“Come on, Justin!”
Justin’s teeth grit, his legs pushing hard at the press, his muscles trembling under the weight. Sweat beads at his temples and his fingers curl tightly around the grips next to his hips pushing the weights up, his legs moving slowly but surely. He breathes deep through his nose, pushing it out of his mouth as his legs press forward and he tries to think about anything but the burn in his muscles.
“Come on you got two more.”
Justin’s head turns slightly, watching as Dom crosses his arms over his chest, his pecs bulging under the thin black tank top all the personal trainers wear. He’s a large man with a small head and virtually no neck, his hair buzzed close to his scalp but Justin can see where the short bristles are beginning to thin near the crown of his head. Justin curses him silently, biting back a moan as he lets his knees bend back slowly, his thighs trembling and he’s panting hard, Dom stepping close to push the weights back should his legs give out.
“You can do it, dude. Two more, come on fuckin push,” Dom encourages in that slightly patronizing way of his.
Justin sets his jaw, forcing his legs to extend and the weights push forward, the sound of metal sliding on metal echoing in his head and he has one more. Just one more. His body screams “no” but his mind shouts its contradiction louder and he allows his knees to bend one more time, his muscles taking the weight grudgingly and all he has to do is push back. Just push back, think of anything but the pain and just push…
The push of Charlotte’s mouth on his own is urgent and he hasn’t felt passion like that in…
He chokes suddenly, the memory breaking his concentration and his legs give out, the tray forcing his knees to his chest and a strangled whimper pulls from his throat, the breath rushing from his lungs and he really doesn’t bend that way anymore. Dom jumps to action immediately, his hands pushing the plate back until it’s locked into place and Justin lets his head hang back, muscles trembling but now he’s not so sure it’s from the weights and he lets his eyes close.
His memory is in a flurry, his mind half-heartedly trying to shove back the feeling of her mouth on his, her fingers wrapped around his tie, the gentle brush of her fingertips against his jaw…
“Dude, you okay?” his trainer asks, and he opens his eyes looking at the concern on the other man’s face but it doesn’t quite mask his annoyance at Justin’s failure.
“Yeah,” Justin sighs, rolling so his feet plant on the floor and he tests his legs wearily, finding them not unlike jello as he tries to stand.
“What’s up with you today, bro?” Dom asks, tossing a towel at him and Justin catches it, dabbing at his forehead, panting hard.
“I dunno,” Justin replies, heaving a sigh, pulling himself to his feet.
It was only half a lie really. Ever since he’d woken up this morning he’d felt off, something inside him seemingly off rhythm and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get the night before out of his head. Amelia had forced him out of bed around nine to have breakfast with her mother at the Plaza and he’d been distracted throughout the entire meal, his eyes turning this way and that, toward the stained glass of the laylight, the Palm Court bright with morning sunshine. He counted the lines between the glass panels, he’d replayed his golf swing over and over again in his mind, trying to perfect it mentally, he’d sang every song he could think of to himself but the smell of Charlotte’s skin was engrained in his every thought, the taste of her mouth burned so deeply into his psyche that he could recall it even now, taste it on his own lips.
He shakes his head, forcing his mind elsewhere. He recalled how they’d dragged him to Tiffany where he watched uninterestedly as they’d argued over the Tiffany Weave place settings versus some French thing Justin couldn’t even pronounce and then it was back home where Amelia yelled at him for fifteen minutes about his rudeness at breakfast then reminded him of his gym appointment, banishing him from the house with a scoff.
Just your typical Saturday morning at the Timberlake-Domineck residence.
But it wasn’t just a typical Saturday, Justin mused as Dom ushered him from the leg press over to the benches in front of a long set of mirrors. It was anything but typical. A thrill runs through his veins as he remembers the feel of Charlotte’s tongue reaching to swipe his bottom lip tentatively, how her fingernails scratched against his chest, the sensation dull through the cotton of his shirt as he reciprocated and then the sound she made when his tongue slid against hers…
He sits, rolling his neck slightly and trying to shake off the memory, trying to push it down to think of anything else. Dom sets the dumbbells at his feet, a pair of forty-fives, and he knows now is not the time to daydream. He grasps them, his fingers wiggling around the metal bar, settling into place before pulling them up, his palms facing his body, elbows flexed.
