Once we reached the garage/apartment where I was staying, standing at the bottom of the stairs, he faced me and brushed sweat off my left cheek with the back of his right hand. I huffed and puffed, drained from the jog. My chest continued to swell and fall. “It will get easier for you. I promise.”
“I’m really out of shape.”
“I’ll get you fit before you realize it. You can use Fitland anytime you want. No charge. My treat. As long as I can watch you work out.”
I was shocked to hear him flirt with me and became nervous, confused, and wide-eyed. “I’m a hopeless cause.”
“I doubt that. You’re a prize.”
“The worst prize ever.”
He winked at me and wiped sweat away from my right cheek with the back of his hand. The action left me befuddled, unclear of the moment until he bowed his head ever
