Kendra wasn't shy at all when it came to flexing her muscles, and flex she did, bench pressing way more than what my brain considered sane, or what I could've been capable of in my previous world without at least a solid year of consistent practice. She was probably the equivalent of a tier two athlete—fit enough to train or exercise professionally.
And I was left quite speechless as I found myself wondering, where did all that strength come from? You'd expect a jacked dude, a man of size and built with plenty of testosterone, maybe with a cool beard and an attitude, to pull off the superhuman strength.
Not a sweet-looking brunette woman. And while she had a visible outline of firm and muscles underneath the workout shirt that was practically pasted onto her sweaty body, well, she looked soft as well when she was in a relaxed state.
Her upper arms were toned but not muscular or ripped, while her figure overall had that long and graceful frame that was an objective contrast with the standard body type men would associate with athleticism.
It was... confusing.
I felt like she was breaking several laws of physics. Or perhaps this world had entirely different laws. Or maybe I just had to rethink my preconceived notions entirely.
My jaw might have dropped.
"We can increase the weight, this isn't my max."
"I... see." I had to clear my throat, feeling a weird knot in my stomach. I was not, by any standard, a weakling in my previous life. I had done my fair share of physical work, but it had been... different. I'd never been to a gym. The heaviest I'd lifted was probably a bag of soil. Not gravel, soil. "You're... strong."
Okay, this could be a little problem, if she ever decided to throw hands with me.
Fuck.
"Gym lady powers, remember." Kendra wiped the sweat off her forehead with a towel and winked. "Come on, let's add another twenty on both sides."
She lay back down on the bench as I absent-mindedly picked up the dumbbells and loaded them onto the bar.
Gym Lady Powers. What the actual fuck.
How much was she about to lift right now? I gave the numbers a cursory, dumbfounded calculation.
That had to be around 100 kg of total weight, and it looked like she'd probably break that record soon, too.
I still stood stiffly behind the rack, speechlessly wondering how that even worked, watching as the beautiful brunette put both her arms under the weight, straightened them, breathed deeply once, twice, pressed her foot firmly on the floor and heaved the whole weight upward until it locked into place.
She lowered the bar to her chest.
My brain clicked into emergency mode as I realized I was just standing there gawking while she hoisted what looked like a small car. The bar wobbled slightly on the way up. Not having any other experience with proper lifting, naturally, that sent alarm bells ringing through my head.
Without thinking, I moved to spot her, hands hovering just under the bar.
"Whoa—"
Kendra's eyes shot open, wide and startled, and I suddenly realized the angle I'd taken—directly above her head, bent over, essentially putting my crotch at eye level. She was looking up at me, face flushed from exertion, and then her expression shifted from strain to panic.
"Back up!" She gasped out, struggling with the weight. "Get back—"
I scrambled backward as she managed to rerack the bar with a clang that echoed through the gym.
She sat up, breathing hard. Wouldn't even look at me properly.
"Sorry." I said, feeling horribly awkward and confused. "I thought you needed a spot."
"No." She said, still breathing heavily. "No, I had it. Just... give me some space."
Her hands were shaking slightly, gripping the edge of the bench. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground.
For a brief moment, some of the other women looked our way. Most went back to their own workout, but a few stared with a frown or open curiosity at what might have just occurred.
"Right." I nodded. "Space. Got it." I stepped back another few paces for good measure.
When she finally looked at me, her expression was a mixture of a dozen different emotions, from disbelief to shame, her cheeks and ears beet red.
"You're... uh... really strong." I said, trying to break the tension with the most obvious observation possible.
A weak smile touched her lips. "Yeah, well..." She muttered, mostly to herself, then looked away again. "Nobody ever says that to me."
I didn't ask her why.
I wasn't her therapist.
A small part of my brain began filing away the event. 'Attempt to spot a woman lifting heavy weights = high probability of inducing emotional distress. Avoid.'
It could be dangerous. What if she was trying to hit a new PR and my spotting had them drop the entire damn thing on top of them? Who would they ask for help?
Certainly not a strong and independent man.
She was still staring at the floor with her hair falling down to cover most of her face.
I decided to backtrack and give her even more space. "Thanks for the tips, by the way. I think I'm good for today." I reached for my water canteen, only to realize it was empty.
"You... you can have mine." She offered, still not quite looking at me.
I stared at the hand squeezing and deforming the plastic bottle.
She was aiming, shoving it, in my direction like a gun. Not that it was threatening or anything, but her avoidance of any eye contact and the stiffness of her movements made the offer feel like a bit of a landmine.
Especially considering the scenario that had just played out.
I had no idea what the fuck that was about. Was she embarrassed because I saw her struggling? Was it because I'd tried to spot her? Was it because I'd stood over her head and she'd seen something she shouldn't have?
"It's alright. I'll grab one from the cooler." I smiled, hoping it was a safe expression. "Thanks for your help, I learned a lot."
"Yeah..." She looked up, but only for a moment, before she quickly glanced away. "I'm glad I could... uh..."
