I'm so charming, there are always men who love me

Chapter 22

The fitness instructor off to the side was trying to convince Margaret to take his fitness class, not realizing that the Hollywood starlet was staring at someone else's big boobs.

Margo looked at the blonde sweetheart hitting the sandbags, his pecs were so over the top that it was suddenly a shame not to touch them...

Not to mention that he had an angular face and straight legs that were wrapped in pants, but the muscle tone was extremely attractive.

Margaret blinked and asked the gym instructor, "Who is he?"

"What?" The red-haired, muscular white male trainer was a little confused for a moment, and followed Margaret's line of sight before realizing who she was asking about.

"I think his name is Steven or Steven? Came over from New York not too long ago, doesn't like to talk to people, and didn't go through the professional program."

This health club pays about a hundred dollars an hour for a professional course, which isn't bad.

And this big-breasted sweetheart doesn't look like she's well off.

A little too austere even.

Margaret looked at his extremely impressive fighting skills and thought maybe she should get a personal fitness trainer too?

Inexplicably, Margot wasn't at all concerned about the character of this big-breasted sweetheart, who was a little too decent-looking, the kind of saintly father who fed you chicken soup and the American dream every day, but instead of revolting you, you were in awe.

Anyway, he just seemed all harmless and strong and humble.

More specifically, there was something beautiful about him that didn't belong to this time, like an antique.

It seemed extraordinarily sincere, not at all like the frivolous energy floating around this room.

To Margaret, the big-breasted sweetheart looked like a dusty laurel crown whose diamonds and jewels had grown dull, and which the people who had once cherished it had dismissed as useless rags.

Or so he thought.

He always looked around with a hint of doubt in his eyes, like he couldn't figure out what was in front of him, and he didn't feel like anyone understood him either.

Maybe Margaret understood a little, she was the real deal after all.

So - the personal trainer she's looking at has a bit of a psychological attribution problem?

How does it look like a vegetable who's been in a coma for years, regaining consciousness.

A vegetable? Don't be ridiculous, bedridden for years, how could he have a full body of lean muscles.

Margaret simply suspected that he was taking protein powder to build muscle.

Maybe that's true?

Whatever, she just wanted a fitness instructor anyway.

Steven Rogers stepped into the gym bathroom where privacy was good and turned on the shower.

As times have evolved, young Americans who go to the gym are more discriminating than ever before - not just about the trainers or the fitness equipment, but even the design of the gym is a key consideration.

First and foremost is the issue of privacy in the locker room, and young Americans nowadays are so private about their personal space that it's almost a little hard for Steven to figure out why.

In the days when he was born and raised, young people didn't give a damn about showering together in a public space.

Now, however, young people demand that the bathroom locker room be a well-equipped personal space, and the primary requirements for choosing a gym are cleanliness and safety.

Warm water sprays down in a separate bathroom with good privacy.

Steven didn't look in a good mood, and there was a downturn in the always gentle and sincere eyes of his angular and straight-faced face.

As of today, it was the 157th day since he woke up, New York was the city he was born and raised in, and the city he was once willing to sacrifice everything to save.

But waking up to modern-day New York City makes Steven feel like an outdated, old fart with no point.

Steven doesn't know the news of his former love, Peggy Carter, or close companion, Bucky Barnes, and he doesn't even dare to find out what position he's in after half a century's slumber to show up in front of his deceased friends and cause their lives to ripple again.

Steven Rogers would certainly prefer not to stay in the same place he woke up in - the New York branch of S.H.I.E.L.D..

The fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nick Fury had awakened him without authorization, or even the intention of trying to harness the power of the Tesseract, was something that Steven couldn't agree with.

Carrying a lightweight tote bag, he set off on a journey with no end in sight.

Steven wanted to see the United States of America today, and he wanted to know about people's new lives after the victory over the Nazis.

He came to Los Angeles a week ago and had been to Washington, Atlanta, and Chicago before that, and he was ready to head to San Diego for his next stop, and today was his last day in Los Angeles.

No one needed a serum-injected super-soldier in this day and age anyway, and his impenetrable shield had long since been lost somewhere.

Turning off the shower, Steven briefly wiped down his body a few times, only the lower half of his body was wrapped in a towel, and the clean clothes he was going to change into were in the organizer outside the door.

But as he stepped out of the shower, he was surprised to see a radiant beauty in front of him.

Her eyes were like the projection of the moon in the sky on earth, and standing alone, she could be framed as a classical oil painting.

Margaret had changed out of her sporty black casual clothes and back into the shirt and pants she had worn when she arrived at the gym.

Her hair was still a little wet, probably because she had just recently finished her shower, but there was something about that one-of-a-kind beauty and demeanor that even brought a sense of stepping back in time.

At this point, though, Steven Rogers was clearly a bit flustered-

Because he was wearing only a bath towel.

Margaret's eyes rested on the blonde sweetheart's pecs twice before looking into his eyes, "Would you be interested in becoming a personal trainer?"

Steven hugged his chest as naturally as he could, oh, but the pose clearly made his muscles even more tantalizing.

