Taking Back Beautiful (5 page)

Now I feel stupid because I’ve got a gigantic garment-sized duffel bag under my arm with a change of clothes for our supposed date later, and all he’s holding is his clipboard. Like last time, I’m already wearing my gym clothes because I’m too shy to change in front of a bunch of strange women. But I was all geared up to change into my date clothes for our, groan, “date” later. Believing Apollo was going to take me out gave me the courage I needed. But now that I realize how foolish I was for assuming he meant an honest to goodness
,
two-people-attracted-to-each-other, date, I just want to run and hide.

“You ready to work out?” he asks. “Or are we just gonna stand here all night?”
 

Why does he have to say it like that? So… mean?
I bite my lower lip and hold back tears. “Um, I need to put my gym bag back in my car.” And a moment to collect myself before I decide whether or not to drive away and never come back. I am
so
embarrassed right now.

He nods. “Yeah, I don’t think it’ll fit in the gym lockers. It’s pretty big.” The look on his face says,
You’re pretty big too. I don’t know what I was thinking when I squat fucked you.

I grimace. “I’ll be right back.”

He smiles, “I’ll be right here.”

Is he being polite? I think he’s just being polite.

I barge out the doors and nearly knock over a guy coming inside. “Sorry!” I dash across the parking structure that is attached to the gym and lock myself in my car. Tears run down my cheeks and I smear them away.

I stick my key in the ignition.

I start to turn it.

No!

I’m not doing this! I’m not running away. It doesn’t matter how foolish I’ve been. I came here to get in shape. Whether Apollo meant date or not isn’t the issue. The issue is me.

Me.

Taking back my beauty.

Not for anyone else. For me.

It doesn’t matter that Apollo was all over me last time. For all I know, he’s a manwhore who steals feels from women all the time. I’m probably the sixtieth woman he’s squat fucked this week. Just one more amusement for him.

So what?

I liked it.

And yes, if it
never
happens again, I’ll miss it. But I enjoyed it and will always remember it fondly. Why? Because it was proof that I’m not so horrid that all men find me repulsive. So I’ll hold on to my memory of Wednesday and do my best to get through today.

After, I can cry my eyes out over a bowl of ice cream, which I will regret, then come back here next week and do my very best to get in shape.

That is what I’m doing, whether or not Apollo ever gives me a second look.

I climb out of my car but I leave my duffel bag holding my date clothes on the front seat because I won’t be needing the new dress I bought special for the occasion.

I march back into the gym.

#b#b#b#

DAPHNE

“Good job,” Apollo says at the end of our hour long session. “You really nailed the squats this time.”

By “nail” he doesn’t mean anything sexual. There was no squat fucking. Not even legitimate squat spotting. Or boob staring from him while I did the lat pull down machine. It was oh so very platonic and proper. But I’m okay with that. I’m old enough to realize our little moment Wednesday was a one time thing. He probably already forgot it happened. That’s okay. It really is.

He looks at his watch. “Well, it’s nine. I promised Fiona I’d talk to her.”

“You do that,” I smirk. I can’t wait to get home so I can shower and slip into that bowl of ice cream. I turn to go.

“I only need about ten minutes,” he says.

Cellos.

I stop and turn around. “What?”

“I need to talk to Fiona real quick. One of the trainers quit today so we have to juggle everyone’s schedule around for next week. I have to pick up a few extra shifts.” He smiles sunshine.

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “Okay. Well, I should probably go. Maybe I’ll see you next week?”

He scratches the back of his head nervously. “About that…” Now he’s going to tell me this is the last time he’s ever going to coach me.

I brace myself for imminent disappointment.

He smirks, “Uhh, I was wondering. I know it’s kind of last minute, and I probably should’ve asked you this Wednesday, but would you want to go grab a bite to eat with me?”

Did I hear him right?

The puppy dog look on his face says I did.

I blurt, “What, like now?!?”

“Yes now. I haven’t eaten in hours and I’m starving.”

YES YES YES!!!
I don’t jump up and down despite my desire. “That sounds… nice.” I sound very demure.

His smile lights up. “Really?”

I grin, “Yes, really.”

