The sky is a bright blue without a single cloud in the sky as I pull up to Adam’s house—or should I say my new gym?
I’m trying to maintain my excited optimism, but the nervous flutter in my stomach is a stark contrast to the steady rhythm of the upbeat music blaring from my car’s speakers.
Taylor Swift’s “The Man” can only hype me up so far, turns out.
We’ve reached our first official training session at his place, and I’m not really sure how I feel.
I mean, it’s not like exercise has been a BFF up to this point.
Stepping out of the car, I take a deep breath, trying to quell the butterflies. But it’s no use. They keep multiplying.
Adam’s already at the door, waving me in with a warm smile that does something to my heart. He’s dressed in his own workout gear this morning—a tight-fitting white tank top and gym shorts.
From here, he’s absolutely drool-worthy.
“Morning, Carlie. Ready to get started?” he asks when I get close enough, his voice laced with a playful edge that somehow manages to ease my nerves a bit. I don’t know how he does it.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I reply, hoping my attempt at confidence is more convincing than I feel. I should have played “The Man” one more time.
Inside, the now familiar scent of his home—a mix of citrus and something uniquely Adam—fills my senses. He leads me past his living room, which no longer has all of the pillows or candles laid about. As I walk past, I can’t help but smile at the memory of date number two.
He has such a sweet, romantic side that I can’t help but swoon over.
“Do you need water? Coffee before we get started?” he asks over his shoulder.
I shake my head. “No, I’m good. Drank a whole carafe of coffee before I got here. If anything, I’ll need the directions to the bathroom soon.” I slap a hand over my mouth, mortified I let that one slip out.
He just huffs a sexy laugh and points down the hall. “Well, it’s right there when you need it.”
I nod like an idiot and follow him to the workout area. He’s converted what looks like an old garage into a workout space most people would dream of. It’s neat and well-organized, much like Adam himself.
“Okay, may as well stick to what we know, right? Let’s start with some basic stretches to get you limbered up,” he instructs, taking on his professional tone. It instantly reminds me of that first day at St. Mary’s.
God, it feels so long ago.
I nod, trying once again to mirror his movements as he demonstrates but feeling more like a clumsy imitation of a graceful swan—if the swan had two left feet and zero flexibility.
“I’m not exactly the poster child for agility,” I joke, wobbling slightly as I reach for my toes.
Adam chuckles, stepping closer to assist. “Don’t worry, you’re doing great. Flexibility comes with practice. And to be honest, your hamstrings are more limber than mine.”
His hands are warm as they guide me gently. I’m suddenly acutely conscious of every point of contact—hell, every breath.
Who knew working out when you’re ridiculously attracted to your workout partner is a challenge in itself?
Adam’s reassurance is like a balm to my jittery nerves, but it doesn’t quite stop the heat from flooding my cheeks.
“Thanks,” I mutter softly, trying to focus on the stretch rather than the way his fingers are sending jolts of energy straight to my lady bits.
“We’ll start with a total body workout today,” Adam explains as we move to the next stretch. “Nothing too intense, just some light movements to get you acclimated. Plus, this way it should help you with soreness tomorrow.”
“Good.” I nod, following his lead as we go through a series of lunges and squats.
Each movement is accompanied by Adam’s gentle guidance, his voice calm and encouraging. It’s a stark contrast to the militaristic drill sergeant—aka Jillian.
Adam’s approach is patient, almost ... intimate.
I can’t tell if it’s because it’s us—and we’re in his house. Or if this is the way he’s always been with me. My head’s a whirlwind of citrus and sweat and it’s messing with all operational systems of thought, if I’m honest.
As we move into more complex exercises, I find myself alternating between trying to impress him and trying not to fall flat on my face. Neither is going as I’d hoped.
“I didn’t realize I signed up to be on stage for a comedy show,” I quip, nearly losing my balance during some forward lunges.
“You’re doing better than you think,” Adam assures me, his hand at my back steadying me. “Remember our first session at the gym? You’ve come a long way.”
His words bring a genuine smile to my face, and for a moment, I feel a sense of pride. Me, Carlie the Clutz, actually making progress. Who knew?
We move into a series of squats, and I’m half expecting my knees to give out, but surprisingly, they hold up.
“Hey, look at me, not collapsing into a heap. That’s progress, right?” I say, trying to keep the mood light.
Adam laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Definitely progress. You might be a natural at this one.”
I roll my eyes playfully. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
My stupid brain goes back to what Vivian said about him getting turned on by squats and I can’t help but sneak glances at Adam to see if he’s watching.
Of course, he is.
But I’m too afraid to sneak glances elsewhere.
Next, Adam introduces me to some dumbbell exercises.
“We’ll keep the weights light. It’s all about form and control today. We can increase the weight later,” he instructs, demonstrating a bicep curl and pointing out the correct form.
I mimic his movements, feeling slightly less awkward with each rep. The dumbbells are light, but I start to feel the burn, a sign that my muscles are actually doing something.
“I feel powerful. Like I could take on the world ... or at least a small cat,” I mutter through my reps.
Adam chuckles, his gray eyes sparkling with encouragement. “You’re doing great. Feeling powerful is exactly what we’re aiming for. That small cat doesn’t stand a chance.”
