Lydia taps her foot impatiently as the woman at the front desk, whose faded, worn name-tag identifies as 'Carol,' complete with poorly drawn little smiley face and all, pulls up the information they need on her computer.
"The next class doesn't start until 9, if you're willing to wait a little bit— they're on their break right now. Lucky for you two, there are still a couple of spots open. Our classes are usually pretty limited in size, that way each of our trainers can provide personal attention to each individual trainee at some point during the class."
Lydia's eyes light up at the mention of receiving personal attention from the trainers (with one trainer in particular in mind, of course), and slaps her hand down on the desk, making the woman—'Carol :)'—jump.
"Great! Sign us up, then."
Carol smiles warmly at Allison, who appears the perfect picture of fitness, but frowns as she looks back to Lydia— who's very obviously never stepped foot in a gym before in her life— and eyes her suspiciously.
"And what exactly is it that you're training for? I have to warn you, this is a very intense class..."
"That's none of your business," Lydia snaps, and Carol sighs in defeat.
"Very well. Any preference as to which trainer you ladies would like to be paired with?"
"Yeah," Lydia's eyes are suddenly bright again and her lips are curled into a wicked smile. "Yeah, I want Cora Hale, please."
(In more ways than one, she thinks to herself—but poor old Carol doesn't need to know those details.)
Carol's eyebrows seem to shoot up into her hairline in surprise as she looks Lydia up and down again, shaking her head incredulously.
"Are you sure about that? Cora's methods are rather...severe. She's very hard on her trainees, works them into the ground really, and she won't coddle you through any of it. Don't expect to hear 'good job' or 'keep up the good work' or any of that if Cora is your trainer. Her idea of encouragement is not the nice 'you can do it' kind of approach. And her brother Derek used to be pretty much the same, although he's definitely softened up a bit ever since Scott McCall started working here. Scott's the one we usually get people making requests for—he's got a much, well, nicer approach to things. I've only ever heard good things about him from his clients; all of them say he's very friendly and encouraging. He's just got this way with people—it's practically impossible not to like the kid."
Lydia is examining her nails, barely paying attention to anything Carol is saying, because her mind has already been made up, and once she's got her mind set on something there's no use trying to change it.
"I'd like to be with Scott," Allison chimes in, obviously won over. "It's not that I can't handle Cora or Derek or their training style, it's just that I'm so hard on myself already, it might be nice to have someone positive and encouraging helping me out for a change."
The woman behind the counter nods and types something into her computer before looking back up at them.
"Alright, I've put you two in the 9:00 class. It meets ever Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and you'll start up today. Good luck," she says, and although she's addressing both of them, she's looking right at Lydia as she says it, as if to imply 'you're going to need it."
Lydia fishes through her purse for money for the entrance fee to the class, insisting on paying for Allison too despite her friend's protests (because this was her idea, after all).
And so they wait where they're told to wait, and gradually other people join them as 9:00 draws closer and closer, people who Lydia assumes must be in the class, too. She tries not to think to much about how muscular and in shape most of them look already, but she can't help the sudden feeling of nervousness flooding through her veins.
Finally they're rounded up by the trainers, and each of them calls out the names of the people on their list. Allison waves a quick goodbye to her as Scott calls her name, and Lydia smirks at the flustered look on her friend's face when Scott stares at her with warm, brown eyes and flashes her a dimpled smile.
Cora calls Lydia's name, and although she doesn't give her anything remotely close to a smile, Lydia is sure she must look just as flustered as Allison.
Because if she thought that Cora looked good from far away, that's nothing compared to seeing her up close, and Lydia practically has to restrain herself from reaching out and feeling the muscles standing out on the biceps of her tightly crossed arms.
It's not until Cora has called the other four people on her list that she really looks up from her clipboard and gets a good look at them all, her eyes coming to rest on Lydia. Her gaze is cold and judgmental, and her expression isn't the least bit friendly as she stares at her through narrowed eyes. Lydia does her best not squirm under her gaze—she's not one to be intimidated by other people, but there's something about the way that Cora is looking at her that makes her feel anxious.
Lydia does her best to control her emotions, to slow down the rapid beating of her heart as Cora goes around and asks what everyone's current level and physical ability is and realizing too late, as everyone else is giving their answers, that she is in way over her head.
When Cora finally gets to her, all Lydia can do is blink at her, completely lost for words.
Cora pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs in frustration before repeating the question with exaggerated slowness.
"What is your current level of physical activity?"
"Well...I walk my dog Prada every morning and evening. That counts for something, right?" she replies cheekily with the only thing that she can think of.
