A/N: Why don't people write Edge stories? If they spent less time writing about Batista raping Cena, they'd realize Edge needs love, too. Guess I'm the one of the few that has taste on this site.

The day I met Adam Copeland had been, possibly, one of the worst days of my life. There were so many different things going wrong all at once, and to top it all off, he was dropped into my lap like a lost puppy. I didn't know what to do with him, so I did the first thing that came to mind.

I fell in love with him.

It wasn't an accident, but I didn't really do it on purpose, either. He was just... there, and I needed him to be... just there, and that second of pure security was what made the lock on my heart open up and let him in my life.

I was stupid to do it. I had never expected it to take me where I am today.

I had been spotting someone who was trying to bench press three-hundred pounds, and I was already sweating from my own work-out. The gym I worked at seemed to be over-run with people that day, probably because it was raining. I did that, too. I was there that day because I had to be, but when I had off, if the rain was coming down, I would come into the gym and work-out until the sun shined.

You can imagine how in shape I got during hurricane season.

"Come on, you're only at fifteen reps," I said flatly, looking around the crowded room. The humidity had probably shot up about fifteen percent with the amount of people. It was almost shoulder-to-shoulder at every machine or station.

I glanced back down at the guy, who shot his eyes back up at the ceiling. He must've been checking me out when I wasn't looking.

"Twenty," I said, bored. I took a quick gulp of the water bottle I had, watching the couple across from us add about fifty extra pounds onto the set they were doing. Someone was going to tear a muscle, and I would laugh, because I knew those scrawny bitches wouldn't be able to lift anything lighter than fifteen.

"So, how much do you bench?" the guy spewed, his breath harsh and quick. His face was covered in sweat, and his shirt was practically transparent. I probably didn't look like a beauty queen myself, but this dude was dripping like a leaky faucet.

I didn't even look at him as I said, "Two-twenty-five."

I heard him choke and drop the weight, right on his chest. I flung away my water bottle and hauled the bar off of him like a baby, putting it back on the rack. What a dumbass. I knew he couldn't handle it, but I didn't say anything.

"You okay?" I asked, getting on my knees. "Your chest hurt?"

He shook his head and sat up, bent over. He let out a few shaky breaths, his chest heaving. "You bench two-twenty-five?" he asked incredulously.

I shrugged. "Yeah. What's the big deal?"

He was still breathing like a dog, his tongue practically falling out of his mouth. "But you're a chick."

"I'm surprised you didn't notice before - my chest seemed to be a dead giveaway for you."

He blushed and looked away, arms limp against his legs.

I sighed, bending to pick up my drink. "Are you done? I need to get going - I'm meeting a new client today."

His head shot back, a brow raised.

I rolled my eyes. "Not like that, you moron. Someone needed a personal trainer, they got me."

"Oh." The guy laughed, running a hand back over his sweaty hair. "Gotcha. Yeah, I'm done. Thanks for your time."

"No problem." I stepped around him, heading into the back where my boss's office was. I probably should've showered, but if the guy I was supposed to be working with wanted to get started today, there was no point.

I opened the door, meeting the cool air-conditioning of the room. It worked a lot better when there were only two people taking up space.

Ray, the owner of the center, smiled up from his desk, office phone pressed to his ear. I sat across from him, waiting for his call to end. Ray's dad actually owned the place, but he was away so much that he just made his son take over for him. It worked out, anyway, since I never really got along with Mr. Turchirelli.

"Sorry about that, Gia. It was your client, actually." He sat back and picked at his fingernails. "He couldn't find the place, the dumb bastard. That's Canadians for you."

I furrowed my brow. "Canadian? He's Canadian?"

"Yeah, lives around here, though. Almost never home."

"Why? He in the army?"

"No. Actually, get this." Ray sat up, leaning his elbows against his desk. "He's a wrestler."

I laughed. "A wrestler? Famous or jobber?"

"Famous. Works for the WWE."

"No shit!" I laughed again, leaning back in my chair. "Wow. My dad's gonna get a kick out of this."

"Yeah, I thought it was pretty funny." Ray grabbed the pencil off the stack of papers next to his arm, tapping the eraser against the desk. "Especially since this kid was like a tourist trying to get here. He had no idea where he was."

