by Emilia Finn
“I’m just me, Ally. This testosterone is a part of who I am.”
“And it’s going to get you into trouble really quick. Oh wait.” I roll my eyes and slowly close my door. “It already did, hence the court-ordered therapy sessions. Burn.”
“You’re mean in the mornings.”
“No, I’m intolerant of feeling like a possession rather than a woman with independence. I was raised by a single mom, Luke, in the city where I was a latchkey kid. I went to college, and learned about human behavior, and before you ask, yeah, I met my fair share of college guys. I even spent time with a few just like you.”
His top lip curls back into a snarl. “Really?”
“Big guy, ink, sports, arrogance, and a wicked smirk? Yeah, there are lots of you around. So unless you can offer something a little more unique than big-muscled dominance wrapped in a fake shell you call best friend, then I’m gonna have to pass on the alpha act. But that guy from last night? The funny guy who played strip poker and helped me anti-steal something… he was cool. Maybe you could ask him to give me a call.”
I step backwards into my room, and close the door once I’m out of the way. And since I’m still on the countdown to when I have to be at work, I leave Luke and all guy problems in the hall, and instead, turn and dash toward the bathroom.
I strip as I go, type out a text as I walk: I don’t do possession, Luke. But I like you. So here’s my number. Don’t make me regret giving it to you.
I drop my clothes and phone on the floor and annoy a future version of myself when I have to come back through and clean up. But still, I drop it all as I go, I flick the taps on the very second I enter the bathroom, and dropping my panties on the floor, I step into the shower and tip my head back so the water spray hits my face and washes away the remnants of a sleepless night.
I smile as I shower, hum as I move shampoo through my hair, and each time I clench my thighs together and memories of last night wash through my stomach, I bite down on my groan and let my smile be free. I had a good night; alpha-hole tendencies and all. I had fun with Luke, Rob, and Emma. Drinking, cards, pretzels and a bucket of skittles. After that, the statue relocation operation, and after that, the best part of the whole night.
But perhaps, even after all of that goodness, this morning, standing in his hall might have been my favorite part of my day. The best friend stuff, the offer of a date. The sweet kiss goodbye.
Stupid, arrogant jerk thinks he gets to ruin all the sweet by peeing on my leg the second a guy – who is much older than me, it should be noted – smiles my way.
Shaking my head, I wash the shampoo from my hair, then I work on the conditioner, and just a few minutes after stepping into the shower, I step out again and go to work drying, moisturizing, and styling.
With enough time to spare, I slide into a pair of heels, and snatch up my phone on the run, then I’m out the door again and heading toward the bakery for my morning iced coffee.
My phone dings just as soon as I join the line for my morning caffeine, a single chirp indicating a text, and when I glance at the screen, I find Luke’s name and open the message – despite the fact I really probably shouldn’t.
I should let him stew, right? A study in human behavior – of behavior modification – means I should ignore him for a little while and let him worry about how to be better.
But I don’t want to modify his behavior. I don’t want to train him like some scared little monkey in the circus. So I open the text immediately, and smile when his words arrow straight for my heart.
‘Best friends forever’ stipulates that we must remain friends… forever. No possession. No weird jealousy. That was my bad, Ally. But in my defense, you should know I’m fighting against evolution here. Do you remember the story about my dad and the guy he thought wanted my mom? Yeah. That’s the kind of bloodline I’m working with. Be patient with me while I learn.
I had a really great time last night. Don’t make it one and done.
See you at seven tonight? We’ll try and beat last night’s record of seventeen Skittles caught in a row.
Have a great day at work. I won’t even stop by all random and shit just for the sake of checking in.
Your BFF – Luke
PS: Tell Sonia to stop being mad about the statue thing. We got him home safely, and now the world is back on its axis.
Shaking my head, I step forward when Darcy the Server’s eyes meet mine, and sliding my phone into my pocket, I ask for my usual iced coffee, and minutes after that, I step out again and head a few streets over toward Sonia’s practice.
Luke
You Will Not Be A Prick
I have a to-do list for today, when I so rarely do. My life, I pride myself on this fact, is usually exceptionally uncomplicated. That’s not to say I live a boring life, nor is it unfulfilling. Just… I tend to keep it pretty straight-line and basic.
At work, clients come to me. At home, Mom finds me no matter where I am. At my apartment, Rob and Emma tend to just be around, and in the gym, anyone who needs to speak with me – usually a cousin who wants to talk technique – comes to me, and we do whatever we have to do.
Now I have a list that includes work, with each of today’s clients listed out in order, then I have lunch with Mom, since she demanded it, then I have to work on the pier at the lake, because if I don’t slowly chip away at it and put in an hour a day, I’m going to run out of time. After the lake, I have to prepare for my date… My first date. Ever. And that thought is terrifying.
Why the fuck am I changing the rules now? Why am I asking to date someone when I’ve spent the last several years floating on a permanently casual basis?
And why, I have to ask myself, am I a little disappointed that ‘court-appointed therapy’ isn’t on my schedule for today?
Because I’m a mess. That’s why. A woman with dark red hair came to town, she said those magical words about love, and though of course everyone knows she wasn’t talking to me, my heart still did a little jump.
Because, what if? What if I was the recipient of such a declaration? What if she smiled when she thought of me, the way she smiles when she speaks of her mother? What if she longed for me the way she has no clue she longs for her great-grandmother’s approval?
I have no clue the answers to most of my questions, but I know that I’m not going to throw away something that might be special. I’m going to do what I’ve always done: throw myself in head-first, and see how it works out. Shit will probably explode – it often does – but not all explosions are bad.