I waited.
She didn't finish the sentence.
I gave a half-hearted shrug. "See you around, I guess?"
"Mh-hmm."
"Thank you again, Ken. You've been super helpful."
She smiled, not that I could see it properly with her facing away from me.
I walked away, feeling like I'd somehow done another social faux pas.
The back of my neck prickled as I made my way towards the front counter.
Whatever I'd done, it was clear that it had thrown her off balance. And that was a shame, because she'd been fun to talk to, and I'd have appreciated having a regular, no-strings-attached training buddy.
Oh well.
xXx
Willow must've been waiting by the phone, because the moment I texted her a vague 'Heading out now', I got an instant response.
'Coming to get you.'
And there must've been a misinterpretation there, because her 'coming' meant running to the gym in less than five minutes to pick me up. I even wondered whether she had driven here instead of walking as we'd done earlier.
"You're already here?"
You wouldn't have been able to tell, with that face. Clear skin. No sign that she'd been running. But her breathing was just a tad bit quicker than usual, the flush on her cheeks a tad bit brighter. Perhaps not running, but definitely speed-walking or something.
"I was already on the way when you texted."
Her bright silver eyes scanned me from head to toe, as if I'd been out in the streets, begging for money.
"Right..." I decided to accept that as the truth.
"Let's go, Damien." Willow would've definitely grabbed me by my hand or wrist if I hadn't moved away at the last second. I didn't feel comfortable getting dragged around like some puppy or child; in fact, I didn't feel comfortable having someone pick me up in the first place.
"......"
There was a slight silence as we both walked side by side. She had offered to carry my stuff, with me gently refuting.
"... how was it?" Willow finally asked after a minute or so of quiet strolling. I could almost sense that begrudging hope that I'd somehow quit on the first day; or better yet, that she had convinced me that my masculinity and gender didn't have a thing to do with weightlifting.
"It was great!" I beamed.
My mother's face turned expressionless. "Did you try anything difficult or stressful...?"
"Nothing too stressful. It was my first day, after all. Took it a bit easy to get the feel, so to speak." I hummed thoughtfully. "No one really bothered me. Everyone was polite."
"Really...?" Willow frowned in suspicion. "No one approached you?"
"Well..." I tilted my head. "There was this one trainer who approached to give me some tips, that's it."
Whether there was some hidden agenda behind Kendra's behavior towards me, I couldn't discern it at the time. Even though she was nervous as hell around me. Besides, she did seem genuine in her advice and help.
A hot gym girl stops what she's doing to help you out, looks and sounds genuinely interested and like she's having fun doing so. What's there not to like? Certainly not a red flag, though I could understand Willow's mama-bear paranoia.
"What trainer?"
My mother inquired sharply.
"Some girl that works there, apparently. She was very sweet and friendly. Was more than happy to assist, no problems at all. Didn't ask for my number or anything. Respectful and nice." I couldn't say more. It'd sound suspicious to describe someone in detail that I didn't know.
"Damien." She spoke as if the next few words would be life-changing and groundbreaking. "Sweet isn't what you need from a trainer."
That was probably a reasonable point.
"......"
I decided to stay quiet.
"It's not too late, if you want to switch gym, we can, dear." Willow's eyes sparkled. "Or, if you want, we can buy everything you need for an at-home gym..."
"We've talked about this, Mom."
"Indeed, we have." She sighed, not even trying to hide the disappointment.
She dropped the topic, but clearly still didn't fully let her guard down.
...
The front door hadn't even fully closed behind us before the questions started.
"Well?!" Ivy's voice came barreling down the hallway before she did, skidding into the foyer in socked feet, nearly losing her balance on the hardwood. "How was it? Did you die? Did someone faint? Did you—"
"No one fainted." I said. "Well, not that I'm aware of."
Someone could've very well fainted somewhere within earshot and not where I could witness it, for example in the locker rooms. Who knows, maybe someone else also needed CPR and got it right there in the girl's showerroom.
She paused. A million questions seemed to crowd on her lips, each jockeying for the one to slip out, though the clear winner was a single, plaintive. "That's lame."
Iris slowly appeared as well, doing a quick scan of my body, but she did it very respectfully. "You look... sweaty. Are you okay?"
"Well, that's what happens when you exercise. And yes, I'm fine."
Ivy eyed me doubtfully. "Did anyone talk to you? Did you talk to anyone? Mom, did he talk to anyone?"
"Ivy, not now." Willow sounded resigned, slipping out of her shoes and padding across the hallway towards the bathroom.
Iris blinked, alternating her gaze between both her sister, her mother, and me.
When her eyes landed on me, she did that thing again where she'd cock her head in that shy angle, exposing that beautiful neck and pale skin. A vampire's dream prey. I always found myself a little mesmerized.
I did have a thing for beautiful necks, but I didn't think it'd be healthy to practice such thoughts on my sister, of all people.
'Let's not go down that road… we don't deal with dem ting.'
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