“Three sets of eight,” Dom says, moving around the end of the bench to stand behind him and Justin blinks at him.
“These are forty-five pound weights,” Justin says and Dom gives a short nod. “Did you talk to Amelia earlier because-”
“You givin me lip?” Dom asks, his brow furrowing slightly and Justin shuts up immediately. He doesn’t want to have to run three extra miles for arguing. “That’s what I thought, now come on. Up!”
Justin grits his teeth as he bends his elbows, raising the dumbbells until they are level with his shoulders then rotating his wrists. He grits his teeth as he feels the pull in his deltoids, forcing his arms in the air. He holds them there for a split second before rotating his wrists back as he brings the weights down again, his elbows curling until the weights are level with his shoulders again.
Sweat beads on his brow and he takes deep breaths, forcing his body farther. His muscles burn and his jaw hurts from clenching his teeth so hard but he gets through the first set with relative ease. His second set is slower, the burn tearing through his shoulders and arms and he forces himself to think of something else.
A soft whimper pulls from the back of Charlotte’s throat, her fingers wringing in the lapels of his jacket and the sound causes his lips to press harder to hers, his fingers curling around her hair, the softness of her locks twisting and tangling around his hands, trapping them against her. As if he would ever want to pull away…
His arms give out midpush and blind panic causes him to let go of the weights but years of weightlifting causes him to push out as he lets go so the weights fall with a loud thud against the rubber floor mats, bouncing slightly from the force of the fall. Dom jumps back, one of the dumbbells barely missing his big toe and Justin cringes as everyone in the room turns to see what the commotion is about.
“Alright, alright, quit your gawkin,” Dom hollers gruffly, bending over to snatch up the weights and he sets them back on the rack like they’re cans of soda instead of heavy weights. “Treadmill. Now.”
“But I still have three sets of Raises to d-” Justin starts and the older man turns to him, his brow crinkled in annoyance.
“Not today, you don’t,” he snaps and Justin’s eyes widen slightly, chastised and he stands to follow Dom to the cardio room.
Dom stops next to a line of vacant treadmills and gestures at Justin who immediately lifts his foot from the floor, curling his leg up behind him and beginning to stretch. He really hopes that Dom will go easy on him. Three miles at the most. He can do three miles in about forty-five minutes. Surely he can keep his mind from wandering too far in forty-five minutes.
“I dunno what kinda shit you got goin on,” Dom says and Justin looks up at him slightly confused. The older man just nods towards the treadmill, ushering Justin onto it, “and I’m not one to tell a man to say no when his woman is givin him some, but I don’t want another session like this one.” He punctuates his sentence by hitting the start button and Justin is so shocked he doesn’t start walking right away, nearly falling off the back.
“Wait,” Justin says, his feet scrambling to fall into rhythm. “What? I didn’t-”
“You’re trying to tell me that you’re throwin’ weights all over the place and nearly crushing yourself because you’re just having an off day?” Dom asks with a chuckle. “I’m happy for you man. You were one high strung motherfucker and I’m glad you finally got some but just do me a favor and cancel the session next time okay?”
Justin watches slack-jawed as Dom pounds his back hard before moving to walk away.
“Oh, five miles,” Dom adds as an after thought, jamming his thumb against the upper arrow and driving the treadmill to move faster, throwing Justin into a run.
