The Workout

                I panted as I dropped the burdensome dumbbell to the marbled floor. ‘That’s it, coach! No more now…’ I panted harder as I inclined down to untie the lace of my Nikey. ‘But you didn’t even... ’ Buzz! Buzz! The coach pulled out the vibrating gadget and answered the call. My eyes caught the gym door which opened to make the most significant entrance of the day. He was in black shorts and he smiled at everyone in the gym as he passed them. He slowly unbuttoned his pale green shirt to reveal the red vest beneath it, while he ran his other hand through his jet black wavy hair. ‘Hey buddy, how’s it going?’ He asked Jay who strolled up to him to greet him. They were catching up on Diego Maradona. He grinned and a steep dimple flattered his smooth shaven cheek. The trainer apparently terminated his call and greeted him with a hi-5. The trainer whispered something to him that pulled out his 32 pearls, laughing, with the sound reverberating through his body and then mine. He commenced stretching his muscular arms, with no loss of enthusiasm in his voice, as I inclined down again to untie my other Nikey. His long eyelashes seemed to romance with the wind as his gaze alternated between Coach and Jay. Sweat started breaking free from his limbs. He cachinnated at a ridiculous gossip bit as he involuntarily wiped away a bead of sweat over his right eyebrow. The three walked towards the weights, where I was rolling down my socks. As his eyes caught mine, he flashed a smile which instigated a sharp twitch down my spine, well enough for a minor org***. All that escaped my face was a shy blush. I had to rotate my head a 60 degree to acknowledge the coach’s ‘Not so soon, lady. We’ve got a match to think about.’ ‘But coach! I am famished!’ I interrupted. ‘Let her go!’ He said, leaning his face toward mine and buried his dark chocolate eyes into mine. ‘She really is tired. The poor lady needs rest.’ The warmth of his body aura accelerated my pulse. The trainer gave THE look, ‘Rest, my foot!’ with mocking skepticism sketched all over his face. ‘Let her go!’ he pressed. The trainer contemplated at the wall for a while. My pulse rate aggravator slowly grabbed my middle finger and crossed it over my forefinger with an optimistic grin. ‘Oh alright! But be back by 5 am sharp tomorrow.’ ‘Thanks, coach!’ I said as I dumped my footwear into the stuffed gym bag in a cloud of hurried happiness. I turned and saw him sipping water from his bottle and said, ‘And thanks to you, too!’ His Adam’s apple ran up and down with every gulp and he finally pulled away his sipper from his mouth, over which a half shaven mustache complimented his smile. ‘Anytime!’ He said, as I was disappearing through the door, with his beautiful dimpled smile painted all over my mind.

                Do I love him because he’s beautiful or is he beautiful because I love him? :/