Just One Look
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
Chapter 6
The next morning, I was just as sore—if not sorer—than the day before. But I was determined to push through it, or die trying. So, I dragged myself to the gym like a condemned man heading for the gallows.
I arrived with two minutes to spare, and Derek’s whole face lit up when he saw me.
“Glad you made it, Pete,” he greeted me with his deep voice.
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for punishment.”
He chuckled. “This way, glutton.”
He led me to a corner with floor mats. Rachel was already there, sitting cross-legged.
“Hey, Pete. You made it,” she said, beaming. “I was starting to bet against you.”
“Glad to see I’m not the only masochist in town,” I replied, flashing a tired smile.
Derek looked between us with amused eyes. “Rachel asked if she could train with you today. That okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “Misery loves company.”
Rachel leaned in slightly. “Besides, who else is going to make sarcastic comments and grunt dramatically during stretches?”
“I have a personal brand to uphold,” I muttered, lowering myself to the mat with the grace of a wounded walrus.
“So, Pete,” Derek said, “where does it hurt the most?”
“Everywhere.”
“Legs? Arms? Chest?”
“Yes.”
Rachel laughed. “I’m not quite as sore as Pete. But I had two extra days to recover. But yeah, everything still hurts.”
“Perfect,” Derek said, like that was good news. “Both of you, sit down.”
“Sitting’s not the problem,” I said, wincing. “It’s getting back up that hurts.”
Derek settled onto the mat like a gymnast. “Legs spread comfortably.”
I tried to lower myself without groaning like an old man. Rachel moved smoothly beside me. Next to her, I looked like a before photo for a yoga infomercial.
“Deep breath, chest up,” Derek instructed.
I did as told and didn’t die, which felt like a small win.
“Now reach forward and grab your ankles.”
He folded himself in half like a closing book. Rachel did it too, effortlessly. I barely reached past my knees.
“Knees are fine, Pete,” Derek said, gently. “Just hold for twenty seconds.”
I nodded and breathed through the burn in my hamstrings. By the end, I was down to my calves. Progress.
After that, we stretched our arms, shoulders, and backs. It probably took fifteen minutes, and I already felt like I needed a nap.
Derek popped to his feet like gravity didn’t apply to him, then extended a hand toward me.
“Let’s get on the treadmill. Nothing intense. Just enough to wake things up.”
I took a breath and stepped on. “Please tell me this thing goes slower than walking.”
He smiled. “You’ll be fine.”
And truthfully, I was—for a while. The treadmill was tolerable. The elliptical StairMaster was a different story. After five eternal minutes of cardio torture, I stumbled off, wiped down my face, and gulped water like I’d crossed a desert.
From time to time, Rachel looked at me and smiled. She didn’t seem to be having such a hard time as I was.
“Still standing. Impressive.”
“I think my soul already left my body,” I gasped.
She laughed. “Well, your body’s doing great. Keep going, Pete. Seriously.”
“Only because I don’t want to look bad in front of you,” I said.
“Oh, so I’m your motivation now?” she teased.
“Only partially. The other half is, I’ve discovered I have a hidden masochist side.”
She laughed, “Whatever works.”
She had far too much peppy energy to be someone who just started exercising.
Derek reappeared. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been set on fire from the inside out. But, you know, good.”
He clapped. “Strength and core time!”
He led me over to the weights. “This machine is great, but sometimes you’ll have to go old-school with free weights.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.