Page 17 of D.I.E.T. (Did I Eat That?)

Shake it off, woman, I tried to remind myself while watching Sinjin warming up to get his workout on. God, he was hot. Resistance failing.

“Missed you yesterday,” Trevor said and I looked to him, blinking.

The next time I decided to do something stupid like join a bootcamp, I was for sure joining one for the over sixty set thus ensuring I wouldn’t make a fool of myself by getting distracted staring longingly at a super-hot, fun, witty, intelligent—stop, Geet, you’re doing it again. “Um, what?” I asked.

“You didn’t come to class yesterday,” he reminded me.

“I—yeah. Family obligation Sunday. Stayed at my sister’s and couldn’t make it in.” He didn’t need to know more than that. I’d stuck to my diet and walked enough miles shopping to equal walking to Florida and back. Well, maybe notthat far, but close.

“Well, come on. Let’s get you weighed,” he said with his hand out, waving me over. “You’re doing great at keeping your partner on track. Sinjin had the biggest single weight loss of the class yesterday, didn’t you?” He looked over to Sinjin, who smiled one of those pretty-pleased-with-himself smiles.

Feeling confident because I knew I ate better than Sinjin, I stepped up on the scale. And my face dropped as I realized my horror as Trevor spoke it. “Looks like you’ve gained since last week.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I can only go by what the scale says, Brigeeta. Let’s get your measurements.”

“No. Check it again. Your scale has to be broken. There’s no way Iwent up.This is bull. I cut out red meat, cut out almost all fat and gave up all the best carbs. Baked fish. No sauce. Salad. No dressings.” And then I completely lost it. With tears in my eyes, I screamed, “I atebrown rice, for God’s sake.” Sinjin jogged to my side, though his attempt to soothe me backfired. “Don’t touch me,” I shouted at him next. “You ate lo mein and dumplings! You ate General Tso’s beef and carbonara.”

I stomped away from him, taking my spot to the back of the room. Trevor could shove his ‘measurements’ down his incredibly fine pie hole. Ignoring the rest of the group, I picked up two fifteen-pound weights and started counting off. Sinjin tried to talk to me, but I turned away from him, refusing to speak to the man, and when he tried to talk to me anyway, I turned my music up.

Arm lifts. Squat. Stand. Lift again. And repeat. For twenty minutes, this went on until Trevor ordered us to get with our partner to toss the medicine ball back and forth. Had to give it tomy partner. He had perfect form holding the heavy ball against his chest and shoving out to toss it to me. I caught it and whipped it back. He tossed lightly again. I whipped it back harder. It went on like this until I started practically pegging the poor guy with the ball. On his last turn, he went a little harder and I dropped it. The stupid thing landed on my big toe and that was it. I had enough and stomp-limped out of there to the shower room.

The whole time I stood under the spray, I thought about that morning’s phone call. With the time difference, Kami had to catch me when she could, and that stupid call totally consisted solely of talk about Sinjin. I didn’t want to tell her of his hotness or admit to him being fun and friendly, but I had no choice as apparently, Dion and Henri had been running their mouths.

“Bring him,” she’d said. “I want to meet your guy. This is so cool, Geet.”

“He’s notmy guy, Kam. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“He introduced himself to Dion as your special friend, babe. Not sure how much more ‘your guy’ he can get.”

“He was kidding. He—”

Her words got cut off by giggling. The kind a girl did when the man she loved was getting frisky. I hung up to ready myself for class. Remembering how Sinjin had been the night before, coupled with Kami and Len getting handsy on the other end of the line, I’d come to a decision, fully intending to talk to Sinjin about possibly being my plus one when I walked into camp this morning. But now I was so angry and disheartened I could spit nails. He ate everything he shouldn’t andlost weight. I did everything right andgained it.

Even as I dressed and blew out my hair, the anger and sadness increased instead of dissipating. The first man in years that I liked enough to ask to go on a trip with me. The first man I liked enough to want to introduce him to my friends. The first man I liked enough to simply let himhangwith me, and I didn’t know if I could get past this.

I worked every day to keep my relationship with the numbnut good. Still, it hadn’t been enough.Ihadn’t been enough. “Geet, why can’t you look more like those girls?” He’d point to the television screen or if we were out, over to a group of women he apparently found attractive. Numbnut never worked out. He simply had ‘one of those metabolisms.’ Well, whoopty-freaking-dah. Good for you, Numbnut. Not all of us did, with the exception, it seemed, of Sinjin.

Stewing in your own self-pity was never a good look. Making things even worse, right as I stepped out of the locker room, a horrible, loud sob ripped itself from deep in my disheartened soul. I collapsed from the weight of my despair. Could anyone sayhumiliating? Though Sinjin caught me, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, he scooped me up bride-style and carried me out of the gym to his truck where he continued to hold me as he unlocked the door to slide me onto the seat.

He climbed in next to me, tossing my bags in the back and starting the engine to heat us up. Pulling me over to him, he wrapped me protectively in those strong arms as I continued to cry while he pressed his forehead to mine. “Geet… Shh… Hey, beautiful, what’s wrong?”

“It’s stu-stupid.” I stuttered, then hiccupped.

“Can’t be stupid if it’s bothering you this bad, sweetheart. When’s your first client?”

“Not… Not… till eleven today.” And stupid me, I squeezed him even harder. He felt good in my arms, like he belonged there, and thus, I didn’t want to let go.

Sinjin had no trouble letting me go, which he did to reach across me to the seatbelt. He clicked it into place, clicked his own, and then to my surprise, he pulled me to his side by wrapping an arm around my waist. One handed, he shifted into reverse and backed us out of the spot. Then, putting it into drive, he drove us away from the gym. Not toward The Golden Dragon, which had sort of become our place, either. He turned in the opposite direction. We drove for about twenty minutes before he turned into an upscale subdivision, pointing out each street he turned down.

“Main entrance to Fern Leaf,” he said, turning right, which happened to be the only way you could turn onto Fern Leaf Drive. “Left onto Oak Leaf,” he said next, until ending with, “Right onto Willow.” The end of Willow Lane had a circular cul-de-sac. Sinjin pulled into the driveway of a beautiful, large home at the very back. Tan stucco rather than siding and what looked like terracotta roofing tiles gave the place a Spanish or Mediterranean feel. The trim had been painted all white, which also lent itself to that light, airy vibe. Sinjin pressed a button on the garage door opener and drove the truck inside to park next to an expensive sportscar. He turned off the engine as the garage door closed us in.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

“You need to talk. I thought we’d do it somewhere comfortable.”

“But I yelled at you in public. Why are you being so nice to me?”

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