“Why do you do that?” Morgan flings the door to her locker shut with an extra zing that makes me flinch at the clanging sound.
I sigh and pull my legs up to the bench so I can tie my shoes.
“I don’t know. I just don’t want her to feel bad. She’s trying to help.”
“You want her to like you. That’s what it is. You think letting people down will translate to turning them away.” Her mouth lands in a straight line and she juts her hip out as she leans against the lockers and stares me down.
“I mean, it seems to work that way with you,” I half joke. I’m not laughing. Morgan rolls her eyes.
Again.
“All I mean is maybe being honest would relieve some of that pressure. Lily would understand. Hell, she’d probably get it more than anyone here after all she’s been through.” Morgan’s face softens as she exhales and studies me. I can’t hold her gaze more than a second before blinking my focus down to my lap.
“You’re probably right,” I admit.
Morgan’s fingertips tickle my shoulder and I glance up, relieved to see her smiling, even if it’s forced and slight.
“We’re both here for you, is all. Same way you’re here for us. We all get to play Anika now,” she says, squeezing my shoulder once before leaving me alone with my thoughts.
We all get to play Anika.
I run my palms down my leggings, applying compression to my thighs, knees, and calves. I miss Anika. I was a better version of myself when she was here. I still don’t think I’d be slipping into a swimsuit that shows every divot and scar that mars my right leg, but I might be more open about talking about my body issues.
I form my regular clothes into a tight roll and tuck them in my gym bag then toss it into my locker, shutting the door gently, as if I’m somehow balancing out the emotional universe in contrast to Morgan’s slam.
I pull my phone from my hip pocket and push my earbuds in my ears before scrolling to the workout listed on my physical therapy app. This is what I’m able to handle. And it has been helping. Though I cheat my way through some of the exercises.
A little Halsey and Grimes pumping in my ears, I feel stronger by the time my feet hit the mat flooring in the weight room. It’s crowded today, which I oddly prefer. I’m anonymous this way, just another co-ed working out after classes, trying to stay fit. I take my seat on the leg press machine and prop my phone in the cupholder so I can keep track of the various exercises I need to knock out today. I’ve learned that the hard stuff comes at the end, so I start there while my strength is up.
Shaking my head to the thumping bass in my ears, I center my right foot on the platform and push—ten pounds less than my workout tells me to, but I can handle this. I’m counting in my head, excited to be close to ten, when my final push and release reveals a shirtless Cameron Hass straddling the bench across from me. He shoots me a crooked smile and I let the platform fall toward me, my leg suddenly Jell-O.My body suddenly Jell-O.
He chuckles before bending down, grabbing his towel from the floor near his left foot, then shooting me that damn crooked smile before heading my direction.
So much for being anonymous. And so much for banning fantasies about Cameron from my brain. The slow stroll toward me, sans shirt, shorts hugging hips, muscles moving around his midriff like hypnotic, unfair warfare—this is all going to haunt me at bedtime.
I pull my right earbud free, leaving the music on in the left as if drowning it out will somehow make my heart stop the rapid-action fluttering business going on.
“Hi, stranger.”Really? Those are the words that come out of my mouth.
He nods, like a dude, and sits on a nearby bench.
“Looks like you’re having some trouble there?”
My mouth opens, and I continue to stare at him, straddling the bench with his shirt off until he dips his chin and lowers his head enough to catch my attention and bring it back up to his face.OMG!
“Oh, that. The slip, you mean? Or rather, I didn’t slip. I should be doing more weight, and I was admonishing myself for it and about to up the amount.”Lie, lie, lie!
“Lemme see,” he says, swinging a leg over the bench to stand and walk over to me. I swallow hard, wishing I wasn’t trapped in this contraption and able to run away.
I hand over my phone because the other option—hugging it to my chest and saying nuh-uh like a toddler—is absurd.
Cameron palms my phone, flipping through today’s workout list with his thumb while he runs his other hand through his hair. I lean back and scan the weight room while he reads the list of exercises I’m knowingly not doing correctly. Most of the football team is in here for optional lifting before their practice. Morgan is running on one of the treadmills near James, our new quarterback. And Theo, Lily’s boyfriend and Anika’s brother, is staring at his own muscles in the mirror with intense scrutiny.
Okay, all right. Nobody is seeing me fall apart in front of Cameron Hass. Because of Cameron Hass.
I swallow again and bring my attention back to Cameron’s eyes. They’re scanning my phone screen and he’s nodding.
“So according to this, you’re about fifteen pounds too light for this exercise,” he says, moving toward the pin and adjusting the weight.