The next morning, Dick left the house early for the first day of his new job. Iron Core Gym wasn't far, but the walk gave him time to settle into the day.
The gym was quiet when he arrived—only a few early risers hitting the machines before work. Karen was already there, going over some paperwork at the front desk. She glanced up when Dick walked in, nodding in his direction without much fanfare.
"Right on time," she said, her tone business-like as always. "We've got a few clients coming in later, but for now, I'll show you the ropes."
Dick followed her through the gym, listening as she laid out the responsibilities: making sure equipment was organized, assisting with warm-ups, spotting clients when needed, and keeping the place running smoothly. It wasn't glamorous, but it wasn't mindless either. He could already tell Karen ran a tight ship.
"Everything clear?" she asked, her sharp gaze flicking to him after they finished the tour.
"Yeah, all good," Dick replied, his voice steady.
"Good. Let's get started then," she said, heading back to the desk.
The first couple of hours passed in a blur of organizing weights, helping a few gym-rats, and making sure everything was in place for the day's sessions. Karen kept her distance, watching but not micromanaging, which was fine by him. He wasn't looking for constant supervision—he wanted the space to learn, to feel out the environment.
Around mid-morning, the regulars started to trickle in. Most of them were serious lifters, the kind who knew their way around a gym and didn't need much help. Dick kept an eye out, though, always ready to step in if someone looked like they were pushing too hard or if their form was slipping.
"Spot me?" a gruff voice called from one of the benches.
Dick turned to see one of the regulars, a bulky guy in his late thirties, setting up for a bench press. He was stacked, muscles bulging out of his tank top, but his eyes had that faint glint of someone who knew their limits. Dick nodded, stepping up to the bench.
"How many reps you going for?" Dick asked, positioning himself behind the bar.
"Eight, maybe ten," the guy grunted, gripping the bar tight.
"Got it."
The guy pushed through the reps, his face reddening with the effort. On the seventh rep, his arms started to shake, and Dick leaned in, ready to catch the bar if needed. The guy powered through to ten, but his form was slipping. Dick didn't say anything, just spotted him as he racked the bar with a heavy clang.
"Thanks, man," the guy said, sitting up and wiping sweat from his forehead.
"No problem," Dick replied, stepping back as the guy took a long swig from his water bottle.
As the day went on, more clients filtered in, and Dick settled into the rhythm of the gym. It was a quiet morning. Until a sharp, feminine voice cut through the air, dragging his attention away from the rows of dumbbells.
"A new guy?"
Turning, Dick saw her—a girl standing near the entrance, her posture screaming entitlement. She had bleach-blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, oversized sunglasses perched on her head like a tiara. Her workout gear was clearly designer, tight and trendy, hugging her slim figure. There was an edge to her, a kind of cold confidence that instantly set her apart from the other clients. She wasn't here to blend in.
Her gaze swept over him, assessing, and he could practically feel her judgment before she even opened her mouth again. "You the one they hired? Cute." Her tone was filled with sarcasm, the word "cute" dripping with condescension.
Dick didn't flinch, his expression remaining calm as he crossed his arms. "Yeah, I'm the new guy," he said simply.
She smirked, stepping closer, clearly enjoying the little power play. "I'm Paige," she said, offering her name without much warmth, like it was a favor. "So, you're gonna be spotting me today or what?"
Paige's eyes flickered over him again, sizing him up. Her gaze lingered on his biceps, the way they stretched the sleeves of his shirt now that he wasn't hiding under baggy clothes. Perfect Form had done more than just trim the fat; it had reshaped him, turning what used to be soft into hard muscle.
"Depends," Dick said, letting his arms drop to his sides, his tone casual but firm. "You think you can keep up?"
Her smirk widened, her eyes narrowing slightly, almost as if she was amused by his confidence. "Oh, I think you'll be the one trying to keep up, newbie."
Without waiting for a reply, she sauntered over to one of the squat racks, her ponytail swinging behind her. Dick followed without rushing.
She loaded the bar with plates, moving with the ease of someone who knew her way around a gym. But there was a cockiness in the way she set up—too fast, too eager to show off.
"Think you can spot this?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him as she gripped the bar, lowering herself under it.
Dick stepped into position behind her, keeping his hands at the ready but not touching the bar yet. He activated his newest skill, Analytical Thinking, and let his eyes scan Paige's form as she prepared for the squat. His mind dissected the information at lightning speed—weight distribution, posture, tension in her muscles. There was something off.
"This is a bit heavy for you today," he said, his voice calm but precise.
Paige froze mid-lift, her eyes narrowing as she glared back at him. "What do you mean today?" Her tone was sharp, defensive, clearly not expecting to be called out.
Dick met her gaze, unfazed. "This is your normal comfortable weight. You can handle it on a good day," he said, his voice steady. "But last night, you didn't sleep well, did you? You tried to cover it up with makeup, but I can see the signs under your eyes. Subtle, but they're there."
Paige's grip on the bar tightened, her expression shifting from irritation to mild surprise. "And?"
"And today's your special day," Dick continued, his tone not changing. "Your body's fighting harder than usual, whether you want to admit it or not. That's going to affect your balance and strength, even if you usually manage to push through. On top of that—"
Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't interrupt.
"—your hips are tight. I can see it in your form. It's throwing off your alignment, and that's going to strain your lower back if you go for too many reps."
She stared at him, silent for a moment, her earlier smugness replaced by something more calculating. She didn't deny it. In fact, there was a flicker of recognition in her eyes—like she hadn't expected him to notice, or maybe didn't think anyone could.
