While living here for the last few months, I've been training with Foster. He's encouraged me to learn self-defense moves and strengthen my body. It's been empowering and energizing to hit the gym several times a week. Today, I wake up feeling high anxiety and need to burn off some energy, so I go down to the gym by myself.
When they told me there was a gym in the house, I expected a treadmill, bench, and some weights, but there's so much more. In addition to all the equipment you can imagine, a boxing bag hangs from the ceiling and mats on the floor. I don't know why this surprised me, knowing that fitness is a big part of Foster's job and Cole needs a place for his workouts.
My goal is to get a little cardio in. I get on one of the bikes and start my playlist. I want to quiet my brain for at least thirty minutes before finding something else to do.
Cole has been away for a week at training camp and still has one more week to go before coming home. Then it’s on to the preseason games. Talon's album was a huge hit, breaking all kinds of streaming records. He's been back in LA the past few days, doing interviews and sold-out shows. I'm so happy for them and their successes, but that small part of my brain fears having them far away from me. They have constantly communicated, reassuring me when I need to hear from them, but our history rears its head and makes me anxious.
When my time is up on the bike, my legs feel like jelly. I get off and sit on a bench to decide what to do next. I’m considering starting yoga when the door opens and Foster strolls in.
"Hi, pretty girl. I thought I might find you here. What are you up to?"
"At the moment, trying to get my feeling back in my legs."
"We can do some one-on-one if you feel up to it."
I agree, so Foster lays down mats for us. My brain stutters when he pulls his t-shirt off, one-handed over his head, and he’s left in just his basketball shorts. He catches me looking and smirks.
The bastard knows what he's doing.
I can’t even hate myself for ogling. His body is a sculpted work of art.
I grin back at him and decide to have a little fun, too. I slowly pull off my baggy t-shirt, exposing my black sports bra and bike shorts. Then I take a drink from my water bottle, letting some drip from my mouth and run down my chin to my chest. From the corner of my eye, I watch him track the water down to where it stops at my bra. Two can play this game.
"Ready?' I ask as Foster gapes.
He pulls himself together, "Yeah. I've been watching some YouTube videos and found new moves I’d like to try.”
"I'm game," I reply.
We run through what Foster has ready and others we have already been through. After we're done, I starfish on the mats, dead on my feet. My muscles are screaming, but my brain's clear.
Foster plops down next to me, holding the water bottle. "You're looking good. I'm confident you could win any catfight and maybe a mugger on the street."
I struggle to sit beside him, take the water and drain it. "Thank you, but I'm not sure of that. I'm more of a freezer in a life-or-death situation."
"You might surprise yourself now that your muscles know what to do. Yoga time now?"
I look down at myself, "More like shower time."
Before I can think, I'm on my back again, pinned beneath Foster.
"That's a shame. I was hoping to bend you into fun positions," he says as he starts kissing down my jaw and to my neck.
"Ewww, we can't get sexy. I'm sweaty, and I probably stink," I tell him.
That doesn't stop him from continuing to kiss down my neck to my chest. When his fingers slide down my bra strap, I stop him. "No, I want to shower first."
He hefts a big, dramatic sigh. "Fine, we'll go take a shower."
He helps me off the mats and we run to my room together.
I get out of the shower with Foster right behind me. Before I can finish drying off, he scoops me up and drops me on the bed. He’s about to jump on there with me when my phone rings. Foster changes course and grabs it off the nightstand. He shows me the screen. It's a video call from Cole.
I want Foster so badly, but I don’t like to miss my daily call with Cole. It’s a dilemma. I could always rush through with Foster and hope Cole can talk when I call him back.
Foster recognizes my struggle. ”Answer it,” he tells me and hands me the phone.
I prop myself on a couple of pillows against the headboard and angle my camera so I won’t be able to tell I’m naked because we haven’t taken that step in person yet.
