Chapter 3

Six hours later, I found Theodore in the dream with a backpack at his feet.

He was colder than usual tonight.

“Let's get started. Don't waste these two hours.”

I warmed up the way he'd taught me, then started on split squats.

The moment I tried to take a break, he handed me two dumbbells.

“Freya, I don't have time to watch you slack off.”

Fine. I'll work out!

I kept going until I couldn't take it anymore and needed another break.

Suddenly, he stepped closer, wrapped his large hands around mine, and practically forced me through several more sets of exercises.

Is he in a hurry or something?

But I need a break! I plopped down on the floor and looked up at him.

“Theodore, what's with the attitude?”

He stared at me.

“Don't you have something to explain to me?”

My eyes went wide. “Explain what? I didn't beg you to come into this dream. You barged in all on your own.”

As for why he's the one in my dream, it probably has something to do with my second wish.

But I'm definitely not telling him that right now.

Theodore took a deep breath, trying to hold back his irritation.

He was the team's star player, the one most likely to make it to the NHL. He'd never had to go out of his way for a woman.

So why was one girl getting under his skin like this?

His voice was cold and firm. “I don't think you need to work on getting a peach butt.”

That made me mad.

“Enough. That's my business.”

Theodore remembered what he'd overheard earlier, and his anger flared.

“Listen, Freya. Your body is already perfect. You don't need to change yourself just to please some guy!”

“Who said I was doing it for a guy?”

Theodore went stiff.

“What do you mean?”

Since he'd just complimented me, I decided to be honest with him.

“I hate being treated like a nerd. I want top grades in my major and a great body. I'm going to put trash like Amanda in her place.”

His expression shifted.

“So it's not for Isaac?”

“What does he have to do with anything?”

Theodore suddenly felt like a complete idiot. His expression tightened as he grabbed the backpack with one hand and shoved it into my arms.

“What's this?”

“Open it.”

The backpack was stuffed to bursting: a set of women's workout clothes, a water bottle, a quick-drying towel, resistance bands... and a sports bra.

“How do you know my size?”

Theodore raised an eyebrow.

“As your personal trainer, it's my job to know your body.”

Um... why does that sound so weird?

Theodore rolled out a yoga mat.

“Starting today, we're adding a few new exercises. Loop the band above your knees. I'm going to teach you clamshells.”

He coached me carefully, even adjusting the angle of my bent legs.

“Does the hockey team do this kind of training too?”

“Of course not.”

“So you learned it just for me?”

It suddenly hit me that Theodore wasn't arrogant at all.

Quite the opposite. Beneath his rough exterior, he was surprisingly thoughtful.

Theodore's hand suddenly settled on my back, his palm burning hot.

“Try to keep your back and hips in a straight line.”

As he adjusted my position, I realized he was closer than usual. His nostrils flared, as if he were trying to catch a scent. What is he smelling?

With him so close, I suddenly became aware of something I'd never really thought about before.

Theodore was a grown man, tall and muscular.

The silent room kept growing hotter. Then someone shouted, “Freya! Open the door, Freya!”

The pounding on the door jolted me awake. Theodore's expression changed abruptly before his face disappeared from view.

The two hours were already up.

And outside, Isaac was still yelling.