Lydia swears she can practically hear Cora growl at her answer.
"Oh, come on," she says, trying to appease the situation, "not even a little smile? You know that was funny."
But Cora clearly doesn't think anything of the sort, because she continues to glare at her, eyes blazing with anger.
"Do you think this is a joke? There are people who came here prepared to work hard, and here you are just wasting my time. Why are you even here?"
Lydia thinks it would probably sound a bit over-dramatic to say 'for you' and resists the urge to blurt it out anyway.
Instead, she makes herself stand a little taller, squares her shoulders, and looks Cora straight in the eye, refusing to look away despite the fact that Cora is still glaring daggers at her.
"Calm down, sweetheart. I'm here to work hard, too. I want to be stronger, like my friend Allison."
Cora bristles at the word 'sweetheart,' at Lydia's audacity to address her as such, but she can't find cause to argue with her reason—and she's momentarily appeased.
"Alright, then, what are we waiting for? Let's get to work."
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About two grueling, hellish, incredibly painful hours later, the class is finally, blessedly over, and every muscle on Lydia's body is sore, every inch of her is in pain to the point where it hurts to move, and she's feeling queasy and dehydrated and so exhausted she could pass out on the floor right where she stands.
She hobbles her way out of the weight room and waits impatiently for Allison, who's still chatting amicably with Scott and continuing to get along incredibly well with him. Lydia can't help the stab of jealousy at the fact that Allison seems to be well on her way to getting Scott's number, and the fact that she also barely looks tired at all—she looks radiant and full of energy as she talks to Scott, and while Lydia is sure she must look like a pile of sweaty trash right now, Allison just seems to glisten, as if she's barely even broken a sweat.
Her thoughts are side-tracked when she notices Cora approaching her, and she's not quite sure if the sudden spike of queasiness in her stomach is because it looks like she's about to be talking to Cora one-on-one or because she might actually throw up from all of the physical exhaustion she's put herself through. (She really hopes it's not the latter, that she's just experiencing butterflies in her stomach and that she's not about to up-chuck all over Cora's expensive running shoes.)
"Look—Lydia, is it?" Cora asks, and Lydia is momentarily taken aback at how soft her voice sounds—at least, softer by far than she's heard it be all morning, softer than she ever imagined it could be.
And it's not just her voice—her features are softer too and her eyebrows are knitted together in concern, the harsh set of her mouth off-put by the small, worried frown tugging at the corner of her lips.
"Yeah," Lydia gasps out, still working to catch her breath and to stop the room from spinning, nursing a nasty stitch in her side and forcing herself to keep her breakfast down.
"I saw you out there—you were working really hard, I'll give you that. I'd like to apologize that I ever doubted that you would; to be perfectly honest I thought you were going to give up after the first ten minutes. But the fact still stands that you are incredibly far behind the rest of the class— these are all people who have been working at this for a while now, and you've only really just started. I won't lie to you—this is not meant to be a class for beginners.
But...I admire your dedication, and that's why I'm going to offer to train you separately. I do personal training on the side anyway, and that way I could start you off at the right level instead of something that's too advanced for you—and you wouldn't have to pay me again, of course, since you've already paid for the class, but you'd just be doing something else instead. So, what do you say?"
By the time Cora is done talking, Lydia has finally regained her ability to say more than two words without wheezing, and her heart is suddenly doing somersaults in her chest.
This is perfect, she thinks to herself, completely elated at the offer. Cora as her personal trainer— what better way to have an excuse to spend time with her, to really get to know her?
"Well, thanks. I'd love that, really. Would I just meet you here at the gym during one of your breaks between classes?"
"You could, but it would probably be easier if I just came to you—I train a lot of people in their homes; it's much easier to plan around. I could come after I get off work here like I do with my other clients. Just tell me a time that works for you."
This just keeps getting better and better, and Lydia can't believe her luck—Cora Hale, personally training her, full-out one-on-one sessions, in her own home.
It's literally a golden opportunity.
They work out the details and Cora explains that the hours are flexible and not always set in stone and then, miracle of miracles, she gives Lydia her phone number.
Sure, it's just a precautionary method just so that Lydia can contact her if she needs to reschedule the time or anything or if something comes up, she can't help feeling like a giddy school girl after getting digits from a crush.
"Alright, well, see you then," Cora says, giving Lydia a little wave and heading back into the weight room, Lydia staring intently at the muscles working in her legs as she walks away and sighing happily.
She's proud of herself— it's not until Cora is completely out of eyesight that she finally turns to the nearest trashcan, nearly collapsing headfirst into it in exhaustion, and promptly throws up.