Trained By Daddy by Ava Sinclair
Chapter Five
Lila
Workouts aresweet torture that leave me sore and tired, but three weeks in I’m already seeing results. I’m starting to get muscle definition where there was none before. I’m not losing as much weight as I had expected, but Gabe doesn’t seem concerned.
“Don’t focus on the weight,” he’d said one day. “Focus on your strength. Whoever told you that being skinny was better than being the way you are was wrong. Not every man is looking for a skinny girl.”
“What makes you think I’m looking for a man?” I’d asked.
He’d looked chagrined. “You’re right,” he’d said. “Forgive me, Lila. I’m sure a girl like you probably already has some very appreciative guy at home, anyway.”
“It’s okay,” I’d said, charmed by his assumption. “You’re wrong, though. I haven’t had a lot of luck finding appreciative guys. I don’t think it has anything to do with my weight, though. It’s more…” My words had trailed off, but then I’d felt a surge of uncharacteristic boldness. If he could make personal assumption, so could I. “You probably have someone you appreciate, so you naturally think other men are as understanding.”
“No.” He’d shaken his head. “I’m single.” He’d paused. “I’m holding out for someone, someone special.”
Another trainer had walked in with a question then, interrupting the conversation. It was towards the end of the workout and I had to leave, but I did so with a spring in my step, thrilled to know that Gabe was single even though it felt silly to be excited. I was still a slowly shaping up girl who couldn’t hold a candle to the beautiful women who cast openly hungry looks in his direction whenever he passed them in the gym.
“Hey, Gym Daddy.” Some of them would offer a wink along with the greeting. Gabe always smiles when he returns their greeting; he has the nicest smile, the kind of smile that inspires hope in a woman. So, I’ve been keeping his kind words and single status in perspective.
The fantasies, though, have come back with a vengeance. I deal with them in in secret. At night I continue writing the story in which the character based on him is the sexy daddy to the character I’ve based on myself. In this way, I continue the torture on my body even when I’m not at the gym. Since I don’t intend to publish this, I pull out all the stops and write deeper and darker scenes than I’ve ever let myself imagine. Gabe has become the subject upon which I can fix my basest desires and as much as I tell myself it’s not proper, I can’t bring myself to stop.
My justification is that this is therapeutic, that I can purge myself of need by writing about a relationship that will never happen. Even if Gabe did go for a woman like me, as soon as he discovered what turns me on, he’d run the other way.
But we still have one thing in common, and that’s my fitness goals. I’m proud of myself as I mentally prepare for the workout that will cap off my third week of training. I’m looking forward to seeing Gabe. I feel like we’ve become friends, even if we only talk at the gym. We discuss our favorite movies, music, and travel spots. He makes me laugh. A few times I’ve caught him looking at me and once or twice he acted as if he were about to ask me something and then stopped.
I head to the gym straight from the Department of Motor Vehicles, where I spent over half my day waiting to renew my license. Fortunately, I’d brought my computer, so the afternoon wasn’t entirely wasted. By the time my number was called I’d managed to catch up on emails, update my Web site and start my weekly newsletter.
I’m running a few minutes behind, but when I call the gym Melanie, the receptionist, tells me that Gabe had a client come in late so he’s behind schedule, too. She asks me if I’d mind waiting for thirty minutes. I tell her that’s fine. At the gym, I change into my gym clothes and go sit on a row of chairs in the alcove down the hall from the workout room where members sometimes to gather to chat. It’s empty today, though, and I don’t mind waiting. I can get more work done before the workout.
I’m nearly finished with my newsletter when I hear Gabe’s voice on the other side of the nearest door. I shut the file and as soon as I go back to my desktop my gaze falls on the file for the tawdry gym story. A fresh wave of guilt washes over me. Gabe has been so kind to me. We’re becoming friends. I shouldn’t be writing about him, no matter what the justification.
