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Page 14 of Resistance Training

brAD

O kay, now that I’m reading through the texts, I can see that it definitely read like she was sending mixed messages and also that I never really told her how I felt about her.

But I always hung out with her. I helped her with her AP Calculus, and I hated AP Calculus.

I read whatever book she asked me to. I listened to whatever music she wanted to listen to most of the time, and I only complained about it when it was genuinely terrible.

I read the entirety of Twilight for her.

No guy would do that for a girl unless he was in love with her.

We were going to hang out at my place for senior prom like we did whenever there was a school event, but then she asked me to read Twilight and it was right before tickets went on sale for prom and Edward took Bella to prom, and I was like, Yeah, this is how I’ve felt about her all along and she must know it.

It’s like I’ve been fighting my insane attraction to the scent of her blood or whatever and this is her way of telling me she doesn’t want me to resist her anymore, she wants to become a nerd like me and she wants us to go to prom. Together.

So I spent hours trying to figure out how to get my hair to stand up like Robert Pattinson’s.

I sprayed silver sparkles all over my face, and I didn’t have time to get amber-colored contact lenses but I fucking looked up how to get them—that’s how much it mattered to me.

I frowned all the time, but I practiced looking broody.

I practiced a slow-motion swoony walk. And then I went to meet up with her on the way to school, like always, with sparkles on my face and mousse in my hair.

She was waiting for me on the corner like always, looking kind of nervous.

I handed her a red apple instead of a rose, and I said to her, “I want to take you to the prom, because I don’t want you to miss anything.

” Which was kind of a quote from Twilight .

And I asked her if she’d go to prom with me and she looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

I thought she was going to say yes, that this was exactly what she was hoping for.

Except she said softly, “Oh shit, Bradley…” And then the other Brad, my fucking nemesis, was walking down the sidewalk toward us with his dickhead friends and they were all laughing and he was like, “The fuck is this, Sparkle Fatty? She’s going to prom with me . ”

I looked at her, and she just whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Other Brad grabbed her hand and pulled her off toward school, she dropped the red apple, and I took the long way to class. I laid low at school for the rest of the day and managed to evade Vivian, Brad Turner, and all of his dickhead friends.

It wasn’t just about prom.

It was never just about prom.

I was planning to go to UW instead of Princeton so we could be together.

She didn’t know it, but I would have done that if it was what she wanted.

I didn’t go to any of the senior events except the graduation ceremony.

I wanted to skip the ceremony, but my parents strongly discouraged it.

Which is to say that my mom cried and my dad said, Now look what you’ve done .

So I went to the ceremony, didn’t make eye contact with anyone, and left as soon as it was over.

I never went to Princeton because I decided to get into fitness and wanted to start my new life, my new body as soon as possible.

Extreme reaction?

Obviously.

But I didn’t need a college degree anymore, and I didn’t want to be found.

For the rest of my life, I promised myself, I’d only do what I needed to do to be the person I want to be, and I would build a career helping others to become the person they want to be.

It was never only her that I was mad at, but it’s not like I’m going to tell her that while I’m training her.

If she wants to use her anger toward me for being angry at her, then great.

But I didn’t blame her for the way other people treated me or for not being a dick to the person who was a dick to me.

I just never wanted to feel like that again, and I sure as hell never want to feel worse.

I cut her off for the same reason I cut out junk food.

Empowerment. So I could take control of my life.

How lucky was I? I was only eighteen when I learned how devastating it is to have your soul crushed by the one person you allowed yourself to imagine was made for you. I will never make that mistake again. Not with anyone else, and I sure as hell won’t let it happen again with her.

And okay, yeah, now it has finally occurred to me that the resentment I have held on to I held on to because it kept me tied to her.

Maybe it’s the resentment I feel attracted to, not Vivian.

Nope, I am definitely, one hundred percent completely attracted to Vivian, and I’m going to choke that attraction to death in the shower now.

I don’t want to want her. And now that I’ve seen her again I don’t want anyone else to have her.

This was a terrible, horrible mistake. I’ll be hitting another personal record tonight.

And I will not be filming it for IG. I’ll be thinking about that ponytail and the exposed creamy, soft skin of her waist and upper hips and the way she glared at me when I made her do those sit-ups.

I’ll be thinking about the outline of her hard nipples and how I know it had very little to do with the temperature of the room and everything to do with the way she was squeezing her thighs together whenever she wasn’t moving.