I can’t help the way my lips twitch and a full smile spreads across them.
When we wrap up the weights portion, Adam announces, “Let’s finish with some light cardio to boost your heart rate. Then we can cool down.”
“Okay,” I say, suggesting he show the way.
He leads me through a series of exercises that feel more like a dance than a workout—step touches, light jogging in place, and even some playful jumping jacks.
I can’t help but laugh as I try to keep up, feeling like a flailing octopus.
Adam laughs along with me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “See? Working out can be fun.”
I’m panting slightly, but there’s a smile on my face. “I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I’m actually enjoying this.”
He grins, looking satisfied. “That’s the goal. Tomorrow we’ll focus on upper body, but for today, you did great.”
“Thanks.” I beam.
“Let’s wind down with some more stretching to keep those muscles from tightening up. Then, we’ll be done for today,” he says, pointing to the mat where we started.
“Oh, okay.” I nod, surprised and a little sad that the session is over so quickly. Then I glance at the clock and realize it’s nearly been an hour and a half.
Well, bowl me over.
We go through a new series of stretches, and I find myself increasingly aware of how close we are. It’s like the partner yoga in a lot of ways.
However, the way Adam looks at me, it makes me feel seen—in a way that’s both exhilarating and a little terrifying. There’s an easy back-and-forth between us, peppered with laughter and occasional physical contact that sends tingles up my spine.
With each touch, whether it’s a gentle correction or a supportive pat, the air between us seems to crackle with electricity.
“I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but I had a lot of fun working out today,” I say, panting slightly but grinning.
He smiles back, his eyes softening. “I’m glad to hear that. You did amazing. I’m really proud of you.”
If a heart could expand to twice its size, I swear, mine just did.
There’s a moment where we just stand there, looking at each other, the air thick with unspoken words.
Finally, Adam breaks the silence. “So, what’s next for you today?”
I sigh, thinking of the mountain of writing I have to tackle. “Shower, then barricade myself in my writing cave. Deadlines wait for no one, unfortunately. I guess that’s why they’re called deadlines.”
Adam’s eyes hold a hint of mischief. “You’re welcome to use my shower if you like. I promise I won’t peek … much.”
I feel a flush rise to my cheeks, but a laugh bursts from me. “That is one tempting offer, but I think I better pass. I need all my willpower for writing, not fending off charming men.”
He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. But if you change your mind …”
An involuntary shudder rolls through me and I could so visualize that scene.
Hot and sweaty woman who’s falling for her sexy, muscular trainer takes a shower at his place … only to have wild and crazy sex against the shower door.
I step closer, rising to my tiptoes, so I can plant a quick kiss on his lips before I can enact the scene. “Thanks for everything, Adam. Really.”
His expression softens, and he runs his knuckles softly across my cheek. “Anytime, Carlie. It was my pleasure.”
With a deep sigh, I gather my things. Part of me really wants to take him up on that offer, but I’m almost afraid to confirm—or hell, even find out he’s not the man from Nocté.
In some weird way, both bring me anxiety.
“Same time tomorrow?” I ask, turning back to him.
“Absolutely,” he confirms, his eyes lingering on me a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
Inhaling some confidence from his glance, I make my way back to his front door. Adam follows a step behind and I can feel his presence radiate off of him like a soothing, delectable blanket that wants to embrace you.
When I get to the front door, I turn around and quickly step up to kiss him. Before either of us can get too invested, I step away and open the door. My lips curve into a smile I hope says, ‘mysterious woman on the run’ and not ‘woman scared shitless of her past.’
He stands in the doorway, watching me with his own lopsided smile—hair mussed up and lit by the sunlight.
As I walk to my car, the cool air does little to soothe the warmth spreading through me. My mind is a whirlpool of thoughts, each one about Adam and the undeniable connection building between us.
It’s no longer just about the training sessions—that went out the window the second we partnered for yoga, I think.
No, there’s something deeper forming between us … something I can’t quite put my finger on, but it’s there, palpable and thrilling.
I just need to get my head sorted around this Nocté thing.
As I slide into the driver’s seat, I let out a long breath, trying to calm my racing heart. Slowly, I turn on my vehicle and back out of his driveway.
He’s still standing at the door, watching me leave, and for a moment, our eyes lock. Even from this distance, I feel the intensity of his gaze, a silent promise of something yet to come.
I wave and as I drive away, a part of me longs to turn back, to run into his arms and explore this budding relationship without fear or hesitation. But the other part—the one that’s been hurt and cautious, holds me back.
The road ahead is unclear, but one thing is for certain—Adam is no longer just my trainer. He’s become a vital part of my world, and I’m both exhilarated and terrified by the depth of my feelings for him.
I turn up the volume on the radio, letting Taylor Swift’s “The Man” fill the car once more, but this time, it’s not about hyping myself up. It’s about drowning out the questions, the doubts, and the fears.
As I head home, a single thought echoes in my mind: What if Adam is the man from Nocté?
The possibility sends a shiver down my spine. The truth, whatever it may be, is out there, and I’m not sure I’m ready to face it.
But ready or not, the truth has a way of revealing itself, and I can’t help but wonder—when it does, will it bring us closer together or tear us apart?