Page 2 of Unraveling with You
With Josh’s placating nod at Liam, I’m left alone with my new trainer. Chasing after his wide strides through a row of treadmills, I meet eyes with another woman. She politely smiles at my weak grin, her brisk jog swishing her blonde ponytail from side to side with every muscled step. I look nothing like her.
“You’ve never been to the gym before, have you?” Josh doesn’t turn around, but of course he’s talking to me. He’s so loud about it that a man loading ginormous weights onto a bar glances at us.
I drop my stare to my feet. “No, I haven’t.”
Josh stops. I almost crash into his back, side-stepping just in time for him to turn and face me.
He crosses one arm, leaving the other free to give my body a sweeping gesture. “You can’t wear that to a gym. It’s way too baggy.”
My heart stings. Why did Gabby say it was fine to dress however I wanted? Josh is right; there are only silent, focused people working out in tight-fitted outfits all around me.
I swallow hard, doing my best to soften my quivering lungs. “Okay. Sorry.”
Josh steps behind a long row of dumbbell weights. I’ve at least used those before, so my shoulders relax. But then he looks at me straight on. My stomach plummets. I don’t know why I’m so sensitive, but I can’t stop feeling like he’s judging everything about me.
“Are you a beginner?” He asks in a low voice.
I don’t like how closely he’s looking at me. I drop my eyes again, unable to stop a defensive quip from escaping my lips. “I-I’ve used those types of weights before.”
“I meant at working out. You probably haven’t made any goals for what you’d like to accomplish here, right?”
Shame prickles my hot cheeks. All I can do is shake my head.
Josh drops a wide dumbbell back onto the rack with a loudclang, and I jump. He turns to the mirror, and I dare to peek at him. But we meet eyes in the reflection. I’ve never felt so small beside anyone - other than my dad.
Josh turns to me, but I keep staring into the mirror. I didn’t realize how many people could see me, but with every wall covered by mirrors or windows, all sides of my body are plastered across the room. There’s nowhere to look that won’t meet someone’s focus, and I can see my own ass on display for everyone behind me in these see-through, old leggings. What the hell was I thinking, wearing this? Tugging the back of my baggy jacket, I bite my lips, struggling to still my short, rapid breath.
“Alright, so here’s the plan then. Women like you usually want a slimmer waist and thighs and to boost their backside.” Josh vaguely gestures to my ass, and a sharp, painful sting wracks my heart.
As Josh launches into an explanation about what exercises will help me achieve “my goals,” I tuck tighter into myself. Maybe I do want a perkier butt, but I didn’t think anything was wrong with my waist or thighs. Actually, I worked hard not to hate them my whole life, even though I have other issues with my body. Can people really see how weak I am with one look at me?
Josh checks his watch. “We’ve already used up five minutes. Let’s start with a warm-up.”
Following Josh through simple stretches, jumping jacks, and short jogs in place to get my heart racing, my nerves settle. I can do this. It’s not as taxing as expected, so maybe my job has helped me retain my endurance better than I hoped. I almost forget we’re not alone.
Until I happen to make eye contact with the man loading yet another set of weights on the machine behind us. He isn’t jacked the same way as Josh, but he’s broad. Sturdy and solemn. Tattoos coat his light olive skin, peeking from his sweaty t-shirt to trace down his arms and up his Adam’s apple. Some people are afraid of people with tattoos, but as someone who took refuge among alternative-dressed teens growing up, I feel safer just looking at him. When he turns his back to me to sit on his machine, he lifts his eyes to meet mine a second time in the mirror. My heart flips.
“Are you paying attention?” Josh snaps.
I jolt, wobbling through a lunge now that we’ve added dumbbells. Josh catches me, righting me by the shoulder.
“Sorry, can you repeat that?” I ask.
“Turn around. Stop looking at other things,” he says. I quickly spin, facing Josh’s glare in the mirror closest to us. “I said you’re losing focus and losing your balance because of it. Start over, and get your head straight.Focus.” His voice raises into a yell, and adrenaline bites my core. “You want to get stronger, don’t you? I don’t see you lunging.”
Tightening my sweaty hold on the dumbbells, I huff through my mouth, unable to breathe deeply enough through my nose as I restart my lunges.
Now that Josh analyzes me twice as viciously, every little thing I do feels wrong. Are my feet straight? Using the mirror to check my reflection, I tuck my left heel in to make it parallel to my thigh. It throws my rocky balance off just enough to make me wobble.
“Straighten up, come on,” Josh says.
My heart hammers into my throat. I rock between my dumbbells, chasing my uneven weight distribution until each lunge bends into a smooth equilibrium. Finally, I look like I know what I’m doing. Relief floods my chest.
But Josh isn’t impressed. “This is what happens when you let yourself go like that. You have no sense of balance. You need to work harder.”
Heat flushes my eyes.
Oh, no, no, no. I can’t cry.
