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a plan, but you have to A) not mind if we deviate from your regularly scheduled workout for a bit and B) you have to work really hard to earn it.”
    “What is it?” Like I’m going to agree to something without knowing what it is. Yeah right.
    “I’m not telling. Let’s just say we’re working on that trust thing you mentioned you need to have for your trainer. I will say, it’ll help and I think you’ll enjoy it. I’ll enjoy it too. That’s all you’re getting out of me, though.” He crosses his arms, but this time, t he tension’ s gone.
    Is it possible for a day at the gym to screw with your head? I’m really starting to think so because before I can talk myself out of it, I find myself saying, “Fine, whatever. But this better be good.”
    “Deal. Let’s get going then. We have a lot to cover today. I have some time between you and my next appointment, if you don’t mind us running late.”
    That automatically makes a sheen of sweat slap itself across my forehead. Great. We haven’t even worked out yet and I’m already sweating. How attractive is that? Plus, adding the words running and late together don’t sound good to me at all, but I nod anyway.
    Luckily it doesn’t start out as bad as I thought when I find out the first item on our list is to work out a meal plan. He doesn’t tell me what to eat. We just talk about what I usually do eat, he gives me a book on suggestions, a diary to write my meals in, and the amount of calories I need to stay under.
    “Oh, and water. Be sure you drink a lot of water.”
    I nod, a little sad I’ll have to say goodbye to Ben and Jerry. “What about you? You drink smoothies.”
    “Not you too.” He groans. “Can’t a guy have a sweet tooth? At least its fruit I’m reaching for and not something else.”
    I know he didn’t mean it, but his words sting. I would be the one reaching for something else. He can have a smoothie a day because he’s not trying to lose weight. He moves on, not seeming to realize how his statement affected me.
    We begin our aerobic on the treadmills and to my surprise, Tegan jogs with me again. We up the speed a little and I try to ignore the easy rise and fall of his chest while I’m panting for breath. From there we head into weights and resistance training and I’m wondering when this whole idea of his is starting. So far we’re basically doing the same thing as yesterday. My legs burn like they’re on fire while we do some machine that is supposed to give me quads of steel. They feel more like jelly at the moment.
    “Come on, Annabel. Three more. You can do this.”
    I push my legs up again. Yeah, I can do this. I find that, all of a sudden, I really want to. Again, I lift, pushing past the burn, focusing on the way I haven’t thought about yesterday between the time we started the run until just a second ago.
    “You got this. One more and then you get your surprise.”
    His wording makes me falter slightly, but I catch myself. Ignoring the way “surprise” sounds more like a friendly gesture than trainer/trainee one, I lift against the resistance one last time. “Oh my God.” I go limp against the machine. “Is it always supposed to be tougher the second day?” I’m panting. My eyes are closed and I probably look like I had a near drowning experience in my own sweat, but right now I can’t find it in myself to care.
    “It’s just because your body is adjusting and you’re sore from yesterday, but you know what? You hardly flinched the whole day. You were in the zone. Not half of the resistance you had just twenty-four hours ago.”
    My heart finds the energy to do a happy dance in my chest. I let my head roll to the side and open my eyes. Without meaning to, I smile at him.
    “You killed it today. Now you definitely deserve to kick some ass.”
    Huh? “I’m a lover, not a fighter. Plus, isn’t it against some trainer, client code to challenge said client to a fight? Not sayin’ I couldn’t take you,