Feelin’ Cheeky

Hannah

I felt nervous with Saturday morning on the horizon. The prospect of the final weigh-in was a little scary.

On Friday, during class, I had to force myself not to get distracted by Jordan. I had two workouts left before I stepped on that scale, and I was making them count.

“Girl, if you hike that pant leg up one more time, you’re going to rip a hole in them,” Parker warned as he looked over at me.

We were running push intervals, and I was having a minor wardrobe malfunction. I was fine when we were walking, but as soon as I started running, my leggings tried to make a break for it.

“God, dammit,” I growled as the next interval was called out.

“Thirty seconds all out! Put the gas on! Let’s go!” Mallory yelled out over the speakers.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered as I pushed the speed up to six and tried to run, but the waistband kept slipping.

“Fifteen seconds left, push it up, and don’t quit now!”

My finger hit the speed increase button twice, and I started pumping my arms, chasing that finish line. Right as I got into a stride, I felt cool air hit my lower back.

I reached down with both hands, grabbed before they could slide any further down, and held on for dear life.

“Slow down, Han. Walking recovery,” Parker told me. That bastard was laughing next to me. But if I let go of my pants, I was gonna end up mooning the whole class.

He reached over and pushed the three and five buttons, slowing me down.

“Thanks,” I panted as he tried to control his laughter.

“Sixty seconds here and then we’ve got one more all out to finish up your treadmill workout,” Mallory called out.

Son of a bitch.

“Just walk it, Han. It’s not worth it,” Parker looked down to where I was holding up my ill-fitting pants.

“Shut it,” I growled, and I reached down, pulling up as much slack as I could get onto my thighs, hoping that it’d stay in place for the last interval.

My eyes caught Jordan’s in the mirror, and he had an amused yet concerned look on his face. Being right behind me, I was sure he’d gotten quite the show over the last ten minutes.

“All right, treadmills, your tanks aren’t empty yet. One more time,” Mallory yelled, “in three... two... one.”

I could do this. I could keep my pants on for thirty more seconds.

I pressed the button to increase my speed and broke into a decent run, pumping my arms, feeling the burn in my lungs, watching my heart rate monitor slowly climb into the orange zone.

“Ten seconds left! Now is the time to prove to yourself what you can do!”

“Don’t do it,” Parker warned as I pressed the speed button twice and kicked into my top speed.

“Five...”

“Four...”

The movement jostled the bunched fabric around my thighs, and I could feel the material slowly starting to slip down my skin.

“Three…”

I reached down with one hand to hold it in place and tried to maintain my speed—two more seconds.

“Two…”

The grip of my sweaty hand faltered, and I heard a tiny ripping sound.

Shit.

“One... slow it down into a walking recovery and wipe down your machines. Nice work!”

I pressed the stop button twice and reached for my cleaning wipe with my free hand, my heart beating an uneasy staccato in my chest.

“You okay, Han?” Parker asked, noticing that I still had a death grip on my pants.

“I ripped something,” I whispered quietly, leaning in his direction.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Not me... ~the pants~,” I said quietly through clenched teeth.

“Ooh, oh shit... really?” He looked over at me in alarm.

“Maybe it’s not that bad,” I whimpered hopefully.

“Turn around,” Parker urged as he rotated his finger. I turned away from him and heard quiet laughter. Shit. “Well, at least your underwear is the same color as your pants.”

“What?!” I exclaimed and then smacked my palm over my mouth.

“It’s fine. It’s just a little hole. You can only see a little bit of skin.” Parker shrugged, looking amused.

No, no, no. We still had thirty minutes left. I couldn’t finish with a hole in my pants.

“When you’re seated on the rower, you won’t be able to see it. It’s on one of the contour lines on the seat of your leggings.”

“Are you telling me I have a hole on the ass cheek of my leggings?” I squeaked.

“Finish wiping down, it’s time to move,” Mallory announced as she walked down the aisle behind us.

My eyes widened, and I let go of my pants, trying to pull my tank down to cover myself.

“If you do that, one of your tits is gonna pop out of the top. You’re much better off showing a little cheek rather than going full-on Janet Jackson,” Parker laughed.

“Oh my God, Park. This is not funny. Stop laughing.”

“It is kind of funny,” he snickered, and I smacked him on the side of his arm.

“You two okay?” Jordan stepped forward after wiping down his rower.

“We’re fine,” I panicked as I held my palm over the rip on my ass.

“Hannah is just feeling a little cheeky today,” Parker laughed, and I pushed my foot backward and kicked him in the shin.

