Page 18 of Detention with Daddies

She nudges Ivan with her elbow. “I’m going to keep an eye out for the friend request. Don’t disappoint me.”

He flashes a huge grin at her, lighting up at the extra attention.

She stands and leaves.

Not two seconds after she steps out the door, my son says all too loudly, “Dude, she’s hot.”

OLIVIA

My subjects are in high spirits when they arrive for their first movement meeting. I don’t get a single groan from the group as we gather in one of the studios.

“Okay, so this is how these group sessions are going to go. We will warm up for five minutes, getting our blood pumping before we get into the real workout. These won’t start off intense, but remember to go at your own speed. If you can push yourself to give me a level seven effort, that’s ideal, but if you only have the energy for a three or four, any movement is better than none. Right?”

I get a chorus ofrightsand smiles.

“A lot of this is going to be mental as we get on, but after a few weeks, I promise you, you will notice a difference, and the mental part will get easier. Alright, let’s twist and swing our arms.”

This is where I thrive the best. I wanted to be a personal trainer after earning my undergrad degree in kinesiology. I have my training certification, but no one would hire me because of my size.

So back to school I went, driven to prove that people my size can properly train others of all sizes. Knowledge and willpower are different beasts.

What can I say? I like to eat good food. And maybe I’m not in perfect health, but that doesn’t devalue what I can offer others.

We step and bend to get blood moving in our legs, circle our arms to get synovial fluid flowing in our shoulders.

“Okay, everyone. We’re starting easy with a walking workout.” I lead them through various steps in thirty-second intervals. Thirty on and thirty off. This will allow range of motion and for them to learn the basics before we progress into the full movements, like squats and lunges.

They build up a sweat, and I do too, sticking my hair to my forehead and neck.

I get some groans by the end, and I keep a smile on my face encouraging them to stick it out. They do, and I clap for each of them and their hard work.

“You guys should be so proud. The first day is the hardest. Don’t be surprised if you have a little soreness over the next two days. Remember to stretch. Warm up a little first, then stretch. Twenty seconds each, two to four times. Don’t overdo it. Okay?”

Several of my students turn toward the door, and I catch a glimpse of Nick leaning against the door. How long has he been watching?

“Alright. Go hit the showers. I’ll see you guys here again on Monday.”

One of the older female subjects, Carol, winks at me on the way by.

Yes, Salazar is a beautiful male specimen, especially when he’s leaning like that in the tight T-shirt and jeans. All of it hugs his muscles deliciously. But more importantly, he’s also kind and smart.

And my professor.

I can’t forget that.

He’s giving me a small grin when I turn toward him. “Looks like that went well.”

I brush my hair back from my face, taking down my hair and putting it up again to catch the flyaways. “It did.”

“You done for the day?”

I swear he’s flexing his arms at me. What does he have up his sleeve? “Just have to clean up.”

“I’ll help.” Salazar pushes off the door jam and comes in to help me roll up the mats and stack them in the closet on the far wall.

Part of me wants to be self-conscious about my sweat, but he’s an athlete. He works with athletes. He doesn’t seem to be put off by it.

In fact, his smile turns sultry as he takes in the patch of sweat along my chest.

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