"And he lives around here? What a joke."

"Well, like I said, I guess he isn't home a lot." Ray smiled stupidly. "Mr. Wrestler's got a busy schedule."

"So... Why does he want a personal trainer if he's never home?"

"He took some time off. A couple of months, I guess. He said he needed some rest, but he didn't want to get out of shape." He pointed the pencil at me. "That's where you come in."

I rolled my eyes. "Yippee. A Canadian Musclehead - sounds delicious."

Ray leaned back and laughed, his eyes closed. He looked like he was high, and knowing him, he might've been. A knock at the door cut off his giggles. "Oh. I guess you'll find out if he is or not," he said, getting out of his chair. I stayed in mine as he walked around, opening the door. "Hi. Adam, right?"

"Yeah." I heard something thump against the door - probably his gym bag - and his shoes scuffed against the carpet. Ray closed the door. "Sorry I'm so late," he apologized, staying behind me.

"It's not a problem - this isn't a job for you." Ray came back around, sitting at his desk. He motioned to the chair next to me. "Have a seat."

"Oh. Thanks." The guy came around and stopped when he saw me, then sat down, pulling at his jeans. He had nice legs - he wore those pants well.

Ray pointed at me. "This is Eligia, your new trainer."

Adam opened his mouth a little, looking at me. He smiled. "Oh. Hi. Nice to meet you, I'm Adam."

I held up my hand at his offered one, shaking my head. "Sweaty as hell, brother. Maybe next time."

He brought his fingers into a fist, bumping it against his knee awkwardly. "Right. Good thinking."

"I usually do."

"Don't act cocky, Gia," Ray said sternly, grinning at Adam. "She's the best we got, so her ego's a bit bigger than necessary."

"I know the feeling." Adam pushed his hair back, scratching the back of his head. "So, uh, when can we start? Training, I mean."

Ray looked at me. "Ask Gia."

I glanced at Adam, noticing the way his hair stayed where he put it, even after he dropped his hand. "You have nice hair."

He seemed confused at first, but that great smile of his pulled at the side of his lips, denting the corners. "Thanks. I'm sure yours looks great when it's not wet."

"You'd be betting on a pretty weak hand, man." I wiped at the side of my neck, grimacing at the sweat on my palm. "Uh... Well, since I'm already sweating like a pig, we can start today. If you'd like that."

Adam's grin didn't fade. "Yes. I'd like that."

I saw Ray's eyes shifting between us, a sly smile building on his face. "Great," he said enthusiastically. "Gia, get him all set up. Adam, it's nice to have a celebrity on board."

Adam stood up, pulling his shirt down where it was riding up, over his belt buckle. "Pleasure's all mine." His eyes shifted to me, and they went down, then up again, his tongue pressing against his bottom teeth. "Show me around, Eligia?"

I looked at Ray, who was smiling goofily at me, then up at Adam. I hopped out of my seat. "All right, let's get going. Want me to start you off easy?"

Adam pursed his lips. "Does it look like I need to?"

I walked backwards toward the door, watching the way his eyes danced. "Maybe. You look a little out of shape."

He grinned, crossing his arms. "Well, that's what I have you for, right?"

"That's right." I opened the door and started out, but stopped, turning around. Adam was already behind me, and I bumped into him, looking up into his devilish eyes. "But make sure I don't have to pump your 'roids for you. Needles make me squeamish."

He laughed, his breath minty and fresh. "I think I'm gonna like working with you."

I dropped my eyes, a small comma forming at the corner of my mouth. "Looks like you already do."

Adam just smiled and stepped past me, heading toward the weights. My eyes were trained on his back, his nice back that I could see through his lightweight shirt, and I never realized that this was the guy I was going to fall in love with.

But, like I said before, it wasn't on purpose. Nothing with Adam ever was.

A/N: Well, that's the first chapter. I'm extremely excited about this story, and even if no one likes it, I'm going to keep writing it, because I want to. Loving Edge is better than reviews. Though they do keep me going, Edge reeking of awesomeness overpowers my senses. So review if you want, they're greatly appreciated. And they make me feel all fuzzy inside.