Jared and I saw the sign in front of the change rooms and stopped.
'This might be a problem, Brooke,' he said, scratching his head as he read the hastily scrawled notice taped to the stand that usually stood at the front entrance.
I had to agree. It seemed that in the amount of time it took for us to finish our workout - and it was a short one today, only forty five minutes - a water main for the building complex had broken and shower facilities were not available at the moment. It wasn't going to be a problem for the gym; it was nine thirty in the morning, and there were less than a dozen people in working out, Jared and I included. However, it was going to be a problem for us. I'd just spent thirty minutes hauling ass up sixty flights on the Stairmaster, and Jared had run five or six kilometres. I glanced at the young Asian man beside me, and sure enough, he was still sweating, mopping his face with a towel. I probably didn't look much better; my ponytail was sticking to the back of my neck and I could still feel the flush in my face.
'Well...' I said slowly, an idea flowing into my mind. It started in that region below my solar plexus, past my stomach, at that point where my legs met, which were starting to warm up...and not from the exercise. Jared was looking at me, a bemused expression on his face. There was no going back now, so I took a deep breath and plunged forward. 'Well, I live, like, five minutes away. Tyson is at school, obviously, so we could just shower at my place.' I didn't need to mention that Tyson's dad, the loser, hadn't been seen in years.
Jared didn't say anything; the smile spreading across his face said it all.
'Obviously, not - there are two bathrooms in the townhouse, Jared. Stop laughing!' I swatted him, lightly, across the legs with my towel.
'I'm sorry,' he said. He was still, laughing, the jerk. The smile crinkled up the corners of his almond shaped eyes, the laughter warming them up like soft caramel.
'I'm sorry,' he said again, wiping his eyes and catching my hand before I could hit him one more time. 'It's just so much fun to see you awkward.'
Unfortunately, it wasn't the first time I'd made an ass of myself in front of Jared. I wasn't clumsy physically - in fact, I thought I was quite graceful - but that grace didn't prevent my foot from cramming itself into my mouth on occasion.
'And thank you for the offer,' Jared continued. He didn't let go of my hand right away.
'That'd be great. I hate getting into my car all sweaty.'
'Great!' I said brightly. 'Meet you out front in a couple of minutes.'
I lingered for a moment so I could watch Jared walk away. Thankfully, he didn't catch me staring - that'd happened enough over the past several weeks.
I'd seen Jared in the gym before. He stood out amongst most of the other weekday morning gym-goers; most of us were suburban moms or geriatric men, but Jared was just a kid. Later, I'd found out he was twenty two, and in his last semester of college with only a couple of classes left to go. His classes were in the afternoon, which left his mornings free to work out.
On the other side, I was a thirty-eight year old single mom who had somehow cobbled a pretty good living as a freelance writer - hence, my ability to go to the gym after dropping my kid off at school. I kept to myself, and so did Jared, so even though we recognized each other, it didn't progress past the nodding hello stage.
Not that I didn't notice him. Of course I did. His body was like something out of an anatomy textbook. Everything was in perfect proportion; you could see the separate muscles in his shoulders, biceps, triceps, forearms. He usually wore a black tank top that hugged his torso and couldn't hide the thick pecs lurking underneath. Veins popped up here and there along his arms, but not in a gross, shrink wrapped body builder kind of way. I couldn't see much of his lower body since he usually wore sweatpants, but I had a feeling it - all of it - looked just as good. To top it off, a tattoo of a flying Chinese dragon snaked from his right shoulder to wrist.
He was cute, too. A square jaw, nice brown eyes, and a killer smile. The sides of his head were shaved down with a nice fade, with the remaining part on top long enough to be swept back with carefully sculpted style, although it was usually hanging in his eyes at the gym.
But the first time I'd wanted to talk to him was a couple of months ago when two Gym Bros - big but kind of shapeless blondes with matching man-buns - were loudly talking smack about a lanky kid who was doing squats, just because he wasn't lifting a heavy amount of weight. Of course, when they started squatting, they barely moved the bar but acted like they'd just moved the world. At some point, Jared, who was squatting in the rack between the two parties, had enough and commented loudly to the lanky kid that ego lifters were the worst. He then proceeded to out lift the two Bros, sending them back to the locker room, scowling.
I congratulated him for shutting those two jerks up on my way past his squat rack, a compliment he accepted with good grace. Looking back at it, I know that the only reason I even said anything to him was because I wanted to flirt a little. It sounded arrogant, but I knew I looked pretty good, especially for a thirty eight year old woman with a ten year old kid. I might only be five foot two, but my legs went on for a good amount of that height, leading to a nice round butt. My belly was still flat and my C-cups were still nice and firm. A relatively extensive morning skin care ritual - but it wasn't as bad as some of my girlfriends - kept my golden skin smooth and glowing. My Brazilian and Portuguese grandparents probably had something to do with that, as well.
Over the next several weeks we started to work out together. Jared fine tuned my routine and correct my form on several exercises.
'You don't have to work out with me, you know,' I'd said after a couple of weeks. We were stripping weights off the bar at the bench press; Jared usually lifted 225, but I was barely pushing 95 pounds, so a lot of time was taken up between sets. Part of me - that part that was controlled by the little man in the canoe, so to speak - tried to reel the words back into my mouth, but I got them out. I waited, wondering if Jared would take this opening and run with it.
'No, it's fun.' Jared motioned for me to lie down. 'Really! It takes me a little longer to work out, but it's more fun.' He gave me that smile of his, one that was half cocky, half sincere. When I was younger, we called that a panty dropper.
Showing off my breasts and letting my gaze linger on the snake-like bulge that ran down the inside of his thigh when I lay down for the bench press. His hand staying an extra couple of seconds on my back to make sure I activated the right muscles during dumbbell rows, and me catching him staring at my ass when he took a step back (of course, I made sure to arch my back and give my butt a little wiggle). Jared catching me looking at his butt while doing Romanian deadlifts.
All of these memories came flooding back as I waited for Jared at the front door. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but what was the outcome I expected from inviting Jared to my home? That I was going to seduce him? That anything we did was more than just fun flirting, a way for me to feel like a teenager again, and a way for Jared to work on his pick up lines? That Jared wasn't getting enough action on his own that he would look for it from a woman nearly twice his age?
What was I
thinking
?
Oh, no, there was Jared, and I couldn't retract the offer now.
'Let's go!' I said brightly, heart hammering in my chest.
'Lead the way,' Jared grinned.
I let Jared do the talking as we walked. He was telling me about Donna, a ditzy if nice girl who bartended at the restaurant where he was a waiter. This wasn't the first story I'd heard about the exploits she got up to while drunk. She was probably a busty twenty year old, a girl where everything was still firm. It seemed like a lot of these stories were first hand accounts, and my heart hammered again.
What was I