I will imagine what it feels like to bury my face between her tits and what she tastes like between her legs and how she’d comb her fingers through my hair so lovingly and then grab me so hard because she doesn’t hold back and I like it.

I will imagine her on her knees and begging me to forgive her, and I will imagine her breathlessly screaming about how she’ll never forgive me for ruining her for all other men while I take her from behind and spank that plump, round ass that will only get rounder the longer I work with her.

And by the next time I see her, I will have gotten every possible filthy thought out of my system.

Filthy thoughts are tiny fractures.

My fortress will remain intact.

But fuck.

Her birthday’s coming up later this month. I should get her something. As a client.

My phone buzzes with a text notification from an unknown sender, and I know as soon as I see the photo of the massive salad that it’s from Vivian.

The dopamine rush I get from this is…not ideal.

But it’s just a dopamine hit. I can get that from setting a goal of cleaning the bathroom in fifteen minutes while listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and then achieving that goal. Doesn’t mean anything more that.

I add her number to my contacts before inspecting the image.

She must have ordered takeout. Piled on top of some lettuce is a ton of shredded cheddar cheese, blue cheese crumbles, gigantic croutons, and balls of fried chicken.

It looks delicious, but she cannot continue to eat like that if she’s training with me.

VIVIAN

Please note that I did not add ranch dressing.

Or a Danish.

Or ice cream.

Or pizza. I was really craving pizza.

I have almost an entire pint left of sea salt and caramel from Salt and Straw. I would rather do two extra hours of cardio this week than give up this ice cream.

That is my favorite flavor of ice cream from Salt and Straw. I only allow myself two scoops a year, and I will add licking it off every inch of her body to the fantasy menu tonight. And that will go toward my two scoops for the year.

You would have to run twelve miles to burn those calories. But suit yourself.

Enjoy that salad. In the future, here’s what I’d encourage you to include in your salads: Your base should be 30 grams of protein.

Options: Baked or grilled chicken, turkey breast, or baked salmon.

Lean cuts of grassfed steak. Get a food scale.

Add organic romaine lettuce or organic raw kale massaged in olive oil, to make the kale easier to digest. Tomatoes or organic bell peppers, as long as you aren’t allergic to nightshade vegetables.

A quarter to half of an avocado, depending on your caloric intake and output for the day.

Pistachio nuts, pumpkin or sunflower seeds, no more than two tablespoons.

Olive oil and lemon juice for dressing. Consider nutritional yeast flakes as a cheese substitute.

VIVIAN

You used to be a lot more fun to text with.

Please tell me the yeast flakes are a joke.

I never joke about nutritional yeast flakes.

VIVIAN

I’m not eating that. What about croutons?

No croutons.

VIVIAN

What about gluten free croutons?

Gluten free does not = fat free. There aren’t enough nutrients to justify adding them to an otherwise healthy salad.

Do you really want to argue with me about croutons?

VIVIAN

Kind of.

What about tacos?

What about them?

VIVIAN

They’re essentially protein-based salads in a crunchy tortilla shell.

You can eat all the tacos you want, minus the crunchy tortilla shells.

VIVIAN

You let Dolores and Cindy and Mabel eat tacos and drink margaritas.

I advised Cindy not to while I was training her, but she stays on track most of the time and she doesn’t add sour cream to anything.

VIVIAN

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you’re no fun and I’m not seeing any of the good F’s listed here in this Good Form journal. This journal makes me sad.

The fire can be anything that motivates you. Including the good F words.

VIVIAN

Feelings and fucking?

The first rule of 4F’s Club is we don’t talk about feelings. Good night.

Enjoy your salad. Drink plenty of water, add electrolytes if you have them, and stretch before bed and when you get up tomorrow.

VIVIAN

Good night, Coach.

Don’t call me Coach.

VIVIAN

Fine. Enjoy bossing me around, Mitch. I apologize for making it so hard for you to stay mad at me. It is literally impossible for me to be less charming.

I’m not going to respond to that.

VIVIAN

I just want you to know that I forgive you for not responding to my text about how charming I am, and thank you for letting me have the last word because I know how hard that is for you too. Nighty night!

Not falling for that.

But fuck.

I highly recommend not eating an entire pint of ice cream, but that’s just advice. Good night.

Page 14 of Resistance Training

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