the weather changes. Wandering around, I clean up a few dishes in the sink that I was too lazy and tired to wash last night. I wipe off the counters and distractedly sweep away the dirt and dust that leaves a subtle coating across the wood floors.

  I walk to the laundry room and put a load of clothes in. The sound of the water hitting the basin inside of the washer fills my ear drums, the only sound in the otherwise eerily quiet house. I take a deep breath and close the laundry room door behind me. Yes, it’s going to take quite a while for me to adapt to the silence around here.

  Perhaps I need to take up a hobby of some sort to keep my mind busy. Or, you know, get some friends? Friends might be a good idea.

  Grandma was the only person I had in the world, and now that she’s gone, a stagnant feeling of the in-between gnaws at my subconscious. My mom died from a lung infection when I was just a kid. Well, I was hardly a kid back then, but compared to now I suppose I could consider myself one at the time.

  Going through high school without a mom to support me, do my hair, or help me dress for prom had been a nightmare. I missed her so terribly, but the extra time I got with Grandma made the memories with my mom fuzzy. Grandma had a knack for keeping my mind preoccupied. She swiped the pain away like somebody ripping off a security blanket, but I needed to be hit with a fresh dose of reality at the time, and she knew it. Grandma had loved me unconditionally, and up until the day she died I had full confidence that she would have jumped in front of a train for me if it ever came down to it.

  I still remember coming home that fateful day of my freshman year. Mom had been sitting at the kitchen table, an antique that had been handed down from my grandmother on my dad’s side. A fresh arrangement of wild daisies sat in a white, ceramic milk jug in the center of the table, representing happiness.

  Only, as soon as I caught a glimpse of the expressions on my parent’s faces, I knew that all of the joy had been stolen from the room. My mother hung her head, her shoulders shook with sorrowful sobs. My father’s eyes were blotchy and blurry, giving away that he had been crying, too.

  My father never cried when I was growing up. Never saw the man reveal much of any emotions, unless he was watching a football game. As soon as they told me the terrible news, that my mother had an incurable lung infection, their words became muffled. I didn’t hear anything else.

  I was numb, for a long time. The pain was fresh, for years.

  Of course, it didn’t help matters any that my father left me a year later. He remarried to some big haired floosy who smelled like cigarettes and hair spray. It was as if my mom’s place in his life didn’t matter anymore. He’d swapped her out for some other woman and went on with his life.

  I never understood my dad’s attraction, or maybe it was infatuation, to his new wife Melinda. Either way, he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, and he’s nothing more than a stranger to me seven years later.

  Grandma kept me full, happy, and busy to say the least. Sure, I had ways to stay distracted and all, especially when Grandma started to succumb to her own health issues as she aged. Taking care of her was what I lived for. I had my day planned out to a tee. First, I would begin each day by helping her out of bed.

  Then, we would enjoy our cup of coffee and I would help her change into a pair of sweatpants.

  Grandma loved to do crossword puzzles in the morning while she scratched behind the ears of her beloved tabby cat, Felix. Felix is peach colored with white swirls intermixed. Honestly, he reminds me of a big fluffy piece of angel food cake. Felix didn’t like me much, but every time his cat food hit the metal bowl, he’d come running with gratitude at the sound. We lost him a year ago to old age. Now I’d love to have him back, if only to keep away the loneliness of this house.

  Grandma would be out on the front porch, enjoying the day and I would always come and retrieve her for her afternoon soap operas. I found Grandma’s love affair with the characters on those shows to be a bit silly, but whatever made her happy I was fine to go along with. Heck, my love life sucks so badly, maybe I need to start watching those dramatic romances as well.

  I would start afternoon supper around four o’clock, and would usually have it on the table around five. Grandma loved to eat vegetable beef soup and corn bread, even in the summer time. She was a pistol, and I will truly miss our conversations … some of which would stretch well into midnight. She always told me I’d find a wonderful guy one day. I always thought she was just trying to make me feel better, because I’m a pretty lost cause when it comes to love.

  Going back to the present, I climb into the outdated yet cozy pink tiled shower and stand here for what seems like hours, letting the steam fill the room. It spreads like a fog to cloud my emotions and the issues I don’t want to think about anymore. I allow the hot water to roll down my back, giving me more pleasure in that simple little act than anything else in my entire day.

  After I freshen up a bit, I pull a lavender t-shirt over my head and climb into my favorite pair of skinny jeans. By now, I know the mailman has already made his way down our long and winding drive, on his short route in our remote area in rural Texas.

  I throw on a pair of flip flops and open the front door, surprised to be hit with a gentle and welcoming breeze that flows through my hair and tickles the back of my neck. I walk to the mail box, taking my time because I love being outside, one with nature. The sky is a perfect light blue, and there are a few fluffy, soft clouds that move through the air, skirting across the canvas of the atmosphere.

  When I pull open the mailbox, it’s so full of envelopes, cards and magazines that a few pieces fall and plop down onto the overgrowing grass. Since I’ve been in mourning most of the week, I guess I’ve let the mail pile up, and the grass grow too long.

  I make a mental note to get back to the grind of the outdoor chores as well. Thankfully, there’s a riding lawn mower in the garage and I can handle it by myself. I’ve had to learn to do many things after my mom passed away.

  I thumb through the mail absentmindedly while I stroll back to the front porch and sink down into a rocking chair. I close my eyes and savor in the creaking sound the chair makes as it hits the wooden planks of the porch.

  I take a time out, a peaceful moment to engage with my own personal serenity and then I decide to jump right into the next task at hand … the mountain of mail that’s currently weighing in my lap.

  There are a ton of sympathy cards. Some from distant relatives, some from family members I just saw at the funeral. There’s a blend of both in there, among a few utility bills and a couple of Grandma’s favorite magazines like Southern Living and a Soap Opera Digest.

  I glance out at the horizon. What am I supposed to do now?

  Taking care of Grandma had been all I knew for so long, and now I don’t have to answer to anybody but myself. What did I want? Back before I quit my teenage life and came to take care of her? I don’t
even remember who I was back then.

  Real life plagues me, and frightens me when I think of having to scrape by and endure the struggle alone. All of my old friends are married now, or in committed relationships. They’ve graduated college or are pursuing master’s degrees and have lives that are totally different from mine. I haven’t even been on social media in months because every time I checked it, I felt further and further behind from my old life.

  I walk back inside and glance at my reflection in the mirror. My straight, short blonde hair falls into a perfect bob that sits just above my shoulders. My mom used to joke that I had the best hair ever because I never had to worry about it. It just stayed silky smooth all the time. When I was a kid, I didn’t think much of it, but now I know what she meant. I do have awesome hair. At least that’s one thing guys might find attractive about me.

  My brown eyes stare back at me expectantly as if I’m searching the window of my own soul for answers. Grandma always told me I didn’t have brown eyes, that I had chocolate colored eyes. She said that was a prettier word for a girl like me. I wasn’t regular, I was special. Of course, she might be the only person who thinks that.

  Grandma humbled me with her compliments, and fed me self-confidence that always ran to hide in the closet along with the dusty old jackets after her departure.

  I don’t have a job, because taking care of Grandma was my full time job. I only have one semester of college under my belt, because I gave up that dream when Grandma got sick and I moved in to be her caregiver.

  In the back of my mind, the idea of being a kindergarten teacher still has the ability to stretch a smile across my lips, but now it seems like an old dream that I am too tired to chase.

  I love children, and have a passion for teaching, but I have no real way to get started. I suppose I would have to sign up for college again and reapply for classes, but honestly the whole idea gives me an enormous headache and I can’t think about that right now.