I trudge my heavy feet down the hall and into the kitchen, blearily pulling open the fridge and grabbing my unblended kale smoothie from inside. All the ingredients are already in the Nutri-bullet I just have to shove it on the base and mix it up.

Somehow, I manage to get the thing going and I close my eyes as it whirls noisily. Who gets up this early? I’ve never understood people who willingly wake up at the ass crack of dawn to start their day. It seems masochistic.

I mean, it’s six o’clock in the morning, so not exactly the ass crack since the sun is fully up and I can hear people outside, but close enough. I slam my palm on the buttons until it stops making noise and pull the cup off, flipping it over I take off the part with the blades attached to it and sniff the green, foamy drink suspiciously.

You know what else is masochistic? Kale.

Ugh.

I hate how it feels like every single calorie I consume is being counted...against me. As if everything I eat will be judged and that my self-worth is supposed to be attached to my meals, or lack of them. I know that Hollywood can be toxic for women like me, ones who have broad hips and big breasts. Girls who have a big booty that jiggles when we walk. If I felt like there was anything I wanted more than this I’d say screw this diet and forget the whole thing. But I’ve wanted to be an actress, since my mother and I watched the old Elvis Presley movies together on TV. My mother used to get lost in pretending she was the leading ladies in his films because she loved young Elvis. She would sigh and stare at the television like a schoolgirl with her first crush. I used to sit on the sofa beside her with the same look fixed on my face, but not because I had a thing for the King. I pictured myself as the same leading ladies because I imagined myself in their shoes, on set, performing for the audience and temporarily losing myself in a role. It all seemed so magical.

I manage to take a sip and convince my throat to swallow it down with some coaxing. I stare out the window blankly and do a double take as I spot Gabe and Axle out in the yard playing Frisbee. He’s certainly not struggling to wake up as he, shirtlessly, tosses a Frisbee to his dog across the lawn and Axle catches it mid-air. Holy crap.

I mean, it’s impressive that a three-legged dog can so gracefully pluck the Frisbee out of the air like that, but that’s not what has my attention. The glistening sweat trickling down over Gabe’s tattoos and tantalizingly traveling down his eight-pack abs has suddenly given me a jolt that no kale smoothie or coffee in the world could.

Holy crap.

Suddenly awake, I take a long sip of my disgusting drink and don’t even flinch this time as it wreaks havoc on my taste buds, not when I have a distraction like him in my backyard. I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped blinking, just soaking him in as he drops to the ground and quickly does an impressive amount, of push-ups in about thirty seconds. He stands back up just as Axle approaches him and pulls the red disc from his dog’s mouth, tossing it back in the air. As the dog races across the grass to catch it, Gabe drops to the ground and does a bunch of burpees.

Wow, now that’s a workout. Trying to beat his lightning quick German Shepherd before he returns with the Frisbee with his own exercises, looks exhausting. I have to fan my face with my hand just from watching.

You know, a girl could get used to this whole early bird gets the worm thing if this was her motivation. I smile as I spy on their exercise, lingering by the window in my nightie as I chug back the rest of my green morning blend like a frat boy doing a keg stand. I know I’ve got to get ready for my own cardio session. My personal trainer is probably on the way to my house right now, but convincing my feet to move from this spot, or my eyes to move from that hard body isn’t an easy sell. I peer over at the clock on my wall and groan. It’s already quarter after six and my trainer is going to be here at six-thirty. I need to get myself together. At least today it’s a fun workout and not the brutal kettlebell circuit I did last week. I’d never even heard of kettlebells before, and if I never swung those strange cannonballs with handles attached to them again, I’d die happy.

Taking one last lazy minute to enjoy my unexpected morning view, I sigh and tear myself away from the window. Time to do this. At least now I’ve got the energy to face the day and the gruelling schedule ahead of me. It’s amazing how Gabe can send a little jolt through me and get me going. It makes my mind wander to other naughty ways he could give me a jolt and get me going. Damn, I’m going to need a cold shower and I haven’t even worked out yet!