Page 12 of Gym With Benefits

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Jess

The bell above the door of ‘Bean There, Done That’ gave a cheerful little chime that was in stark contrast to my current state.

I was tucked into a corner booth at the back of the Adams Morgan coffee shop, hiding behind an imposing monstera and a double espresso that was doing absolutely nothing to stop my hands from shaking. I had driven away from Capitol Fitness so fast I was pretty sure I’d left rubber on the street, my mind trapped in a loop of sculpted muscle, and the casual, mocking phrasing ofyou should probably get that.

"Alright, clear the runway, the first responder has arrived."

David slid into the vinyl bench across from me with the kind of theatrical gravity he always seemed to find so easily. He propped his elbows on the table and pinned me with a look through the tinted lenses of his sunglasses. He wore an immaculate cream-colored trench coat over a silk button-down that was way too expensive for a casual Saturday afternoon, giving off a breezy, unbothered confidence I envied with every fiber of my being.

“Hot date?”

“You must have me confused with your other best friend, who you can dupe into talking about himself while you skillfully sidestep the reason you made him drop everything to meet youin a painfully average coffee shop under the guise of lunch when you both know that on Saturdays you don’t get hungry until well after five p.m., which usually leads to one of two options: speed dialing the Red Dragon for your standard order of wonton soup, or raiding the kitchen for some semblance of a girl dinner.”

My fingers danced on my cup as I eyed him closely. “What was I thinking? You’d never ditch a hot date for me.”

David snorted a short laugh, and nodded to the server across the room. “I’ll give you some grace while this tall drink of water comes to take my order but after that, you spill.”

“I can’t remember the last time I saw you this aggressive,” I said, very obviously stalling. “No, wait, I do remember. It was that episode of Real Housewives, when Brandi confessed to hooking up with Denise Richards.”

His snappy retort was forced into submission when the server arrived, and David had to be content with shooting me a warning look. It took him all of ten seconds to rattle off his order. Ten whole seconds for me to formulate some kind of coherent story I could relay to him that would get the advice I desperately needed.

Once the server had left, David hooked a finger into the bridge of his shades and slipped them partway down his nose. “The floor is yours.”

“You just got here.” I averted my eyes, choosing the intoxicating black liquid in my cup over his penetrating stare. “Can’t we settle in before—?”

"You sounded like you were being held hostage by a cartel on the phone," he said, palms flat on the table. "I had to abandon a very promising flirtation with my tailor’s assistant to rush over here. Explain yourself. Did you pull a hamstring? Did you break a treadmill? What the hell happened?"

"Worse," I groaned, burying my face in my hands. The fake leather of the booth squeaked as I tried to find a way to shrink out of existence. "So much worse, David. I had an accident."

"Oh, sweetie, no.” He grasped my hand in both of his. “One time I reached flow state on a stepmaster and peed a little. It happens to the best of us at the worst of times.”

"No!" I pulled my hand back and glared at him. "A car accident. In the parking lot at the gym. Before I even set foot inside the building."

David’s demeanor changed instantly. If he’d perked up any more he would’ve turned into a broomstick. "Tell me it was an expensive car. Tell me you hit a diplomat. Give me the details of how you’re about to make a huge payday in claims. My soul is starving."

I spent the next ten minutes reporting the chaotic saga. About the Ford Bronco and its asshole driver, the immediate screaming match, and the total lack of insurance exchange. I may have harped on about Dane too much. His messy mop of brown hair, the towering height, and the casual way he’d insulted my Honda Civic before walking away to get his workout in.

"Let me get this straight," David said, his fingers forming a thoughtful steeple beneath his chin. "An impossibly gorgeous, angry man in a vintage utility vehicle insulted your provenance, refused to give you his Progressive information, and then just vanished into the ether?"

"Well, not quite. I ran into him again inside.”

“You ran into him?”

“No, not physically. What’s wrong with you?”

He threw up his hands in frustration. “I’m going on what you’re giving me, woman. How about we spend a little less time on looks and more time clarifying?”

“That’s not all.” I bit the inside of my lip, hardly believing what I was about to say was the actual truth. “It got weirder.”

The words tumbled out of me in a rush. I told him about Hunter at the front desk, the blue-eyed, boyish charm, and the way he’d teased me about having mustard on my lip just to get me to laugh for my membership photo. I told him about the tour and the definite eye contact with the resident personal trainer, the casual flirting at the juice bar, and then the utter horror of getting onto the elliptical only for Parking Lot Dick—whose name tag revealed him to be Dane—to take the machine right next to mine just to spite me.

"Oh, this is delicious," David purred, a brilliant grin breaking across his face. "You went to a mid-tier fitness establishment and stumbled into a multi-season romantic drama. You have a nemesis, Jess! An actual, honest-to-god gym foil. The structural chemistry is unmatched."

"It’s not delicious, it was a nightmare," I said, leaning my head back against the vinyl booth. "And I haven't even gotten to the worst part yet."