He watches the trainer drop his water bottle into the holder before smacking him on the back and walking away, Justin trying to find his rhythm as he tries not to let his mind wander too far. What did he have to do today? Amelia wanted him to go through his closet and get rid of some old clothes, which meant she wanted him to get rid of all the clothes she didn’t really like. He was supposed to drop by the studio and check Kalayah’s progress. Amelia wanted him to pick up some Black-Mint Granité for her tea…
He’s surrounded by the light scent of mint, Charlotte’s hair wrapped around his fingers and every time his hands move it sends the scent wafting around them, encircling them like a halo…
He sighs, glancing down at his progress. Barely a quarter mile. So much for not thinking about it.
He supposes he can’t avoid it forever. There has to be a reason it keeps creeping up into his mind and the faster he figures it out the faster he can forget it. He can’t help the snort that pulls from his throat at the thought. Not likely to forget THAT anytime soon.
He presses the arrow that ups his speed, his legs moving faster, as if he can run away from the thought but it tags along, unrelenting and unwilling to fade. He kissed Charlotte. He kissed her and he liked it. There, he admitted it. He waits for the overwhelming rush of guilt, the bone crushing regret but finds that he has none. The shock of the realization breaks his rhythm slightly and almost sends him sprawling to the ground but he somehow manages to keep his balance. The pretty girl riding the stationary bike a few rows ahead of him looks back and giggles slightly causing him to blush and chuckle at himself.
He kissed Charlotte. Charlotte. His Charlie, he kissed her. In the stairwell, somewhere between the thirty-seventh and thirty-eighth floors on a Friday evening he’d kissed her. He says this over and over again in his head, waiting for the guilt to stab at him but it never really does. It’s minimal at best, only really rearing its head when the word cheating comes to mind. But it’s banished in an instant when he replays it in his head, recalls the feeling of her mouth on his, her body pressed against his and a little zing of pleasure and excitement trills down his spine. Massachusetts…Boston.
He wonders where she is. What she’s doing. It’s Saturday afternoon. Was she at the park, enjoying the unusual warmness of the day? He could see her sitting on a red and white checkered blanket, her long dark hair pulled in a high ponytail, exposing the pale column of her neck, the freckle about an inch below her hairline. He can see her reading, one of those trashy chick lit books maybe? No, the New York Times was more her style, or the Wall Street Journal since she was into finance. Or maybe she was spending the day at the Met, trolling through a few of the exhibits, her head tilted to the side as she regards a painting critically, her green eyes squinted slightly in thought, her teeth working her bottom lip slowly.
He ups his speed again shaking his head. He shouldn’t be thinking these things. Trace had said that it was okay for him to feel this way as long as he didn’t act on it. Where did that leave him now? He’d acted on it, broken the cardinal rule of relationships, one that he’d often been burned by. Now the guilt comes full force, bitter in the back of his throat. He doesn’t usually do this kind of thing.
Was it really cheating though? It was just a kiss…or five…or maybe it was just one really long one? He wasn’t quite sure. His brain had kind of gone on vacation during the whole episode and all he could really remember was the fire that raced through his veins and the bone crushing, all-consuming want he’d had for Charlotte in that instant. He hadn’t been thinking…not with his head anyway…not with the one on his shoulders anyway.
He tries to imagine how he would feel if the tables were turned, if Amelia had made out with some random dude in the stairwell of his office building. He doesn’t have to try too hard to conjure up the image. They’d hit a rough patch a year or so back and she’d cheated. It hurt him like hell and the memory still cut him, still caused his breathing to hitch. It was just some randomer, some up and coming producer, no one special.
He can’t help thinking that it was different though. Charlotte wasn’t random and she certainly was special, to him anyway. He’s not sure if that makes it better or worse. He’s thinking it may be the latter. His brow furrows. Amelia’s cheated before so who is she to judge him, anyway? Not that he would ever tell her – God there’s a conversation he never wants to have. Turn about is fair play after all. What goes around…
Goes around goes around goes around…
He wonders what Monday will bring. Surely he’ll see her then. Amelia will send her over on some menial errand and awkward small talk will ensue. He frowns. That’s not him and Charlotte. It was all friendly jabs and scathing banter, just he and Charlie. But would it be that way now? Their relationship had been taken to the next level. Relationship in the most general sense of the word, he assures his conscience. They were two people who were connected, which in a sense is the definition of the word relationship.