“Awesome! As soon as I finish with Fiona, I’ll go change and we can get out of here. I know the perfect place on Melrose.”

“Oh? Where?”

“ReaXion. Do you know it?”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been.”

“You’ll love it.”

He said love!

“I’ll keep it short with Fiona then we’ll go.” We walk up to the front reception area together. He stops, “Wait, are you leaving?” He sounds disappointed.

“I just need to get something from my car. Real quick. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, okay,” he says, relieved.

As soon as I walk casually through the front doors into the parking garage, I sprint to my car and grab my gym bag. Then I sprint back to the doors and stop to catch my breath before opening them. My heart is beating a thousand miles an hour, and not because of sprinting.

It’s a real official date!

When I go inside, Apollo is talking to Fiona behind the counter. He glances at me, “Almost done. I’ll need two minutes to change.”

“No rush,” I smile.

Fashion Forty Fiona glares at me.

Fuck you, bitch!

I prance into the women’s locker room with a giant smile on my face. Although the locker room is empty, and the showers have individual stalls with shower curtains, I don’t think I’m comfortable showering in such a public place. Maybe some other time. I didn’t sweat that much. I’ve never been a sweater. Then again, I’ve never exercised, so maybe I should shower? No. I don’t have time and I don’t have a towel or soap or anything.

A real date!

I can’t believe this is happening.

I tear my gym clothes off with shaky hands. I manage to drop everything onto the tile floor at one point or another. I throw on deodorant, a little eyeliner which I rarely wear, and some neutral lip gloss which I never wear, and call it good. My giant frizz of curly hair is back in a ponytail like always. I never wear it down because it’s too dangerous. It’s always in my face and never behaves and nine times out of ten I’m having a bad hair day.

But you know what?

I’m about to go on a date!

With Mr. Cello himself, certified Hot Hunk Apollo Armstrong.

I’m going on a date!!!!

My very first!!!!

So I’m letting my hair down, ladies! I peel the thick hair tie (I use the ones as big as bridge cables) out of my hair and shake it out. It’s a gigantic smokey ball of hair. Then I climb into my new dress and stuff my workout clothes into my duffel and slide my feet into my strappy 3 inch sandals. On my way out of the locker room, I stop in front of a full length mirror. I primp my hair and call it good. It really needs a hedge trimmer, but at least it has plenty of body and bounce.

Okay this is it.

Now or never.

I walk through the gym to look for Apollo.

At this late hour, the place is essentially empty.

I guess Apollo is probably waiting for me at the front door? I walk up to the reception area.

Fashion Forty is at the desk but Apollo isn’t. She rolls her eyes at me.

“Ummm, did Apollo leave?”

She shrugs and turns her back to me.

Why is she so horrid?

I wait a few more minutes.

No Apollo.

Now I’m getting nervous. Did he leave?

Was this all a big prank staged by him and Fiona to break my heart? He wouldn’t do that, would he? She would. But would he? My face heats. I hope he wouldn’t.

Fiona smirks at me.

I can’t stand here with her staring at me. I consider putting my giant duffel bag in my car because I want Apollo to see me in my dress, not me hiding behind my giant bag. But if I go and do that, he may wonder where I went. He did say he was going to change. Maybe he’s still changing. So I walk back toward the locker rooms.

And wait.

Gosh, this isn’t going to backfire on me, is it?

The cellos play: “Sorry about that,” Apollo says.

Relief washes over me. I turn expecting to see him in his purple polo and black khakis. Nope. He’s wearing a stylish steel gray V-neck sweater with black accents. It’s glued to his chest and shoulders and I can make out every muscle. Black jeans cling to his muscled legs and black dress shoes complete the look.

He is stunning.

I giggle, “You clean up nice.”

“So do you.” His smile rises like the morning sun. “Nice dress.”

“I wore it because you liked blue.”

He grins, “Yeah I do. Especially on you.” His eyes slide up and down my color block dress.

The middle panel is of course blue, and the outside panels with the cap sleeves are black. The woman at Lane Bryant said it was slimming and based on the look on Apollo’s face, it’s working it’s magic. I’ve never had a guy look at me with so much naked desire. The square neck of the dress doesn’t show cleavage, but Apollo is acting like it does.

