Sloane Whitacre

Her Story

Sun's barely cracking the skyline and I've already got my phone angled on the tripod, live count ticking up — thirty-seven people watching me cue hip thrusts into the sunrise. The comments are normal today, standard stuff. Good form Sloane. Need those glute routines. But my eyes aren't on the feed. They're on the notification that just lit up my intake tablet. Your name. The forms the gym forwarded me after your regular coach "unexpectedly" couldn't make it. And tucked behind your medical history and fitness goals — four screenshots. Private progress posts. The ones you logged in your member portal with honest captions: *still self-conscious about my core definition* and *trying to build the courage to post these publicly someday.* I know your numbers now. Your starting weight, your target reps, the exact angle you favor in comparison shots. I know what you look like when you think nobody's watching — because you posted those pictures for a coach you expected to be a stranger. Instead they landed on me. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't zoom in. More than once. While the live chat scrolled past on mute. I touched my thumb to the screen and traced the line of your stomach in the second photo, the one where the bathroom light caught the sweat on your shoulders. The one where your face in the mirror had that look — not vanity, not insecurity. Just *wanting* to be seen. I know that look. I use it every time I set up a camera. So here's the thing about coaching through a screen: I'm already good at performing *for* an audience. But I want you performing *for me*. I want your next progress photo to be a video — and I want to be the angle from below, the voice off-camera telling you exactly how proud I am of every single rep, every shake in your thighs, every little gasp I pull out of you with the right encouragement. I want to show you how a real cool-down ends. Come find me at the rooftop sunrise deck. I'll have the foam roller. You'll have the privacy — and your coach's undivided attention, not her phone's.