A bead of sweat trickles from his temple and he’s not entirely sure it’s from the workout.
He doesn’t want things to change between them. He needs her, needs her to be his sounding board and his advice column, needs to hear her opinion and be able to look at her and know that she gets him. He can’t lose that and since things can’t exactly move forward in the direction that they are heading, they need to stay the same. His heart aches slightly at the realization, a small kernel of disappointment wedging its way into his stomach and it scares him. It scares him to even contemplate that it could mean more to him than the relationship he’s in, the one that he’s built for years, that he’s fought for and sacrificed for and given up everything for. So he shoves it into the back of his mind, with the songs he would never write and the house in Memphis he would never have, tucking it away and trying to not think about it for now.
After all it is only Saturday, early Saturday. He has two whole days to figure it out and come Monday, he’s sure he’ll have some kind of solution.
He shakes his head, finally falling into an easy rhythm, his legs burning slightly but it’s the feeling of progress, the steady flow of endorphins coursing through his veins as his breath is pulled in and pushed out his lungs. He feels at peace, concentrating on the strain of his muscles and the beat of his heart, steady and strong and there’s nothing else.
“COME ON, JENSON!”
The words are barked from the weight room but the sternness in them echoes throughout the entire gym and Justin’s attention is drawn to the doorway watching as one of the trainers strides purposefully into the room. It takes him a minute to realize that it’s a woman, her arms thick and muscular, her shoulders broad and tan. A small sprig of frizzy curls sprouts from her ponytail and bounces up and down as she stomps in his direction. He doesn’t envy her client.
As soon as the thought passes his mind his eyes widen when he sees Charlotte stumbling along after her. Her face is blotchy and red, pieces of her dark hair falling out of her haphazard ponytail and sticking to her face and neck. Her legs wobble unstably under her, her soft gray Capri pants clinging to her legs and her baggy blue NYU t-shirt looks like it’s about two sizes too big, a ring of sweat visible on the collar.
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!!!” the trainer exclaims, her mammoth hands clapping together and the sound echoes off the walls as she ushers Charlotte over to the treadmills. “How many miles do you usually run?”
Charlotte swallows hard, her mouth dry, her entire body aching. When she’d received the call this morning that she had an appointment with a trainer at David Barton’s Gym she was half asleep and slightly dazed. She had insisted that it must be some kind of mistake, she didn’t go to that gym but the woman on the other line barked that she had just been enrolled in a membership that included once a week sessions with a personal trainer. She then said that she expected her to be on time and ready to work. This was all a little much for Charlotte to handle at seven a.m. on a Saturday.
Once awake she found that she was unable to fall back asleep, the previous night’s events creeping into her brain and gnawing at her conscious. She had kissed Justin. Justin. Her boss’ fiancé, she had kissed him. She’d be lying if she said that she hadn’t dreamed of that exact moment for a long, long time but daydreams were innocent and that kiss last night was anything but innocent. She had laid in bed for a good hour or so replaying the way his tongue slid against hers, the feel of his chest under her fingertips, the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. She remembered how tenderly he’d touched her face, how his fingers had woven so deeply into her hair that it took him a moment to untangle them when he’d begun to pull away.
And that’s where she always stopped the memory because it was almost too embarrassing to remember their awkward parting of ways, the way she’d nearly tripped down the stairs as she turned to leave, the way he’d turned to go back up. To his fiancé.
By the time one o’clock rolled around she was almost glad for the distraction of the gym appointment. Six hours of mulling over the repercussions of her actions, the ensuing awkwardness between she and Justin, the awkwardness between she and Amelia, and the little thrill in her stomach whenever she thought of seeing him again had her so turned around she could barely think straight. She would be happy to just run and let the endorphins over take her.