In that moment I make the decision to delete the story, but before I can, the door opens. Startled, I slam the laptop shut just as a woman emerges from the room. Gabe is at her side. They walk past me, unaware of my presence, and stop about ten feet away.
“We had some good times, didn’t we?” The woman is smiling at him. She’s pretty and pert, her blonde hair fashioned in a pixie cut. “Do you ever think of trying again? Working out with you just now made me remember how good we were together, Gabe, how powerful.” She gives him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Surely being Gym Daddy doesn’t take up so much time that you’ve forgotten how much fun it is to get physical with me.”
“Oh, no. I haven’t forgotten.” He sighs. “And honestly, you’re in better form than you were then.”
“So are you.” She steps closer to him. “Come on. She squeezes his muscular forearm. “Don’t make me beg. You know you want this just as bad as I do. What do you say? Next weekend?”
He shakes his head and laughs. “Yeah. It’s a date. Just don’t laugh if you wear me out. It’s been a while.”
“Awesome.” She stands on her tiptoes and gives him a peck on the cheek. “I can’t wait. I need this, Gabe. We both do.”
I pull back into my chair so that they can’t see me. My hands are shaking as I turn to shove my laptop into the bag on the chair beside me. Tears burn my eyes. I feel like a fool. I can make anything happen in a book, but in life I’m the punchline in my own story. For the past three weeks, I’ve been crushing like a schoolgirl on the sexiest man I’ve ever met while reading more into his friendliness than he intended. Just when I find out he’s single, he makes plans to get together with some old flame who is my exact opposite. I swallow the lump in my throat. Should I really be surprised? He’s just done what any good trainer does. He’s been building my confidence along with my muscles. It’s his job. I’m his job.
“Hey Lila.” Gabe stops as he walks back by. “I didn’t even see you sitting there.”
“Yeah…I was waiting,” I say, leaning over to pretend to tie my shoe. I don’t want to look at him. I can’t.
“Okay,” he says in his usual cheery tone. “Let’s get going. It’s leg day. I’ll be in the weight room.”
I stand and follow as if in a fog. In the room, he tells me to start stretching like he always does, but I can’t stretch. I can barely move. I feel frazzled. I also feel oddly betrayed, even though I shouldn’t. But mostly, I just feel like an idiot.
“Are you okay?” Gabe looks over at me.
“I’m fine.” My answer is curt.
“Are you sure?” He stands from where he was kneeling by the barbell rack. “You look upset, Lila.”
“I said I’m fine.” I look down at my watch. “I’m just in a hurry.”
“I’m sorry I was running late, Lila. I had an unexpected booking I couldn’t ignore. I thought I could squeeze her in, but it ran long.”
“Yeah.” I bite back the words I want to say. Angry words. Spiteful words about the beautiful woman in the hallway, the one who obviously can’t be ignored. Gabe’s old flame, still hot as ever judging by the plans he’s made.
“Wait. No.” I decide on the spot that I can’t do this. “Sorry, but I think I should leave, Gabe. I’m not feeling this today.”
“Why? Are you sore?” He steps closer. “Where? Sometimes movement helps…”
I back away from him. I want to scream that my muscles are fine; it’s my heart that hurts but I can’t tell him because he has no idea how I feel. A bubble of anxiety rises in my chest. Years ago, I suffered regular panic attacks and still recognize the signs of one coming on. If I stay, I’ll make things worse... If I stay, I’ll cry.
“I’ll be fine. I just have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
That’s a lie, though. I’m not coming back. I rush out, grabbing the gym bag from the alcove chair on the way to the door. I take the back entrance out since I’m sure he expects me to go out the front. I don’t look back as I drive my car from the lot. The tears hit me just as I enter traffic. I’m filled with disappointment, both in the situation and in myself for my misplaced, idiotic crush. When I hit the construction bottleneck, the cars ahead of me come to a stop and I sob into the steering wheel like a child. And that’s what I feel like, a lonely little girl in need of love she’ll never have.