After he finishes staring, he smiles, “Sorry I took so long. I hopped in the shower real quick because I’ve been here all day surrounded by sweat.”

“Awww, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Are you kidding? I totally did. For you.”

I am both flattered and freaked. “Um, I didn’t shower. Maybe I should? I can shower really fast, I promise!” Panic sets in because he smells incredible. I can’t tell if it’s just him or his cologne, but he smells like M.A.N. The kind who wrestles crocodiles with one hand or fights tigers with a threatening look that says,
Settle down, Stripes. I’m the king of this here jungle.

I probably smell like a dirty kitchen mop.

He steps right up to me and leans down. His face is inches from my naked neck. He inhales slowly.

I wince, expecting him to gag. Not that I stink, but I didn’t shower and he did.

In his dirtiest Cello voice (played on the low and manly C string, the thickest fattest deepest one) he says, “You smell like sex to me. Don’t shower. I want to smell you all night. Just like this.”

“Ummm…” Goosebumps!! We’re talking my entire population of skin geese flying south for the winter! And by south, I mean the whole flock of them is migrating straight down to
my
south because my panties just became a tropical paradise. Think hot and humid and sinfully sultry like nobody’s business.

Now I really do need a shower. Or at the very least a change of panties.

Somebody grab a bucket!

Chapter 8

DAPHNE

Unlike the gym, ReaXion on Melrose is packed with people and loud. We can’t even get a table. The hostess tells us the wait is two hours.

“I didn’t realize it would be this crowded.” Apollo sighs and turns to me, “Do you want to eat at the bar? We might be able to find a table in there.”

“Okay.” I’m suddenly nervous that we won’t find one and he’ll say,
Oh well. Maybe next time.
But there won’t be a next time.

He leads me into a crowded room that is louder than the restaurant section. The bar is all dark wood and straight lines mixed with rough-hewn rock walls. Softly glowing lights like starbursts hang from the ceiling at random intervals and at random heights. It’s beautiful.

It turns out that walking in 3 inch heels is not my forte. But I do my best. Which means I wobble. I’m used to flats. “Oops!” I nearly twist my ankle.

“I’ve got you,” Apollo says, wrapping a strong arm around my waist.

“You saved me,” I joke sarcastically because having his arm on my waist is so overwhelming I can’t even deal with it. So I joke.

“Yeah I did,” he smiles down at me.

“How tall are you, anyway?”

“Six four.”

“Geez. You’re way taller than me.”

He glances at my boobs. “Great view too.”

“Apollo!”

He chuckles. “Let’s find a table.” Luckily, a tall bar table in the far corner is open. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect.” It’s perfect because I can’t help but notice that nearly every woman in the bar here at ReaXion is staring at Apollo. So are many of the men. We’re pretty close to West Hollywood, after all. I’m more than happy to take a table in the corner so we can get away from prying eyes.

He pulls a barstool out for me and I sit. He literally lifts me
and
the stool up and scoots me up to the table.

“Oh!” I blurt. “How strong are you?”

“Strong enough,” he smirks as he sits down.

We start talking immediately. Our conversation flows naturally and is just as much fun as it was on Wednesday. This is the Apollo I know and, um, enjoy. Really,
really
enjoy. One might say I
lenjoy
him. Lenjoy with an L.

After a while, he looks around the frantic bar. “Where’s our waitress? It’s been a half hour since we sat down.”

“Oh, I’m okay.” I really am. Being with Apollo makes everything okay. I’m not even hungry after working out, which is good. The less calories the better.

“You need food. I need food. Or at least water. Can’t have you getting dehydrated. Or passing out from low blood sugar after a workout.” He pushes out his stool. “What do you want from the bar?”

“Water is fine.” I’m sure he’s right about the low blood sugar thing, so I don’t want to get my calories from alcohol or a soda. I know
that
much about nutrition.

“Okay. Two waters. I’ll be right back.”

While I wait, I scan the restaurant. I can’t get over how beautiful everyone is here at ReaXion. People aren’t nearly as attractive up in Van Nuys where I work, and that’s only a few miles from here. But we are near the heart of Hollywood. It’s somewhat intimidating. I remind myself that I look good in my dress. And I feel good.