That was until she met Fiona, her hulking scowling personal trainer. After breaking down all of her problem areas – hips, buttocks, thighs – and areas that needed tone – upper arms, calves, belly – all while standing in her sports bra and boy shorts she was convinced this could get no worse. But then came thirty minutes of stretching where Fiona pushed and pulled her body in directions that no normal human being should be twisted after which followed relentless weight training, Charlotte’s muscles screaming in protest with every bend and lift.
Now sweaty and exhausted, barely thinking she can move another step she lifts her eyes to the set of treadmills in front of her and her stomach falls to her toes, finding Justin blinking back dazedly at her, his long legs working easily under his loose fitting basketball shorts.
“Hi,” she blurts breathlessly, forgetting all about Fiona for the time being and Justin’s eyes widen before letting out a nervous chuckle.
“Hey,” he says, and she thinks she denotes a hint of breathlessness in his voice as well, but that could be because he’s running.
“This your boyfriend?” Fiona asks, eyeing the two of them suspiciously and Justin and Charlotte’s gazes snap to her.
“NO!” they practically scream in unison and then look at the floor, Justin’s finger jabbing at the up arrow, driving himself to move faster.
“Good,” Fiona says, nudging Charlotte around the back of Justin’s machine and ushering her onto the treadmill next to him. “You’re gonna do three miles,” she says jabbing at the start button and Charlotte stumbles slightly as the belt begins to move.
“I usually only do one-”
“And that obviously ain’t workin is it, honey?” Fiona replies back smarmily and Charlotte feels her face flame, tugging self consciously at the hem of her shirt. “Three miles.” Fiona says firmly and then glances quickly at Justin, eyeing him up and down. “Try and keep up with him,” she adds, cocking her head at him before jamming her thumb against the speed arrow and driving Charlotte to move faster before walking away.
Charlotte struggles to keep her pace, her eyes flitting every now and then to Justin beside her. His stride is easy, his long legs moving fluidly and even though he’s set on six he looks like he could run all day. Sweat glistens on his skin, the muscles in his arms stretching the sleeves of the thin white t-shirt he wears. Her heart races in her chest as she tries to think of something to say. All the usual casualties seem trivial and forced. What do you say to the man who you made out with in a stairwell when he’s the same man who is engaged to your boss?
“You don’t have to keep up with me,” he says and she glances at him confused. “I mean I won’t narc on you if you wanna go slower.”
“Oh,” Charlotte says, chuckling slightly to herself. “Yeah, um…” she pauses looking for Fiona’s mammoth frame. “Better safe than sorry.”
“I’ll slow down then,” he says, taking down his speed a little.
“You don’t have to,” Charlotte says, blushing slightly and Justin can’t help but smile.
“Nah, it’s fine I’m getting tired anyway…Maybe we can just walk for awhile.”
Charlotte’s heart flutters in her chest as she brings her speed down to a four, feeling her muscles rejoice. He’s slowed down as well, his sneakers thumping steadily on the belt as he reaches for his water bottle, popping the cap and taking a deep swig. She’s mesmerized by a drop of sweat that zigzags from his temple and down the side of his handsome face.
“Want some?” he offers, holding the bottle out to her and she looks at it dumbly. “I don’t have cooties I swear.”
Her eyes meet his and, as if their minds were on the same reel, the scene of their lips meeting fiercely, passionately, plays in their heads and they both look away quickly, swallowing hard as nervous silence settles over them.
“Um, I’m okay,” Charlotte stutters after a moment and Justin nods, still not looking at her as he uses the flat of his palm to jam the cap back down and drops it into the holder on his machine.
They’re quiet then, each looking for something to say to the other. Charlotte wants to ask him what it all means. Where does this leave them? Was it just a freak occurrence? Was it just because she was vulnerable and he was relieved to be in a situation where he could feel like a real man? Or did he have feelings for her? She swallows hard as she remembers how tightly his fingers wrapped in her hair. It sure felt like there was something between them…
“I didn’t know you went to this gym,” Justin says congenially, and Charlotte looks over, finding his face set in a pleasant expression.
