Set on You

How can he be in love with me if I’m not even sure I’m in love with me anymore?

I worship this squat rack the way Mother Gothel regards Rapunzel’s magic hair. It gives me life. Vigor. Four sets of squats and I’ll be high on endorphins for at least a day, fantasizing about the strength of my thighs crushing the souls of a thousand men.

SQUAT RACK THIEF has graced Excalibur Fitness with his cocksure presence for the third day in a row. I’ve officially designated him my gym nemesis.I’ve been here for less than half an hour and I’m already fantasizing about “accidentally” spritzing him with a bottle of chemical disinfectant.

“You sure you’re not a little confused and exhausted from all those shoulder presses?” he asks, unable to squash his patronizing amusement.“I don’t get exhausted. Ever. I appreciate the concern, though,” I add, voice sweeter than Grandma Flo’s sugar pie.“Oh, I could exhaust you.”

he’s seemingly obsessed with his dog, because his Instagram bio reads Dog dad to Albus Doodledore.

“What is it about needles you don’t like?” I ask.He contorts his face, as if I’ve just asked an outrageous question, like why would one dislike diarrhea, or STDs? “They hurt.”“Says the guy who fights fires.”

I’ll admit, watching a six-foot-two alpha male fireman drink a children’s juice box is strangely attractive. Why am I more attracted to him when he’s vulnerable and in need of medical attention?

“So, are we just gonna stand here or are we working out?” I try to lower my voice to a serious tone. It fails miserably. I sound like a child trying to impersonate their stern father.He snorts, pulling a small slip of paper out of his pocket, scribbled with what appears to be a workout routine. I’m pretty sure I see the word Revenge at the top of the page, ominously underlined multiple times. “Oh, we’re working out.”

Working out with someone who could pass as a movie star is more challenging than expected.