Work out continues

Reina bumped her shoulder into his lightly. “Anyway, you’ve made amazing progress already. One more set, then we hit the spa for your treat.”

He slowed down slightly, side-eying her. “I thought that was optional.”

“Oh, honey,” she smiled, “everything here is technically optional. But we both know you’ll love it once you give it a shot. You trust me don’t you?” she said leaning into one of the lines she knew was on the mousy girls tapes.

Jerry stepped off the treadmill, chest heaving. “I do, but… I don’t know, I just… spa stuff isn’t really my thing.”

Reina didn’t push. Not yet. She handed him a water bottle—another pink one, this time with his name stickered on the side.

Except it didn’t say Jerry.

It said Geraldine.

He groaned. “You really have to stop calling me that.”

“But it’s such a pretty name!” Reina beamed, walking beside him toward the mats. “Strong, Powerful, a name for a leader. Things you wanted right?”

He paused, uncertain how to respond. Spear Ruler. That meaning part had stuck with him. Spear Ruler, he could imagine himself on an ancient battlefield using a spear to take down his imaginary foes like those in the movie three hundred. No way was he going to look like them, not without consistently going to the gym and getting help from Reina.

Reina stopped and turned to him, voice softening. “Look, Geraldine—”

“It’s Jerry,” he muttered, already cringing at the lack of **** behind the correction.

“Jerri,” she relented for now, “you came here because you wanted to feel better about yourself. Stronger, right? Not physically with weights—that’s not your thing. But inside. Confidence, self-esteem, how people see you. Right?”

He nodded reluctantly.

Reina stepped closer. “So, let me help you. Trust me for a little longer. Give the spa a shot. You might be surprised how good it feels to take care of yourself.”

Jerry hesitated. His thoughts swirled—too many of them not quite his own. That voice from the music earlier, soft and steady, whispered again:

“You want to take better care of yourself. Body hair is for men, not someone as feminine as you, Geraldine.”

“You trust your personal trainer. They want to help you, be the real you.”

He looked into Reina’s eyes. She hadn’t steered him wrong yet. She smiled at him like he mattered.

“Do you want to be seen as a tomboy?” she asked suddenly.

“What?” His face scrunched. “No! Of course not.” Jerry said quickly, he was already wearing feminine clothing he didn’t want to be mistaken for a girl even one that would be called a tomboy.

“Then stop fighting me,” she said, brushing a stray lock of damp hair from his face. “Let me show you what confidence can feel like.”

He swallowed hard. “Fine. I’ll give it a chance. Just... don’t expect me to get used to being called Geraldine.”

Reina grinned. “Deal.”

She didn’t promise not to keep saying it. And he didn’t say he minded that much, either.