Page 28 of The Attraction

When I wake up this morning, things don’t seem right.

Thinking back to last night and my discussion—well, borderline argument with Forrest, and it explains the uneasy feeling in my stomach.

I don’t think I slept great, which I blame on the three glasses of red wine, but at least I didn’t have the dream.

Like I said to Felisha, hopefully it was a one-off, and I can move on and forget about it again.

I stretch my body out, my muscles feeling tense. It has been a few days since I have done a workout, and it’s not doing me any good. Picking up my phone, I see it’s still early, only just after five am. Maybe if I’m lucky I can use Forrest’s gym before he wakes and at least get a run in on his treadmill.

Hopping up out of bed, I open my door as quietly as possible to see his bedroom door is still closed.

Perfect.

Grabbing my workout gear, I go to the bathroom and get changed, grab my earphones and phone, and sneak down the hallway as softly as I can. Still half asleep, I fumble with the light switch, but when it turns on and I really take in his home gym, I begin to understand why he is in such good shape.

This room is like a professional gym. So many machines and things I have no idea how to use. I am a basic trainer. I walk, run, use the bike, and can use resistance machines. There are a few weights that I will use to do a couple of exercises, and I love a good yoga stretch session.

I shake my head because really, this is just like Forrest. Making sure he has every correct machine for whatever muscle group he is trying to work out that day. It’s just like his office really. Everything in excess, but not something I can dispute because I can understand the need for it.

Thankfully, the treadmill is fairly standard, so I work out how to start it and begin walking to warm up.

Scrolling on my phone, I pick out one of my favorite podcasts to start the day. It’s lighthearted and doesn’t involve much deep concentration. Three female friends who just talk about random topics with their callers. Funny things that have happened in their workplace, bad dates they have been on, the worst pick-up line on a dating app, which I may have sent in some of the classics from over the years to them. But the main reason I listen is because they make me laugh, and it’s a good way to start the day.

Especially after last night.

I think I feel heavy this morning after lying in bed last night, resigning myself to the fact that Forrest is off the table as far as a hook-up. For many reasons, but the main one is that I don’t want to hurt him.

He may be an arrogant asshole most days, but from what I saw last night when he relaxed with me and let that barrier of his down, just slightly, Forrest has a kindness to him that he gives freely and almost demands you take what he is giving. He has some work to do on how to manage that trait, but he just needs to find someone who will bring out the best in him for that to happen.

That’s not me.

I just make him agitated, and the feeling is mutual.

As I get fifteen minutes into my walk and the podcast is heating up, it’s time to run for at least ten minutes, get that heartrate up. Because after last night’s meal, I ate enough carbs to thicken these thighs, and if that is going to happen each night, this girl is in big trouble. A little laugh slips out as the girls on the podcast are talking to a woman in New York about a disastrous date.

“Truly, he said that he eats avocado with every meal. He read somewhere that if you were ever stranded on a deserted island and you had avocados, you would survive. So even for dessert we had to have avocado ice cream—which was gross, by the way. But I was invested in this guy. He was hot and gave off big-dick energy, so I suffered through the ice cream. We headed back to his place, and the moment things were getting hot and heavy, he says he’ll be back in a moment and then returns with a container that looked like guacamole. And in my head, I’m thinking, if I have to eat this while having sex, I’m going to lose it.”

I’m laughing a bit more now, just like all the women on the podcast are at the vision she is describing.

“But no, it was worse than that. He proudly told me he had made his own lube, by mixing gel with avocado. Like, what the actual fuck.”

I can’t help it, now I laugh out loud and start talking to myself like I do when listening to a podcast.

“Why would you ever use avocado as lube? Oh, that’s gross, imagine the mess in your vag. Ugh, that’s just vomit-worthy. Oh God, and a green dick with come leaking out of it looking like mayonnaise. Why would you even try to do that?”

“You wouldn’t. That’s just fucked up.” Forrest’s deep voice scares the hell out of me, and I stumble in my running.

“Shit!” I scream as he starts laughing while I’m falling, and he catches me in his arms before I break a leg.

“Stop scaring me!” I hit his chest as he sets my feet back on the ground.

“It’s only fair, because Harper Williams, you scare the shit out of me.”

And then he walks over to the other side of the gym and gets on the bike and starts to pedal.

What the hell did that mean? I feel like I’m missing something, and I hate that feeling.

ChapterSeven

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