Being an honest man, Steven Rogers had absolutely no idea in his head how to turn the other man down in such an awkward situation.

"I'm sorry, I was just getting ready."

The brunette's voice was soft and very persuasive, "I just happened to see you training alongside various fitness machines, I'm sure you're well versed in American boxing and judo, or even other different types of fighting arts, I'm in desperate need of a personal trainer, perhaps you'd like to take on the role?"

Captain America, who possessed peak human physical abilities with superb strength, speed, endurance, and reflexes, was simply a bit at a loss for words as he looked at the girl in front of him.

Can we just let him put on his clothes before we talk?

Margaret said - of course not, big breasted sweethearts don't look good.

"Can we talk about this somewhere other than the bathroom?" Steven leaned against the bathroom door, all toned muscles and extraordinarily manly, but two blushes flew across his face.

For the first time, Captain America felt so hot in this bathroom.

Margaret looped her arms around him and took another step closer, staring into his eyes, "Okay, you're coming with me."

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Steven Rogers inexplicably had the illusion of being kidnapped when he was shoved into a black bulletproof nanny van.

By somewhere other than the bathroom, he meant a gym lounge area or a coffee shop or something like that, obviously not the situation that was happening right now.

The only people in the car, besides the driver in the front, were Margaret and her soon-to-be big-breasted trainer.

With the dedicated driver, who was the best at shaking off the paparazzi, Margo was able to leave the Beverly Hilton without attracting the attention and tail of any of them.

Now she was even more daring to trick an extraordinarily honest big-breasted sweetheart into getting into the car.

The honest man finally stopped blushing, "This lady-"

"Margaret Ajani."

"Ms. Ajani, I'm Steven Rogers, and I don't have experience as a personal trainer."

"But your muscles are much prettier than those of a professional personal trainer."

Margaret somehow thought his name sounded familiar.

So didn't notice that because of her remark, honest Steven blushed again.

But what Margo said was indeed true, his toned and powerful muscles simply looked like the peak of what a human could achieve.

The main reason Margaret chose him, though, was the genuine look in his eyes like an old timer.

The gentleman looked too decent and his eyes were a little sad, making you somehow feel as if you were sorry for him.

After Charles Xavier, Margaret felt as if she had met another shining holy father.

It was a good thing that these two, one with a pretty little face and the other a big-breasted sweetheart, were equally distinguished in appearance.

Since they did need to get a personal trainer, trying to look as good as possible was a reasonable request, right?

The bulletproof nanny van had just pulled up outside the Beverly Hills mansion when Brian Lord's blue sports car, pulled into another parking space.

Margo was the first to speak before the fried old cat-like agent inquired, "This is the personal trainer I got for myself, what do you think?"

Brian Lord braced his hands on his hips and almost lost his breath, but had to be nice, "Margo, this is a critical time in the Oscar PR war, and anyone you show up around will have to go through a rigorous identity check."

This is not sensationalized, in the Oscar public relations war, the interests of all parties involved in the back and forth, make what means are not strange, cheating, drugs, domestic violence and babysitting mess, I do not know how many scandals are the public relations war out of the big news.

And the William Morris Agency, which has always been at odds with CAA, is eager to make Ajani lose her reputation as a blow to longtime rival Brian Lord.

CAA is also eager to crush the William Morris Agency under their feet due to the massive and vicious jumping of the sharks a month ago.

Not to mention other people, for example, that Daniel Day-Lewis, who was shortlisted for the Golden Globe and Oscar for Best Actor this year for "In the Name of Love", followed his agent to William Morris Agency.

This is certainly a certain loss for CAA.

That's why Brian Lord was so forceful and made sure to make history again with Margaret at the Oscars.

And Margaret, the newly crowned Golden Globe winner, is putting her hand under Steven Rogers' face as if she's holding his chin, "Bryan, do you honestly and sincerely answer me, does this face look like an unsuspecting guy?"

A decent face with angles that could practically go on to play a superhero, a pair of pure and gentle eyes, straight long legs with toned and reliable muscles, and his upright standing posture like a soldier.

All in all, this gentleman looked more decent than anyone else in the room.

Brian Lord was silent for a moment, "Seriously, he looks a lot like my early childhood favorite Captain America, I still have those posters and postcards."

The driver, who hadn't yet left, suddenly spoke up, "I heard that Captain America was rescued from the Arctic Ocean not too long ago and proceeded to thaw and awaken, but no one knows where he is now."

It seems that this Mr. Driver, who was in his middle age, was also an avid supporter of Captain America.

"What's Captain America's name again?" French girl Marguerite stared at her tricked out personal trainer, "His name is Steven Rogers."

The two middle-aged, avid fans of Captain America didn't get what Margaret meant for a moment.

A few seconds later, Margaret heard her agent, CAA tyrant and Hollywood big shot Brian Lord, sounding like an old cat whose tail had been stepped on, "Captain!"

Steven Rogers was taken aback by him, obviously not expecting the level of insanity of his middle-aged fanatical followers.

Margaret: She doesn't care! Even Captain America has to serve as her personal trainer!