Her phone gallery filled with gym selfies. Sweaty, flushed ones taken in locker room mirrors, her hairline damp. Others were obviously candid shots during workouts – flattering angles showcasing her newly defined arms and back muscles. Clad in skin-tight tops and shorts, the fabric sculpting every curve. Suppressing unease, I complimented her improving physique and glow. She accepted with a confident smile, her tone light. "Right? All thanks to Ryan's coaching. He really knows how to unlock potential."
First Unease
One Saturday afternoon, fresh from the shower, steam and soap scent clinging to her, hair wrapped in a towel, she stood before the full-length mirror. She turned, inspecting herself at length. Then, she pinched the soft flesh at her waist, definitely firmer now. "Ryan says this needs tightening a bit more for definition," she murmured, almost to herself or to me. "He says my natural frame is good – small bones, well-distributed flesh. With systematic training, I could achieve model-tier shape." Her fingertip traced the skin there, contemplative and expectant. That sour feeling churned inside me again, like drinking sour milk. I kept my tone neutral. "You're putting yourself through all this... for him? Isn't health the point?"
About The Look
Emily blinked, turning towards me, water dripping from her hair. "Putting myself through it? I'm investing in *my* health. What's wrong with you?" She approached, enveloped in warm humidity and scent. "Don't tell me you're jealous?" Her voice teased, but her eyes probed. Hesitating, the pent-up frustration won. "That Ryan... don't you think the way he looks at you is... excessive? Not like a trainer looks at a client." I recalled picking her up once, watching through the gym's vast windows as Ryan guided her stretch. His palm lingered on her bare back, his gaze glued to her exertion-flushed face. That look held more than "professional assessment."
NEXT >> 
