Marshall's Girl

2

I wake up, get out of bed, and then stand on my sore legs from the day prior. I laugh at myself because I had just a tiny little dream about Marshall and woke up right before anything got good. We made out in this dream. 

Maybe I have a little crush on this random guy from the gym.

I look over at the ringing alarm, turn it off, and walk over to the bathroom. Walking over to the sink, I put two pumps of face wash into my hand and start rubbing my face; then I rinsed it. I then brush my teeth and floss. 

My hair is in a low ponytail that I always sleep in. I take out the hair tie and begin to brush my long and tangled hair. Once my hair is knot-free and back to its smooth and shiny state, I walk back into my room and into my closet, where I decide to pull out a matching light blue sports bra and legging set.

Once I'm dressed, I make my way out of my townhouse and into my sporty black car. I drive five minutes to TFC, and I greet Anthony as I walk in.

"I saw you talking to the new guy here yesterday; what was that about?" He asks. I smile and say, "Oh it was nothing, just a friendly introduction." 

He looks at me with suspicion. "Let's not have a baby with him, alright?" I laugh, walk to my machine, and start my workout.

About halfway through, I hear the bells on the glass door chime through my headphones. I turn my head, and I see Marshall walk in carrying a double bag with gym attire, I'm guessing. Today he's wearing a white wifebeater paired with black joggers and some Nike tennis shoes. 

He spots me, turns his chin up with a small nod, and greets me. I smile in his direction and get back to my run on the treadmill. I see in the corner of my eye that he makes his way to the locker room.

It takes about five minutes for him to come back out, and to my surprise, he takes the only open treadmill next to me. He nods at me again, and he starts to turn on his treadmill. I continue running at a normal pace and focus on my breaths so I don't tire out quickly.

I see him enter his goal of a mile. I know I'm not running a mile before my workout. Yesterday, he was doing pull-ups and benching. He does all of that after a mile run? "You always run a mile before your workout? I ask.

 " Yeah, is that a problem?" He says it with a raised brow. "Not at all, Mr. Incredible. Mrs. Incredible must love her strong manly man." I laugh.

 "I ain't go not "Mrs." and I ain't no Mr.Incredible."

I laugh it off and start my run. He turns on his treadmill and pulls up his headphones from around his neck to meet his ears.

He doesn't have a "Mrs.", so he's single. 

He's running with ease; he doesn't seem to struggle. I keep glancing over at him, and he has his headphones covering both ears. 

I have been running for 20 minutes, and I usually only run for 30. 

Ten more minutes, and I get to smell the cologne he's wearing. He didn't smell like cologne yesterday; maybe he wore it to get my attention. 

What the fuck am I thinking? He is not wearing cologne; he is not trying to impress me.

The last ten minutes of my run come to an end, and I stop the treadmill. I take my water and begin to swallow it in big sips. I catch my breath and take my hand towel to wipe the sweat droplets that have formed above my eyebrows. I face Marshall, and he is right over a quarter of a mile done.

I take a yoga mat and place it on the floor in a place empty of machines. I start my stretching routine with no new moves. 

Like normal, I stretch my arms and shoulders, move my neck, and hold each of my legs up to stretch my hamstrings. I was sore this morning because I didn't bother stretching a second time yesterday.

 I bend over to touch my toes, and I feel the pull in my leg muscles. When I stand up straight, I catch Marshall looking at me through the mirror. He doesn't lose the eye contact; I keep it. I'm no coward. I give a light smirk and bite my lip. He finally looks away, and I start to roll my mat up and put it away.

I continue to work on my core, and enough time has passed that I see Marshall step off of his treadmill. He goes over to the bench and starts to load his rack. His muscles pop when he picks up each plate. 

I'm practically drooling over this man. And I think he might have a thing for me after the mirror incident. His piercing blue eyes still leave a feeling in me that I can't quite describe.

The bench he loaded with 150 pounds is right next to the bench I use for the rest of my core workouts. I don't want to seem like I'm following. But I still go over and do my ordinary workout. 

"Yo, can you spot me?" I hear him through my music. I take one out, and I get up. "Sure."

I get up and walk over to the bench. I stand right behind him at the head of the bench, and he lies down. His head is placed maybe two inches away from my thighs. He looks up at me before he places his veiny hands on the silver metal bar. 

I watch how his arms look after they are holding up the weight of the bar. His muscles are defined, and veins travel up from his hands across his forearms.

His tattooed sleeves are such a turn-on for me; I love tattoos. I wonder if he has more.

He bends his elbows, and the bar goes down to his puffed chest. He exhales before pushing the bar back into the air. He does this for 20 reps before he sets the bar back on the rack above him. He sits up, and the red color from his face to his neck starts to fade, he grabs his water to drink. "

"You didn't need a spot," I say, walking back over to my bench. "And if the bar fell on me and crushed me, how would you feel?" He speaks in a smart tone.

"But it didn't. And you didn't seem to be struggling that much."

He opens his mouth to say, "Maybe I needed some motivation above me." He pulls his headphones back over his ears.

Motivation? What did he mean by motivation over him? I did catch him looking up at me after each rep. If this is his way of flirting, soon he will be seeing me over him a lot more. Especially in his bed.