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i walked into my room for a pair of socks at 9pm. bella sat upright in the bed reading by the light of a lamp on the nightstand. i was basement-bound to do my night's biking/spinning. she glanced at me in the dim light. i stood by my dresser shirtless and wearing only my bib-style biking shorts. she placed her open hand flat on the page of her book and asked:
BELLA
what are you wearing?
TROY
oh. these are my biking shorts. this kind is called a biking bib and they're kinda like overalls to help keep them up and in place.
BELLA
well ... i'm going to have nightmares from your biking shorts.
TROY
yeah, they do look a little funny before i get my shirt on. after i get a shirt on they look pretty normal.
BELLA
i gotta say it is definitely not eye-candy.
and i gotta say bella's dress-down of me standing there in nothing but a pair of bib-style biking shorts planted several flags into my gelatinous esteem as i found myself pushing a little harder than usual that night on the trainer. in fact, so good was the workout, i'm considering letting bella verbally abuse me before every aerobic endeavor. if she gets good enough at it, she could possibly become a new sort of fitness trainer that does nothing but berate her clients into action.
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