Training

Freddie put down the weights and wiped the sweat from his brow. He had just finished his weekly gym session and was thoroughly exhausted. He grabbed his bag and headed to the locker rooms to shower.

"Hey, you," a voice called behind him. He turned around to see a trainer that worked at the gym.

"Er, hello," Freddie said.

"You've been coming here for about six months now, right?" the trained asked.

"That's about right," Freddie nodded. "Why?"

"Because I've been keeping an eye on you," the trainer replied. "When you first came in here you were so scrawny that me and some others trainers made a bet on how long you would last. But, jeeze man, now you've got some guns of steel!"

"Oh, well thanks," Freddie said, grinning at the compliment.

"So what's your story? Training for a sport? A fight?"

"Um, not exactly," Freddie said slowly, looking at the ground.

"Well then what? Someone doesn't work as hard as you have for no reason…I know! It was for a girl! Ah-ha, it is! You're turning red."

"I guess you could say it's about a girl," Freddie admitted. "Well, I've got to go-"

"Trying to impress her with your muscles," the trainer said, continuing to follow Freddie. "Girls love big muscles. I'll bet she can't keep her hands off you. Probably wrapping her arms all over yours and-"

"I just wanted to beat her at arm wrestling!" Freddie exclaimed finally.

The trainer blinked. "You got beat by a chick in arm wrestling?"

"Hey, she's strong," Freddie defended.

"Well…have you at least beaten her yet?"

"…No."

"Well, look at the time," the trainer said, looking at his bare wrist. "I'm late for…gym stuff."

Freddie rolled his eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed. But he was determined. He was tired having his girlfriend, Sam, beat him at arm wrestling every time. One of these days, he was going to win…Well, probably not, but maybe he'd eventually be able to last a full five seconds against her…someday.