Her pink lips part, and I’d swear her face reddens. With a jerk of her head, she says, “Plank.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Plank. Come on. Let’s see who can last the longest.”
I look around, at the ground covered in pine needles and rocks, surrounded by thousands of fir trees of all sizes. “There’s no mats out here.”
“Afraid that’ll make you lose?”
I chuckle. “Darling, I’m not going to lose.”
That gets her to grit her teeth. Am I playing with fire? Maybe, but she’s so damn fun to rile up.
“Then get on your forearms and pray you don’t die.”
“Fine,” I say, watching her as I get into position, ignoring the dig of the rocks against my forearms. I’ve seen my fair share of competitive people in my years of playing hockey, but I’m not sure I’ve ever met one like her.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Already in position.”
I shake my head, then join her in the exercise.
A crow caws in the trees as I start counting. I’m not sure why I do it since it’s a last-one-standing kind of thing, but I hope it’ll help time go faster.
Except the only thing it succeeds in doing is making me see just how slow time passes when you’re in a fucking plank.
Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, a hundred…
I look up from the ground, my abs on fire, pulse throbbing in my throat. Meanwhile, Lexie looks like she’s going for a walk in the park. Not a single bead of sweat on her flawless skin, cool as a cucumber.
How is that even possible?
With her head facing the ground, she says, “I don’t even need to look up to know your position is shit. Lower that butt.”
I keep silent but do as she says. No way will I admit she had a point.
What a dumb fucking thing I signed myself up for. When was the last time I did some proper abdominal exercises? I might be in good enough shape because of my often-active job, but I’m no athlete. Who was I kidding?
I’m not giving up, though. Not yet.
Another full minute passes, and my condition goes from bad to worse. Sweat is dripping down my nose, I can’t feel my elbows anymore, and I’m fairly certain I’m a few seconds away from throwing up the lunch I ate five hours ago.
“I’ve been doing weekly drills of these since I was four years old,” Lexie says, her voice not even strained. “I can do this all day if I need to.”
Fuck.
Twenty drawn-out, never-ending seconds pass, and yep, that’s Martina’s enchiladas coming up.
In the end, I don’t make the choice to give up. My body does it for me, arms giving out under me, making me fall face first into the ground, rocks embedding themselves in my cheek, the cherry on top of the humiliation.
“Done already?” she says, humor clear in her voice.
I grunt. Everything hurts.
“Well, glad we were able to settle this debate,” she says as she gets up and wipes her hands against her thighs, gravel crunching under her feet. “Let me know if you ever need another piece of humble pie.” She ends the sentence by giving my shoulder two little taps. “Have a good evening,darling.”
I remain on the ground for longer than I care to admit.