“Ouch... hey!” he yelped.

“Are you sure?” Jordan asked again.

I nodded frantically, and he gave me a speculative look before turning to the weight floor. He glanced back a few times, looking concerned, but I plastered what must have been a manic smile on my face.

“Quit beating on me,” Parker whined. “You probably just bruised my shin.”

“Good. Quit laughing at me. My ass is hanging out.”

“Not completely,” he shrugged.

“You’re not helping,” I hissed.

“Just sit down and start rowing. I’ve got some extra shorts in my gym bag you can borrow when we move. Just run to the bathroom and change. Missing a few floor exercises won’t kill you.”

I looked over at the weight floor, and they were doing pop jacks.

~Well, shit. If my pants didn’t have a hole now, they sure would after all that jumping around.~

~

“Hannah. Sit.” Parker pointed down at my rower seat.

Trying to calm myself down, I strapped into the rower, feeling the seat stick slightly where the hole in my pants was. At least Parker was right; it was covered while I was sitting.

“You all right, Hannah? I saw you struggling a little bit toward the end of the tread block.” Mallory stopped in front of my rower with a genuine look of concern on her face.

“I’m okay, just having an off day.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked again, a small frown marring her features.

Oh my God…why did she have to be nice now?

“No... I’m good, but thank you,” I insisted with a small shake of my head.

“Okay, you can ask me if you ever need anything.”

“Thanks, Mal. I appreciate it,” I choked out as I tried to maintain my dwindling dignity. She couldn't help with what I needed. I was pretty sure both of her legs could still fit inside one of my pant legs.

“Rowers! Let’s get started on our thousand-meter row for distance!” she said cheerfully.

I take it back. She was trying to kill me.

“Just ten minutes, and you can go change,” Parker encouraged from his place beside me.

I nodded and got started on my row. My time wasn't the greatest, but I got into the natural rhythm of the push and pull of the machine. I could make it through this part and then go change.

“Okay. After you're done, I want you to get into a pulsing squat over your machines until I call time,” Mallory announced.

Nope... not gonna happen. There was a glass wall behind me. Anyone in the waiting room would get an eyeful of my backside if I aimed my booty in that direction.

Despite the fatigue and the burn in my thighs, I decided the safest course of action was just to keep rowing until she called time. My ass was staying seated.

“Hannah, this is supposed to be a thousand-meter row, not two,” she said quietly as she peered over at the screen on the front of my rower.

“I know,” I panted as I kept moving. “I just felt like getting in some extra meters.”

Parker started quietly snickering from his squat position, and I shot him a death glare.

“All right, girl, go for it. I like the enthusiasm,” she responded, giving me an approving nod.

When she called time, I stood up and covered the hole in my pants with my hand.

Not wanting to pass everyone switching stations, I slipped out the main studio door and into the lobby, awkwardly shuffling backward through the door.

“Everything okay, Hannah?” Ty looked up from the desk, smiling at me.

“I’m good,” I insisted, my voice higher than usual. “Just need to go to the bathroom real quick.”

He nodded and looked back down, paying no further attention to my awkward shuffling down the hallway toward the lockers.

I pulled open Parker’s locker with one hand and grabbed his bag, putting it behind me as I shuffled to the bathroom.

Once locked inside a stall, I unzipped his bag and cursed his tiny gay ass.

“Are you kidding me with this?”

Parker had a pair of shorts in there, all right. A pair of compression shorts with a four-inch inseam. If that.

Knowing I had no other option, I tugged off my destroyed leggings, seeing a full two-inch long hole in the contour seam on the seat of them. Yeah, the mirrors on the weight floor would have showcased that nicely.

I tried to shimmy my way into the tiny shorts, but even with all the weight I’d lost… they were snug. Was a hole in my ass really better than looking like a popped can of biscuits?

Tears sprang to the corners of my eyes as I tried to pull them down into a position where they didn’t pinch my thighs. Screw the weight floor; I was just hiding in here for the rest of the class.

“Hannah?” Jordan’s voice carried through the empty locker room. I hastily wiped my cheeks as I heard the door close and then a metal click. “Are you okay, baby?”

His large feet appeared in front of the stall that I was inside, and my mortification increased.

“I’m fine. Just... just go back to class.”

“Are you crying?” he asked, his concern evident.

Dammit.

“No. I just sneezed, I’m fine. Please go.”

“Hannah, open the door,” he coaxed as I saw a large hand rest on the top of the door.

