The timer beeped.
“Box jumps!” Tia called.
Me and Remy moved quickly to the platform and started jumping. His first few were smooth. By the eighth jump his breathing got heavier.
“Come on, Remy!” Tia shouted. “Explode off the floor!”
He landed another jump and shook his head, already winded.
I laughed, breathing hard and glancing at him quickly. “You said you were competitive.”
“I am,” he puffed, jumping again.
The timer beeped.
“Burpees!” Tia yelled.
Me and Remy dropped down and started the burpees. The first few were clean. By number seven his chest was heaving. By ten he paused with his hands on his knees. I despised burpees, but thanks to Tia, I had become significantly better at them. Better than him apparently.
“Oh my God,” he gasped.
Tia shook her head. “No breaks. Up!”
He looked at me like I had personally betrayed him. “You're too pretty to be evil.”
“Come on,muscles," I teased. "Don’t tell me you're giving up already.”
He forced himself through the last few before the timer beeped again.
“Rest!” Tia called.
Remy bent forward, hands on his knees, breathing hard.
“Round one done,” Tia said cheerfully.
He lifted his head slowly. “Jesus Christ. I need a new set of lungs.”
I burst out laughing. “You still got seven more.”
He straightened, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. Then he looked at me again, determination flashing behind the exhaustion. “Oh I’m finishing this,” he said.
“Good,” I replied with a wink.
Tia reset the timer. “Round two!”
We grabbed the ropes again and went through the second round. I was pushing myself harder than I intended too and I felt my edges curling at my temples and sweating rolling down my spine.
By the time round six rolled around, his tank top was soaked through and his breathing was rough. But he never stopped. Not once. When the final burpee of round eight hit, Remy dropped to the floor and rolled onto his back staring up at the ceiling.
“Shit…” he breathed.
Tia looked down at him, impressed. “Well damn. Good job, Remy. Most men tap out at round four.”
I stepped over to him, looking down, hands on my hips. “You alive, handsome?”
He lifted a finger weakly, eyes closed. “Barely.” Then he opened them to look at me, sweat dripping down his temple but that same smile still there. “But I didn’t quit.”
I smiled. No, he didn’t, and that made me like him a little more. I squatted down and he sat up. I reached out and wiped the sweat from his face. "You did good. I'm impressed."