to say something witty, something that will detract from the way I look, something that will make her see me and not the blubbery loser I suddenly feel like.
“I ... I need to … workout,” I say, for once at a loss for words. She wipes the towel across her brow, and my attention falls to her thin and taut arms. I’ve only seen her in her work clothes, but this skimpy skintight cropped leggings, and crop top, reveals her slim and shapely body.
Standing in my gym shorts and T-shirt I’ve never felt so self-conscious of my body before.
Or so turned on in months.
“Do you want me to go?” she asks.
“Go where?”
“Leave. If you’d rather have the gym to yourself.”
I would rather have the gym to myself, but only because I feel twenty pounds heavier than I should be and I don’t want her to see me. But since she’s already here, it would be selfish of me to tell her to leave. “Shouldn’t be a problem. It’s big enough for the both of us.”
“I’ll get back to it, then,” she says, getting ready to get back down on the mat again.
“What was that?”
“Warming up,” she replies.
“That was warming up?”
“That was downward dog.”
“A downward what?”
“Downward dog,” she explains, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s a yoga pose.”
I suck my belly in and try to get my belly button as close to my spine as I can, hoping that I can smoothe out the curve of my belly. She picks up her bottle of water and takes a huge gulp from it, still staring at me. She unnerves me. This is my house, albeit rented, yet I feel unsure of myself, especially here in the gym which isn’t my domain.
As she continues to drink, I stand there, unsure of what I should do next. I was supposed to do some push ups, but given that I looked like a beached whale last time, with Trevor standing over me as I killed myself doing them, I decide not to put myself in such an embarrassing position, especially since she’s here.
I glance around the room, desperate to find something quickly that I can start using.
The treadmill.
Get on the treadmill.
I head over to that and set a speed that I can handle easily. Trouble is, she’s directly in my line of sight. Now she’s straddling a bench and drawing down the weights bar. My attention is drawn to her lithe taut arms as she pulls and lets go of it. I can’t help but notice her breasts as she brings the bar to chest level and pushes up.
If I’m not careful she’s soon going to see the evidence of my arousal.
This is awkward.
Worse, compared to her, I’m so out of shape. A picture of her and Trevor laughing about me flashes in front of me. I hate being around people and I hate this most of all—being in the fucking gym, looking like an overweight loser.
I try not to glance at her, but I can’t help myself. I look away, trying casually to find another machine I can use that’s far from her.
I consider using weights. Giving a display of my strength, and then I wonder why the hell I’m even thinking of something like that. I would look ridiculous. No weights, yet. Nothing too fast, and nothing that requires me doing push ups.
I decide to use the vertical climber machine which Trevor said would be good to use. The beauty of this is that she’s not in my direct line of sight and hence won’t be the distraction she’s currently being.
I’m on it for about five minutes, thinking about my story and trying to plan what chapters I need to focus on later. But my attention is once again diverted by the sight of Mari on the floor, on the same mat again only now she’s doing push ups. I can see her from the reflection in the mirror.
She makes it look really easy, too.
I narrow my eyes wondering if she’s doing this on purpose because I fired the trainer. They were both laughing at my pathetic attempts.
My body tenses. Irritated, I look at my machine display. I’ve barely done much, but I’ve had enough. I already hate using the gym but the housekeeper being here has pissed me off.
Just as I step off it, she walks past me with her belongings.
“Is that it?” she asks in surprise.
It’s the condescending tone in her voice that grates on me more