More tears came and I sniffled quietly.

“I’ll go get the stall keys from the office if you don’t come out,” he warned.

“Fine. Just give me a minute.”

He sighed; I picked up my torn leggings and Parker’s bag, unlocking the door. Jordan stood there, gripping the top of the door, a concerned look stretched across his handsome features.

“Why are you in here crying? Did something happen? I saw Mal talking to you and then…”

“No!” I insisted as I shook my head. As much as I didn’t care for her, Mallory had actually tried to be kind. “No. She was fine. It’s me. She had nothing to do with it.”

“What happened?”

Oh my God, this was embarrassing.

“I…”

“Just take a deep breath and tell me,” he urged softly. “Here, come sit down.”

He held out his hand, and I followed him out to the bench next to a mirror. We sat down, and I winced as the hem of the evil, tiny shorts cut into my skin.

“Where are your pants?”

I held up my fist, and the look he gave me would have made me laugh if today wasn’t such a clusterfuck.

“I grabbed a pair of older leggings earlier because I still hadn’t put away my laundry…” I tried to explain.

“What happened to them?”

Pulling open the material, I stretched them out, showing him the rip.

“Did the seam stitching give out?” he asked curiously.

“Not by itself,” I mumbled, my face flaming in embarrassment. “They were too big, so I kept having to pull them up.”

“I wondered why you kept pulling on them.”

“On the last all-out, I tried to bunch them up to keep them in place, but they started slipping, and I pulled too hard and ripped them,” I confessed, tears welling up.

“Is that why Parker said you were feeling cheeky?”

“Yes,” I growled. “That asshole.”

He laughed, and I let out a chuckle, my anxiety easing a little bit.

“I can go grab you some shorts. I’m assuming those are Parker’s?”

“Yeah, he said I could borrow his shorts, but I thought they’d be normal shorts, but they’re too tight, and I’m not going back out there looking like…”

“Hannah, breathe.” He cupped my cheeks and forced me to look at him. “You’ll be fine.”

At my nod, he leaned in and kissed me gently, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled back.

“I’ll be right back.”

He left me sitting there while he slipped out the door. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself down while I waited. By the time he returned, I was calmer, and my heart fluttered when he came to my rescue.

“Try these.” He handed me a pair of shorts, and I stood, awkwardly pulling at Parker’s version of hot pants.

When I slipped into the stall, I awkwardly tugged the too-small pair off and then unfolded the pair that Jordan had given me.

They had a little gym logo on the bottom hem, and the tags were still attached. I opened up the waistband and felt myself deflate.

The size tag said large.

“These aren’t going to fit,” I said, disappointedly.

“Did you try them on?” he asked through the closed door.

“No, but I usually need an extra-large.” Or larger.

“Just try them, Hannah.”

He had to have heard my heavy sigh, but I didn’t care. I was now going to have to wrestle myself into another pair of too-tight shorts.

As I eased them up to my thighs, expecting to get resistance, I found myself surprised when they slipped up just fine.

“And?” Jordan inquired from the other side of the metal door separating us.

The waistband was a tiny bit snug, but they hung nicely around my thighs, and they didn’t cut into my skin.

“They fit, don’t they?” He pushed open the door that I hadn’t locked and looked down at me. “I like those.”

“How?” I sputtered. “But what? Do they run larger than normal?”

He laughed as he stepped forward and cupped the back of my neck. “You don’t see it because it’s yourself, but you’ve changed more than you give yourself credit for.”

“I haven’t fit into large shorts in like ten years,” I whispered as I felt myself get a little emotional.

Knowing that you had made progress and having it physically demonstrated were two totally different things.

“Well, I might be biased, but they make your ass look super hot,” he whispered. I giggled, and he leaned forward, kissing me lightly and then releasing me.

He looked at his watch, and his eyes widened. “We’ve only got a few minutes left until the class is over. We better get out there. Wouldn’t want anyone to catch me in the ladies' room.”

“Shit.” I sighed as I nodded and grabbed my things.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked as he looked down at me in confusion.

“This was my last real workout before the weigh-in, and I spent a third of it in here feeling sorry for myself.”

“Want me to stay late and help you sweat it out?” he offered. My face flamed, and I coughed as I thought about what happened the last time we were left alone in the studio.

“I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

He opened the door, and I followed him into the hallway.

“Well, that’s disappointing to hear. I kinda like it when you don’t,” I replied.

The wolfish grin he gave me over his shoulder made my skin tingle.

This man was something else.