Feelin The Burn

Hannah

Parker was late... and I was going to kill him. I didn't want to go inside by myself, but my first class was in five minutes.

My fingers flew across the screen of my phone as I sent him a panicked text.

I looked up at the illuminated sign of the gym across the parking lot from me.

For a moment, my mind flashed back to that mysterious ‘J’ from the other day.

I hoped he wasn’t going to be here this morning. But another part of me hoped he would be.

Finally, I groaned and turned off the car. It was obvious Parker wasn’t going to make it on time. I had to do this alone. Shit.

I trudged numbly across the parking lot, my nerves mounting higher and higher with every step I took.

When I pushed open the door, I was pleased to see the gym was a little emptier than when I came in last time. But everybody else was still just as stupidly ripped.

“Hi,” I mumbled, going over to the desk again. My heart fell slightly when I saw the same supermodel-esque woman behind the desk.

“Do you have an appointment?” She was giving me an expectant look and tapping her overly manicured fingers on the counter.

“Uh…”

“Hello?” She waved her hand in front of my face, and I blinked slowly as I tried to snap out of it.

“Mal, give her a break.” Another insanely hot trainer.

Was I being punked? Where were the butter-face trainers? The ones with the fit bodies and the okay faces. Everybody in here looked like a god or a goddess.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?” he asked as he leaned forward against the desk and shot a killer smile in my direction. He had wavy, sandy blond hair and extremely white teeth.

His voice was deep and alluring with a faint southern accent; this man knew exactly how attractive he was. Strong shoulders stretched against a black compression-fit shirt with the gym’s logo splashed across the front.

“I…uh…I’m Hannah?” My teeth clenched in embarrassment after I stuttered out a semi-coherent response.

“Are you sure? That seemed like a question, darlin’.” His amused smile grew as I felt the heat build in my cheeks.

“Yeah…yes. I mean yes. My name is Hannah…Daniels. I’ve got an appointment with Coach Jordan today.”

“Scootch, Mal. I got this,” he told the supermodel as he shouldered her out of the way at the computer. “Go get ready for your class.”

“Fine. Whatever,” she said, her tone bored as she strutted toward an open office door and disappeared.

I felt like I could finally take a breath without her staring at me.

“I’m Tyson, but everyone calls me Ty,” he said, smirking as he started pulling out some paperwork and putting it on a clipboard. “So… Hannah Daniels, unfortunately, Coach Jordan is out today. Our very own Mal will be handling his class. Is that okay?”

I glanced rather uncertainly at the retreating back of this ‘Mal.’ I wasn’t sure how I felt about being trained by that woman.

She seemed physically disgusted by me the last time she saw me, and I didn’t get the impression that her opinion had changed much since then.

My mind went crazy imagining scenarios in which Mal would single me out for being the only overweight girl in the class, eventually making me quit and die young of complications from—

“—Earth to Hannah. How does that sound?” Ty said, smirking slightly as he gazed inquiringly at me.

“Uh…” My face was burning again.

“Hannah, just relax.”

“Sorry. I’m just... nervous?” The pitch in my voice hit a new high as I tried to tamp down some of my mortification.

“That’s perfectly alright. We all have to come for the first time.”

What? No. Bad Hannah.

My mind had taken his statement to the wrong place. I really needed to get my head in the game, but his laid-back demeanor mixed with the fact I’d be getting trained by Ms. Sourpuss had my mind a million miles away.

“I’m assuming this is your first time?” He asked as he grabbed something from the printer underneath the desk.

Was it my first time doing what?

“No…” My voice drew the O out longer than I intended, and he smiled again. He must have thought I was the biggest moron on the planet.

“Okay. We’ll come back to that later. Why don’t you take this clipboard and fill out the intake paperwork?” He thrust the clipboard into my hands and nodded to some benches lined up along the wall.

“I’ll come to check on you in a few minutes, beautiful. Just have a seat and fill these out.”

“All right…” I took a seat off to the side, next to the wall, and started filling in the sheet. It was all the usual stuff. Name, address, phone number, email, referral name…

Then came the hard stuff—the stuff no one wanted to be tracked on a piece of paper outside of locked medical records.

“Weight, shit…” I mumbled as my pen sat motionless next to the little unassuming black line.

“Did you have a question?” Ty was leaning against the counter, a pen in his hand, just casually watching me fill out the paperwork.

For most people, this was probably the easy part. They just filled in their info like it didn’t define them.

“No... I’m good. Thanks.” I took a deep breath and scrawled the three-digit number into the paper. It’d never bothered me that my number started with a two instead of a one, but this time it burned a little.

Being in this place put me on edge and drained me of all the confidence I had about my body before coming in and seeing Mr. & Ms. perfect.

The rest of the sheet was reasonably easy to fill out, but I wasn’t sure what to put on the line for medical conditions.

Did I list high cholesterol and sluggish thyroid? Did it matter? Surely they were looking for things that affected your workout. This is why I hated places like these. They wanted all your secrets.

“You ready for me, Hannah?” I hadn’t even noticed him sit down next to me. I reflexively held the clipboard against my chest.

“Yeah…these things are the worst. But we need to know everything so we can set realistic goals for each session. We don’t want people burning themselves out or getting injured because we don’t know something.”

I relaxed a little, and he went to take it, but I pulled it back against my chest.

“Don’t worry…this’ll stay between the staff and the computer. We will never share anything on here without your permission.”

“All the staff?” My eyes drifted to where Mal had escaped into the office. She seemed like the type to judge.

“We’re all discreet. Our job is to support you; we want to encourage you. Your success is our success.” He was sincere as he gently pried the information sheet from my grip.

“It’s not like people can’t already tell I’m out of shape.” My head dropped, and I mumbled under my breath.

He placed his finger underneath my chin and pushed my face up. His disarming blue eyes were looking at me with a little bit of fire in them.

“None of that bullshit in here, honey. You’re beautiful, and I think you’re pretty damn brave to come in here all by yourself.”

My heart raced at the amount of passion in his voice. I wasn’t expecting someone who looked like him to be this supportive.

“You’ll do just fine.”

I nodded and turned to face him as he went into detail about what services the studio provided and what equipment they used.

“Do you have any questions for me, Hannah?”

“No... I think I’m good. I’ll come to ask if I think of anything.”

“Great,” he nodded with a smile on his face. “Are you ready to get your heart rate monitor on and try out your first class?”

I felt my body start to shake a little bit, and I could tell Ty could feel it, too. He smiled.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Mal is brutal, but she’s a good coach.”

My heart started pounding as I followed him to the desk, and he placed a heart rate monitor on my forearm. It pinched my skin a little, but I guess they needed this to track my progress.

“Are you ready to kill this, Hannah?”