I peek over at Summer again. She’s seated on the ground with her back pressed against a bench and a long barbell resting across her waist. When my gaze traces down to the end of it, my eyes bulge. The number of plates she has stacked there seems, well, almost impossible for a woman her size. But then her hips thrust up, and she lifts the bar with the strength of her . . . I don’t even know. Her ass? The way it’s clenching, the way her lips part on a heavy breath. It’s all just confirmation that I’m a fucking pervert. Just perverted enough to ditch my bike and wander over for a closer look. I
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