Dysmorphia

Frustration

It was a rough Wednesday morning for the lonely Isis Winters, who had much more on her mind than the gym session she had showed up so early for. Her and her husband hadn't spoken since their awful fight that took place two nights prior. She would say good morning and wouldn't even receive a grunt. When she cooked, he didn't eat. So eventually she stopped. Not like he noticed though. Or he just didn't care.

So there she was, taking her frustration out on a bench press she shouldn't have been using without proper guidance. She felt stronger than usual, or perhaps it was just her anger fueling her adrenaline. A failing marriage and Airpods blasting any Summer Walker song that fit best were an amazing combination for the perfect set of 3.

In the midst of her working out, Nasir waltzed into the gym and instantly noticed her due to the sound of her grunting and stopping every occasion to shout out a lyric that spoke to her best. His thick eyebrows furrowed, but not out of confusion. He leaned against the wall and watched as she handled the weight flawlessly, subtly licking his lips at the sight of the sweat that dripped down her torso and her pure determination to complete whatever it was she was aiming for, if it was anything. He tilted his head to right as his dark eyes scanned her body and he internally chuckled, but didn't make a sound out loud.

Deciding he had spent enough time lusting after, he approached her and took the Airpod out of her ear, startling her completely. "You know you really shouldn't be doing this without a spotter. You could hurt yourself."

"I didn't hear you come in." She counted in her head so she could finish one more set of 10 before she stopped.

"How much weight did you put on?" He placed his hands on his hips and watched her instead of the bar, curious as to where this sudden endurance came from. The very first time they attempted the bench press, the most she could do was 75.

"100." She grunted out as she mumbled the last 10.

"Better than before. Something got you worked up?" He walked around her and hovered over her head, lifting the bar so that he could place it back on the holder. She sat up and grabbed her water bottle, taking a quick swig before placing the cap back on.

"I have to be upset to want to work out now?" She avoided looking at him, because she was lying and she knew that her eyes would be a dead giveaway. She was more than upset. But who was he for him to get to know that?

"Your form was terrible. Legs weren't wide enough. Bench pressing clearly isn't your thing. Neither is lying." He watched every move she made, the wiping of her sweat with a towel and stretching of her arms. Anything to keep her busy.

"Just husband issues." She said blandly.

It was silent for a moment. He knew by the way she spoke about her marriage in the first place that it wasn't as pitch perfect as it should be. "Well that shit doesn't matter here. This ain't about him, this is about you right now. Is he here?"

"Do you have to speak to me as if I'm a child in detention? I get enough of that at home." She finally looked up at him, irritation taking over her facial expression. Nasir's blunt attitude wasn't exactly what she needed at the moment, for it truly helped nothing. But of course, he was her trainer, not her therapist. This was nothing more than money to him and he had a job to do.

"We're going for a run. I won't wait up." He began to leave the premises as she watched him walk out the door. With a shake of her head, she grabbed her phone and stuffed it into the waistband of her shorts, jogging after him to catch up. "So, tell me about this husband of yours."

Isis glanced up at him for a moment then back ahead of her. "I'm not sure what you want me to tell."

"What did he do to make you upset?"