Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 455(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I play dumb. “I’m confused.”
“No you aren’t.”
I burst out laughing.
“Also…can I just say, I saw you speaking with that man in the flight suit at the party last night, and I’m surprised you didn’t swallow your tongue. God, he was good-looking.”
“Are you talking about Hudson?” Barrett asks incredulously.
“Oh is that his name?” Nyles says. “He’s your rebound man, Scarlett. Mark my words!”
I hang up on them.
Chapter Fourteen
Scarlett
In the two weeks since my breakup with Jasper, I’ve been kickboxing and working out more than ever. It’s my favorite form of self-care, and it’s convenient that the Elwood Hoyt building has a world-class gym that takes up the entire second floor. If my body allowed, I’d be there every day after work. As it is, I manage to sneak in a session with my trainer every other day during the week.
Jasper never loved my preferred form of exercise, though of course he’d never outright say it like that. He always masked it with concern. The last time he brought it up was the night he brought Thai food over to my apartment, the night Moira attacked his leg.
Apparently, I had a little bruise on my right arm.
“Scarlett, I think you’ve taken the kickboxing thing too far. Have you tried Orange Theory? I just took my third class and I really enjoyed it. Also, my mom raves about her pilates studio. You could look into that?”
I have nothing against Orange Theory or pilates or any other form of exercise people choose to do. I couldn’t care less. It’s just the fact that he couldn’t get behind what I love. A bruise on my arm is hardly reason to cut back.
I’ve never felt as strong or as lean as I do on my current workout regimen, and I love feeling this way, like I have complete control over my body, like it’s powerful and fierce. Jasper never could understand that, but then again, Jasper is no longer my problem.
He came and picked up what few things were left at my apartment, and we did that awkward second-breakup-after-the-first-breakup thing where he tried to apologize (and justify) why he said what he said at the diner and I had to pretend I wasn’t seconds away from unloading every angry thought onto him. Fortunately, I succeeded.
Now, I run on the treadmill in the Elwood Hoyt gym, finishing up my two-mile cardio warm-up while I wait for my trainer to get here. We used to work out together at his gym before I started at Elwood Hoyt, but since it’s hard for me to make it over there with my current workload, he’s agreed to train me here instead. Unfortunately, I don’t think today is going to pan out. I check my phone to see he sent me a text while I was running.
Jake: Had a trainer no-show for work today. I can’t leave the gym. Sorry. Let me know if you want to reschedule. This week will be hard, but I could maybe get over to you later next week.
It’s a bummer, but I understand it’s hard for him to drive the thirty minutes just to train me when he has an entire gym to run. There’s probably someone else I could bring on, maybe another trainer he works with—though from the sound of it, he doesn’t exactly have people to spare at the moment.
I step into the locker room to tuck my phone away with my purse and clothes, and then I head back out into the gym. Hudson is here, by the weights.
He comes as often as I do, though our days don’t always sync up. (Not for lack of me trying, by the way.) I’m not ashamed to say I would rework my entire schedule for the pleasure of seeing that man work out. He’s not a gym rat. Picture: overly buff dude mainlining testosterone while wearing a two-sizes-too-small tank top that for some inexplicable reason has huge gaping arm holes??? No, no. Hudson usually pulls from a variety of old college t-shirts or concert shirts. So far I’ve seen Dave Matthews, the Grateful Dead, and Foo Fighters. We love a man with taste! Along with these, he usually wears Lululemon shorts and, if the gym gods decide to bless me that day, a backward hat (sob).
The gym rules as of late are as follows:
- We do not acknowledge each other.
- If we do accidentally get in each other’s way, Hudson pretends I don’t exist.
Once, I was coming out of the hallway that leads toward the locker room while he was coming in, and I almost ran smack into him. He grabbed my shoulders and brushed past me, saving me the embarrassment (and pleasure) of squashing my cheek directly into his hard chest. I know his chest is hard because while his t-shirts aren’t tight, they’re tight, you know?