I feel tired and heavy in the afternoon, but make it through the workday before collapsing on the couch at home. My muscles feel so sore after the workout so I guess that’s why I’m tired.
I maintain plant-based eating all the next day, but in the afternoon I’m losing energy fast with every hour that passes. I can barely hold my head up as I’m walking along my street on the way home. There’s a buzzing in my ears and black spots swarming in front of my eyes. I don’t know what’s happening to me. Maybe I’m allergic to avocadoes.
“Livia?”
Strong hands grip my arms. A familiar masculine scent fills my nose. I stare at the ground and the large feet in trainers that have appeared. Trey? Trey’s got really big feet.
“Livia, are you okay? You’re pale.”
“Just really…tired.”
His hands squeeze me comfortingly and he moves me a little to one side until my shoulder touches something solid. “Wait here a second, okay? I’ll be right back and then I’ll help you get home.”
“Sure,” I say, leaning against the wall, grateful that I don’t have to move just yet.
Trey comes back a few minutes later with a paper carry bag, and wraps his free arm around my waist to help me back onto my feet. “Come on. Take your time. Don’t push yourself or you’ll faint.”
I will? I feel weirdly hot and cold at the same time, so maybe he’s right. We walk slowly down the street, Trey murmuring encouraging words the entire time while the world spins around me. I manage to gesture toward my building and he digs the keys out of my purse. Finally, we’re inside my apartment and the buzzing in my ears has turned into a roar.
I collapse on the sofa with my head in my hands. “What’s happening me?”
“Have you not been eating?”
“No, I’ve been eating vegan food, like we talked about.”
“I think it’s your blood sugar dropping. Here.” He passes me a paper coffee cup. “Almond milk mocha. Sip it till you feel better.”
I take a mouthful of the sweet drink and the world steadies a little around me. After a few more sips, the sugar and caffeine work their way into my system and I’m able to sit up and look around. Trey is sitting next to me on the sofa, devouring a scone in big bites. I didn’t think a fitness freak would be into pastries.
“That looks good,” I say enviously, suddenly dying for a scone of my own.
“It’s heaven.” Trey passes me a paper bag. “Cranberry and orange. Got one for you, too.”
“You’re my hero,” I gasp. I take out the scone and bite into it, and moan with pleasure. Trey’s drinking a mocha, too. “I didn’t imagine I’d see you eating like this.”
He raises an eyebrow and swipes some crumbs from his lower lip. The gesture is so sensual that I feel like it’s my lip he’s touching. Maybe it’s not just a scone I’m hungry for.
“You didn’t? Why’s that?”
“You’re a personal trainer with strict plans.”
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “I like to eat scones sometimes.”
It is a big deal, though. I thought people threw themselves into a “healthy” lifestyle in an all-or-nothing way.
“I actually allow myself three desserts or pastries a week, and I can have them whenever I like. One night of beer, too.”
I sink back on the sofa and get comfortable as I finish my scone. “You plan for treats?”
“Got to have nice things to look forward to.” He scrunches our empty paper bags and put them aside. “If you’re feeling better, would you like to share with me what you’ve eaten the past two days?”
Am I imagining it, or does he seem stern all of a sudden? I finish the last bite of my scone and wash it down with a mouthful of mocha, enjoying his severe gaze. I feel cared for rather than bullied. It’s kind of lovely.
After detailing the meals I’ve had, he looks seriously displeased. “Livia, we talked about you making these changes gradually. Your body is used to certain foods and it’s not healthy to shock it with a complete change of diet.”
I stare down at the coffee cup I’m holding in my lap. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I was just trying to avoid meat and dairy.”
Trey’s still frowning, but then his brow smooths. “I should have been clearer. I’m sorry. Let’s set up a proper plan for you tomorrow during our next session.”
I gaze at him, amazed to hear that word on his lips: Sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a man say that before. “You’re kind of sweet for a dom.”
I keep thinking about him that way. As a dom. If he’s a real dom, then I didn’t know that ones like him existed.
The corner of Trey’s mouth lifts. “Yeah, I can be. I’m still strict, though.”