“Go ahead and get started on the treadmill. I’ll be over in fifteen.” I don’t give her time to reply. I’m already jogging down the hall and to the breakroom. Taking a peek out the window, I see Gabby climb into my truck and pull away.
“You good?” Harrison asks.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need to stop at the hardware store on the way to her place.” He doesn’t ask why, just nods and walks out of the room.
I have a few weeks to show her that I’m not the man she thinks I am. In that same amount of time, I have to convince her that she’s all I see. She thinks that in three weeks she’ll be done with me; she has no idea I’m just getting started.Chapter ThreeGabby 3* * *Okay, driving this big ol’ beast of a truck is a hell of a lot different than my little car. I feel like I’m looking down at everyone and afraid these big ol’ tires will crush the little people below me. I can’t imagine driving this beast every day, but for some reason, I can totally picture Chase behind the wheel, his elbow resting on the window frame, his tattooed bicep on full display, and his thumb strumming on the steering wheel to the beat of the song.
The image is sexy as all get out.
No, Gabrielle. It’s not. Stop thinking of Chase as sexy.
Chase isn’t sexy. He’s my friend.
My totally hot doable friend, but whatevs.
Exhaling loudly, I steer the beast into my parking lot, taking up two spots because I can’t park for shit. While the trainers all keep their own schedules, I know Chase’s, and I know Monica is his last client of the day. As manager, he splits his time between the other All Fit locations and training his clients. My priority is keeping Harrison on track, but I’ve taken on the extra duty of managing Chase too. It’s just easier to know where he’s going to be and when without sending him a billion text messages on behalf of my boss. Plus, I’m pretty sure Chase appreciates my organizational skills. He only balked for a few minutes when I offered, but quickly saw the advantages of having me keep his schedule.
I let myself into my apartment, locking the door behind me. Dying to get out of my gray pencil skirt, and top, I head to my bedroom, tossing my purse on the couch along the way. There are boxes stacked everywhere. I was fortunate to grab a few from a small shipment we received at work last week, but then grabbed a bunch from a grocery store too. So far, I’ve had enough to pack up my apartment, but I’m not sure that’ll be the case with everything. I haven’t even started on the bedroom yet.
Once I find a pair of workout shorts and a tank in my pile of to-put-away laundry (that’s been stacked up for three days), I flip on my Bluetooth speaker and blast P!nk. She’s my fave. My unicorn. My hall-pass lesbian lover, if I were to ever swing that way. There’s just something about her rad hair, her I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude, and those magnificent pipes God gave her that makes her the best female artist ever.
I grab an empty box and head to my closet. It’s not pretty, I’ll be honest. As methodical as I am at work, those skills haven’t exactly seeped into my closet organization. I start grabbing shoes and toss them into the box. Before I know it, the box is full. Then another. Yeah, I’m a total shoe whore. I love them. Everything from sexy pumps to comfy sneakers. And flip-flops? I’ve probably got fourteen pairs in there. When I finally dig through the pile, I end up with three large boxes full of shoes. I grab the marker and write SHOES across the top before trying to move it over to the wall. They’re a little heavier than I anticipated, but with a little booty power, I finally slide them out of my way.
With another box ready to go, I dive into my clothes. The hangers are tossed on my bed as I fold each piece and stack it inside. Fine, I throw it inside, but whatever. Between each piece deposited in the box, I do a little shimmy and hip shake, singing along about revenge on a cheating ex. God, I love P!nk.
By the time I get through my closet, I have two bags of trash and older clothes that either don’t fit or aren’t my style anymore and a few more boxes ready to go. I feel good about this whole move thing, even if it’s to Chase’s place. I’m still not convinced it’s the right move, but it will be nice not to live in that place across from the jail. Hopefully, Chase will come through with the new doorknob and I won’t have to worry about issues with privacy or anything.