“Oh, I don’t,” Charlotte says and Justin nods, looking forward but not responding. “I mean, I didn’t before today. Someone set up an appointment for me.”
“Wonder who did that,” he deadpans and the bitterness in his voice isn’t lost on Charlotte.
It is then that the full weight of everything settles on her. Amelia set up the appointment. Charlotte hadn’t really made the connection at first, or maybe she had but only subconsciously. Her life was so up in the air most days that when she got a call telling her to be somewhere she didn’t think twice on who the order was from. She showed up and she did what she was told. But walking here next to Justin on the treadmill she begins to understand that this is Amelia’s game. Did she know what happened between them? How could she know? If she knew, surely Charlotte would be packing her desk up right now instead of having a training session at one of the most expensive, exclusive gyms in the city. Then again she was sure that after last night’s explosion in Amelia’s office she would be packing her desk. She wasn’t sure what to think anymore.
But Amelia always had a way of figuring things out. It never ceased to amaze Charlotte the lengths to which she would go to know everything and if she didn’t know already, it was really just a matter of time. Maybe she did know and she was just trying to set them up, catch them in the act.
But that was another thing Charlotte was unsure about. Was there really anything to catch? It was one kiss in the stairwell. One passionate, clothes grabbing, very prolonged kiss. She needed to talk to Justin. Really talk to him, not this forced pleasantries business. She needed to know what he wanted, where he stood. She needed to know if this was about them or if it was about his shortcomings with Amelia. She needed to know how he felt. How he felt about her.
“Do you have plans for the day?” Justin asks suddenly, and Charlotte nearly falls off her treadmill, forgetting entirely that he was right next to her.
“Um…” she stutters looking over at him and he’s looking back at her, his face unreadable and she wonders what he’s insinuating. Was he asking her out? “Not really…no.”
“Me either,” he says and then holds her gaze for a moment before looking down and that awkward silence settles over them again.
What the hell is he doing? He kicks himself mentally, reaching up to increase his speed again, trying to run away from his idiocy. “Do you have plans for the day?” way to sound like a giant dork, J, he chides in his head and watches her from the corner of his eye as she reluctantly brings her speed up to match his. His eyes travel from her beat up running shoes to the smooth whiteness of her calves before they disappear beneath the fabric of her Capris. He follows the swell of her thigh up over the roundness of her ass and even though it’s masked by the hem of her shirt the way it bounces slightly as she jogs makes his mouth go dry. New Jersey…Trenton.
“Um…” Charlotte says, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear and his eyes are drawn to her face again, her lip pulled between her teeth. “Would you wanna go get some lunch or-”
“Justin!”
Charlotte jumps and Justin cranes his neck to look over his shoulder and his eyes widen slightly to see Patti just stepping off an elliptical that’s tucked into the back corner. His eyes wander down her body, the tight spandex workout pants clinging to her hips in the most dangerous way and he forces himself to look at her face as she adjusts the strap of her matching sports bra. He hates when women wear skimpy clothes to the gym; it breaks his concentration but he always feels kind of gay when he thinks that so he tries to avoid the thought if possible.
Charlotte’s eyes flit from Patti to Justin, the way his pupils dilate as he takes in the tan expanse of her skin. Charlotte looks down at her frumpy old college shirt and her tattered gym capris, wondering how Patti can look glowing with a thin sheen of sweat slicking her skin and Charlotte looks drenched and wilted.
“Hey Patti,” he says, smiling widely, and Charlotte’s eyes snap to him again “How’s it going?”
“Good,” she says, smiling easily at him, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth and her eyes fall on Charlotte. “Hi…Charlene is it?”
“Charlotte,” she replies, doing her best to sound friendly.
“Right! Sorry,” Patti says, tapping her temple and smiling before turning her full attention back to Justin, a smooth smile pulling at her lips. “You’ve got nice rhythm.”