"So, what? You think I should just call it a day?" Paige asked, her voice less biting now, more curious.
"No," Dick replied, stepping closer but still maintaining his distance, letting her lead. "You can still lift. But reduce the weight. Focus on form, avoid pushing your body past what it can handle today. You've got enough experience to know when to hold back."
Paige smirked, a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You really think you know my body that well after just watching me for five minutes?"
Dick shrugged, meeting her eyes without backing down. "I know bodies. Yours isn't that special." He let the comment hang in the air, watching as her smirk faltered, her eyes flashing with both irritation and amusement.
She shook her head slightly, finally stepping away from the bar. "Fine," she muttered, but there was no real bite in her voice this time. "We'll do it your way. For now."
She stripped a couple of plates off the bar, reducing the weight as he'd suggested. As she set herself back up for the squat, Dick stayed behind her, spotting quietly. She moved through the reps, her form tighter, more controlled this time. He could see the shift in her posture, the way her body responded to the adjustments, even if she was too proud to admit it.
After she finished, Paige racked the bar with a soft grunt, rolling her shoulders and turning to face him. "Not bad," she said, grabbing her towel and wiping the sweat from her forehead. "For a new guy, you're not totally useless. I want you as my personal trainer."
Dick shrugged, his expression indifferent. "Sure, if our schedules meet."
Paige scoffed, narrowing her eyes in that way entitled people do when they don't get the instant obedience they're used to. "I said I want you. Karen or anyone else won't stop me. You can adjust yourself accordingly."
Dick chuckled, the sound low and dismissive. "I don't know how it usually goes for you, Princess," he said, locking eyes with her, "but I don't jump just because someone snaps their fingers."
Paige's smirk faltered, just for a second, but she recovered quickly. Her lips curled into a tight smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "Is that so? Well, maybe you're not as clever as you think you are." She leaned in a little closer, lowering her voice. "I always get what I want. Always."
He met her gaze, unflinching. "You can want all you like. Doesn't mean you'll get it."
Paige stared at him, the tension between them thickening. She wasn't used to this—someone pushing back, someone not immediately caving to her demands. For a second, it seemed like she might push harder, see if she could break through his calm. But then, with a small huff, she stepped back, her eyes narrowing again as if reassessing him.
"You're an asshole," she muttered, but there was no real venom in it. It sounded more like frustration.
Dick shrugged again, letting the insult roll off him. "I hear that a lot."
Paige scoffed, tossing her towel over her shoulder as she pulled out her phone. "Whatever. See if you can fit into this." She held up her screen, showing her schedule. Dick glanced at it—her training routine was impressively disciplined. She worked out from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m., five days a week, with Wednesdays and Sundays off.
Dick nodded, handing her phone back. "I'm starting college next Monday. Once I get my timetable, we'll work something out, but it looks like we can make this happen."
Paige eyed him for a moment, as if weighing whether she'd let him dictate even a sliver of control. "Fine. Just don't make me wait too long," she said, her voice dripping with impatience. With that, she turned and walked toward one of the benches.
"Coming?" she called over her shoulder.
Dick shook his head slightly. "Let's speak with Karen first. It's my first day, and we need to make the personal training official."
Paige paused, glancing back with a raised eyebrow. "You really play by the rules, huh?" Her tone carried a hint of mockery, but Dick could see the curiosity behind it.
"Only when it benefits me," he replied with a shrug, keeping his voice even. He wasn't about to let her attitude derail his first day.
Without another word, Paige followed him to the front desk where Karen was finishing up with a client. She gave them a quick glance, her sharp eyes zeroing in on Paige.
"Problem?" Karen asked, her tone brisk, already sensing the tension.
"No problem," Dick said smoothly. "Paige here wants to set up personal training sessions."
Karen's gaze shifted between the two of them, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You sure you're ready to take on clients this fast?" she asked. "It's only your first day."
"I am," Dick replied confidently. "She wants to start as soon as possible."
Karen's lips pressed into a thin line as she considered this. Then she gave a small nod, pulling out a clipboard from behind the counter. "Fine. Paige, you'll need to sign up officially for the personal training package. Sessions are one hour each, and you can book them directly with Dick once his schedule's finalized."
Paige rolled her eyes but signed the paperwork without complaint. "I want him exclusively," she said.
Dick frowned, unsure what that meant, while Karen's reaction was more telling—a flicker of surprise, quickly masked by professionalism. Paige was spoiled, no doubt. Entitled, yes. But she wasn't the type to do things for show. Her workout regimen was disciplined, serious. She pushed herself, expecting results. Maybe she saw something in him, something she hadn't expected.
Karen cleared her throat, flipping through the paperwork. "Exclusivity isn't usually how it works. You'll need to fit into Dick's schedule, just like every other client."
Paige didn't miss a beat, her eyes narrowing with that familiar glint of privilege. "I'll pay whatever it takes. Just make sure he's not splitting his time with some half-assed newbies." She glanced at Dick, her expression challenging, daring him to protest.
Annoyed to be excluded from the conversation, Dick asked, "What does that mean?"
Paige flashed a sly smile. "It means I own you. No matter how many other clients want sessions, you prioritize mine. Obviously, it has to fit your schedule too—I'm not unreasonable."
Dick shot a glance at Karen, waiting for some kind of confirmation. She nodded. "It's a priority arrangement. If you agree to this, her sessions will always come first, as long as it works for both of you."
He shrugged, indifferent. "Fine."
"Good," Paige replied, her voice smooth, satisfied. "Now, let's go."