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“Are you guys even trying? Come on. You can do better,” the instructor yells as if we’re trying to qualify for a spot in the Olympics.
I blow a strand of hair out of my face. This is pure hell. And to think I paid to get tortured like this.
“I need to see more sweat! If you’re not sweating, you’re not trying hard enough. Yes, that means you too.”
Is he looking at me? Good grief, please make this stop. I’m beyond sweating at this point. I’m soaked—and completely out of breath. But that’s not enough for Jason, the aerobics instructor currently yelling at me to sweat some more.
I glance at the others in my aerobics class. Some of these lunatics are still smiling. How is that even possible? When I signed up for this, I wanted to get in shape and lose some weight, not get tortured.
After what seems an eternity, we finish the routine he’s been teaching us. Relief floods over me, but then Jason cranks up the volume of his playlist and shouts, “One more time from the top people! Let that sweat drip! Give it all you’ve got and then some.”
Fucking hell. I just gave all that I’ve got. There’s nothing left inside me. Still, I push through. If that means collapsing by the end of this class, so be it. I won’t give up and let people think I’m a big fat loser who can’t reach the end of a one-hour aerobics class. Nu-uh.
“Great job, guys. See you all next week,” Jason says.
I shake my head. He must be some kind of superhero. His face isn’t red, his hair isn’t soaked with sweat, and he doesn’t have any trembling limbs. He looks like he just went for a relaxing stroll through the park. I, on the other hand, look like shit. How is that even fair?
I grab my towel and water bottle, ready to head to the showers, when he stops me in my tracks. “Hey, wait up. We need to talk.”
Talk? I don’t think I’m capable of that right now, but I’ll listen to what he has to say. At least I get to stare at the guy’s beautiful face and muscles while he speaks.
“Are you okay? You looked like you were having a tough time keeping up.”
Wow, way to rub it in, dude. “Um, sure. I’m good.” I take a deep breath. “Apart from almost dying during class, that is.”
I half expect him to laugh at me, but his face fills with concern. “May I ask why you decided to come to advanced aerobics?”
I shrug. “I want to get in shape. Plus, my sister’s getting married next month. If I don’t work out, I’ll never fit into the dress she picked for me.”
I shudder thinking about the sheath dresses she chose for her bridesmaids. They will look gorgeous on all her other friends—the thin ones—but not on me.
“Fair enough. It’s great that you want to work on getting in shape, but taking advanced classes might be pushing it. You need to start gently, build up some stamina, and not push your body too much.”
“This class was the only one still available,” I admit.
“Why don’t I check the other possibilities?”
I nod. “If you have time?”
“Of course, why don’t we sit down?”
He leads me to a table and shoves back a chair. I take a seat opposite him. He grabs a printed list with classes from his bag and reads it in silence, giving me time to study his face.
He’s a real looker. Square jaw, trimmed beard, unruly dark hair, and the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. I let my gaze travel further south. His shoulders nearly burst out of his shirt, which shouldn’t be a surprise since he’s a fitness pro. Still, his strength is so evident, it’s almost intimidating.
“Hmmm,” he says, still scanning the list.
“That doesn’t sound promising.”
“I’m afraid all our beginner’s classes are fully booked for the next few weeks.”
Damn. That means I either have to stop and won’t fit in my dress or be tortured like this twice a week. “And you can’t make an exception to fit me in?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry, no can do. It’s an insurance issue.”
I shrug. “That’s not your fault. I guess that happens when one fitness place caters to an entire small town.”
What am I going to do? If I’m honest, I know that staying in the advanced aerobics class will be the end of me.
Jason folds his hands and smiles. “I might have a solution for you.”
“Shoot.”
“You can hire me as your personal trainer.”
“I can’t afford that,” I say, knowing I don’t have the funds. Before booking this class, I looked up personal trainers online, and their prices are way out of my league. “It’s okay. I’ll go for a run a couple of times a day instead.”
Damn it. I can feel a tear pooling in my eye. The last thing I need is for this hot dude to see me crying over being unable to pay him.
“What’s wrong? Are you that set on exercising?”
I bite my lip. Should I level with him? Oh, what the hell, why not? He’s already seen me panting and sweating. “The other bridesmaids at my sister’s wedding are all so perfect. I hoped I could get in shape in four weeks. No one wants to see this in a dress,” I say, motioning to my curves.
“Um, what? Why wouldn’t you look stunning in a dress?”
“Are you not seeing all this excess weight on me?” I ask half-jokingly. “Maybe you should get a pair of glasses.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I applaud you for wanting to get in shape, but please don’t let anyone fat shame you.”
I cringe. There. He said it. I’m fat.
His big hand lands on mine, and it feels amazing. “Look, I can help you. I only want to know you’re doing this for you and not for other people. Who cares what they think? It’s all subjective. I, for one, think you’re fucking gorgeous.”
A blush spreads over my cheeks. He’s probably bullshitting me to get me to hire him, but it’s good to hear him say something so sweet. “Even if that’s true, I still can’t afford your services.”
He grins at me, making my insides all squishy. “Why don’t you tell me what kind of prices you can afford, and I’ll think it over.”
I frown. “You want to give me a discount? Why?”
“Because I like how determined you are. I knew you were suffering in class, but you pushed through. Not a lot of people would do that.”
I give myself a few moments to mull over his offer. In the end, I decide to go for it. What other choice do I have? Besides, it wouldn’t be a punishment to work with him. On the contrary, spending so much time with the guy would be fun.
Another man steps inside and waves at Jason. He looks up, then throws me an apologetic smile. “That’s Knox, my next client. I’ve got to run.” He scribbles something on a piece of paper and shoves it toward me. “Here’s my number. Call me when you’ve made up your mind.”