“Huh?” Justin responds, his eyes busy watching a bead of sweat trickle from her collarbone down the valley between her breasts and she gestures to the machine.
“When you run…you have nice rhythm.”
“Oh…” Justin replies, blushing slightly as he feels her eyes travel down his body. “Thank you.”
Charlotte jabs the up arrow in her speed, not caring that her muscles scream in protest. She’d do anything to get away from this exchange. How could she be so stupid? The kiss didn’t mean anything to him. She’s sure he’d done it thousands of times with Patti or any of the other bimbos Amelia paraded around in front of him as bait. Her heart aches and suddenly she’s fighting tears, wanting nothing more than to be out of this stupid place, go home and curl up in her bed and pretend none of this ever happened. She doesn’t dare look at Justin.
“Amelia taking good care of you?” Patti asks, her dark eyes like liquid amber and Justin’s taken aback slightly. “Making sure you’re lifting and everything?”
He exhales slowly with a chuckle. “Yeah,” he responds with a nod. “Always lookin out for me, that girl.”
“Well,” Patti says after a moment or so more of watching him. “I’ll let you get back to your work out.” He jumps as she reaches out, her fingertips brushing his arm. “Don’t work too hard now.”
She winks at him before sauntering away and he’s perilous to stop himself from watching the hypnotic swing of her hips, her skin glistening with sweat in the ambient lighting of the gym. He shakes his head, suddenly dazed and slightly confused, tingly and warm. What is wrong with him lately? First Charlotte and now…
His attention is turned back to Charlotte, his eyebrows raising slightly as he watches her run, her legs moving fast, noting that she’s running at a six now. He can’t help but be impressed. Usually by now he’s ready to curl up on the floor and die but she seems to have found her second wind. He accepts her non-existent challenge and ups his speed as well, pushing his body farther, keeping watch of her out of the corner of his eye, their bodies moving together, muscles straining and pulling.
Charlotte runs, runs from her tears, from the hurt and she doesn’t care that her lungs feel as if they’re going to explode in her chest, doesn’t care that her calves are cramping and her thighs are shaking. She just wants to run until she can’t move, until she can’t feel. She doesn’t want to care about him anymore. She doesn’t want to be sucked into his and Amelia’s fucked up mind game anymore than she already has been. Amelia can keep slowly draining every ounce of free will from him and Justin can keep pretending like he doesn’t see this, doesn’t care. He can keep running away and refusing to admit how unhappy he really is. And Charlotte…well, where exactly does that leave her now? She did the one thing she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do the very first day Amelia had stuck her on as Justin’s assistant. She had gotten involved, let herself like him, let herself fall for him and now she is paying for it. She is paying dearly.
She jabs the emergency stop button, feeling if she runs one more step she’d fall to the ground, sadness falling over her like a veil and she just wants to go home.
“You okay?” Justin asks, genuine concern in his voice as he hits his own stop and Charlotte’s legs wobble as she steps off her machine.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she responds soberly, trying to pull air into her lungs as she moves around his machine, not even looking at him.
“You sure?” he asks, moving to step off the belt but she turns, holding up a hand and he’s confused by the look in her eyes; anger mixed with hurt. “You seem-”
“I’m just tired,” she says quickly and the smile she forces doesn’t reach her eyes, doesn’t even come close. “You keep running,” she says giving him a nod. “It’s what you’re good at.”
He gives her a confused look but she just turns away from him and he watches her wobble her way to the back of the room, disappearing into the women’s locker room without even a glance back. He shakes his head, wondering what the hell is going on, how he got so turned around as he climbs back onto his treadmill. He hits the start button and begins at a slow jog. He’s got one mile to go and he’ll spend it trying his damndest not to think about Charlotte in the shower.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Hey guys thanks for your patience! I'm leaving for France tomorrow *nervousomg* But I WILL be updating. It just may be at really strange times for you guys since there's like a 6 hour time difference lol Happy reading!!!
Story Tags: fiancej desksex affair love hottubsex