So I get started on my day, and I try my damnedest to push external thoughts away. Not Ally; I keep her right up front and smile while I work. But I push Jason away, along with the half a dozen texts I have sitting unread on my phone. Girls I’ve spent time with in the past. The girl I was with when I got my ass into this court-appointed mess in the first place. I open the texts I need and want – family – but I ignore the rest.
All but one.
Ally: Dinner at 7. See you when you get here.
I work through client after client, and revel in the way each hour is different to the one before. Sometimes, I’m working with a guy who has a chance of becoming a Stacked Deck champion, and other times, I’m working with a young mom whose abdominal muscles separated during pregnancy. One hour a couple days a week, I work with a guy who weighs five hundred pounds – literally. He was heavier when he began, and when he goes in for surgery to remove excess skin, he’ll weigh less again.
He won’t ever be a contender for competition… but here’s hoping he remains a contender for life. Here’s hoping he stays with us for decades to come, and the medications he takes for high blood pressure, among other things, are eventually nixed and replaced with a healthy diet and lifestyle.
Warren might be my biggest achievement inside this gym, which is funny in its own way, considering most of the trainers in here race to get the fittest, baddest, best fighters that walk through the door.
If
I can save this thirty-nine-year-old’s life simply by existing and working out with him a few days a week, then I can probably live my life knowing I’ve done something real, something good and special.
“Luke?”
I’m spotting a client – he’s neither young nor old, neither a contender nor is he overweight. He’s just… an average Joe. But while he slowly brings a bar down over his chest, I glance across to my right, to my dad, and smile. “Hey. I feel like I never see you lately.”
Dad is the original traumatized boy. Abused in all the worst ways, and starved, beaten, and homeless. He had no choice but to grow the fuck up by the time he was in first grade, so when his sister – my Aunt Izzy – arrived, he became father, protector, and provider in one… he was seven or so.
Later, he would meet my mom, and for years, he ruined their relationship because he was scared. Which, I guess, is similar to why I’ve been casual with girls up until this point. I was yet to meet the one that scared me. And now…
“Wanna talk girls?”
Taken aback at my request, Dad sits on a bench just a few feet away and smirks. “Sure. Did you knock one up?”
“No! What the hell is wrong with you?”
He chuckles and picks up a single free weight my client and I haven’t yet put away. He curls it without thinking, sends his bicep firing up, and when his ink – the original inspiration for mine – ripples over muscle, he grins and meets my eyes. “Talk to me about girls.”
“I think I found one that means something.”
“Ally?” He continues to curl, while my client continues to bench press. “The one you brought home yesterday?”
“Yeah. She’s kinda, like…” I place my hands under my client’s bar when he grunts and works to push it up. I don’t touch, but I wait, I prepare. “She’s kinda special, I think. She scares me.”
Dad’s brows wing up as my client drops his bar on the rack. “Chicks who scare us are… well… special.”
“Right.” Chuckling, I pass a bottle of water when my client sits upright. “You married the original scary chick, so I know what it looks like. Now I met one, and I showed my ass this morning.”
Dad stops curling, holds the weight mid-rep, and meets my eyes. “Literally, or figuratively?”
I snort. “Well, both. But for the purposes of this discussion, I mean figuratively. We were having a great time, we parted on good terms, I went for a run, and I just so happened to see her talking to another guy, and bam!” I bite off a swear. “It scared me, Dad, because he wasn’t ugly. He was smiling at her, he was making her smile. So I did what I do—”
“You showed your ass.”
“Yeah. I pissed on her leg, made the world aware I was here and wasn’t going anywhere.”
“She didn’t like that, did she?”
I breathe out a soft laugh. “Not even a little bit. But see,” I glance back up, “she told me off for it. She has a spine of steel, and that’s really cool in itself. She told me off, told me to smarten the fuck up, and stop with that bullshit. I’m not stupid, Dad, so I know that if I don’t do better, she’ll walk. And the thought that she might walk scared me a million times more than the thought of her talking to a dude.”
“So she’s special.” He places the weight on the rubber-matted floor, switches hands, and starts again. “You hardly know her, but the idea she might walk is scary to you.”
“Exactly. She and I might not be right for each other, but we don’t know that yet, and the idea she could bolt before we even test it out is terrifying.”
“So then the answer is simple. Stop pissing on her.”
I roll my eyes and prepare for my client’s next set when he tosses his water and lays down. He’s listening in to everything we’re saying, playing out his own scenarios in his mind. But he doesn’t seem all that mad to be privy to private life bullshit while paying for my time.
“I know the answer,” I tell Dad. “That was an easy fix. I said I was sorry, I confirmed we were still on for dinner, and then when she replied and said yes, I figure we’re good again.”
“So what’s the problem? You fixed it, and it only took you, what, half an hour?”
I nod.
He snorts. “It took me years, so you’re already cruising.”
“The fuck-up wasn’t the issue.” I place my hands under the bar in front of me, and when my client’s muscles begin to fail, I add a little assist. “The fact I care so much is the problem. I don’t know what to do with that shit. I’ve never cared before.”
“Ah… I see.”
Dad finishes curling, he makes sure he does even reps on each side – it’s like an OCD thing for people who regularly spend time inside a gym – then he sets the weight down and chews on his bottom lip. “Ya know, back before you and Rob were born, years before, your mom was pregnant with another baby. It was back when we were pretending to be friends – well, only friends, and I had mountains of emotional baggage I hadn’t yet offloaded.”
“I already know this story.”
He smiles and gives a gentle nod. “True. You know about that baby. We’ve never hidden it from you boys, but I guess I’m just saying, back then, I was vehemently against having kids. You little fuckers, I wanted nothing to do with your kind.”
I laugh, and so does my client, so his bar falls, and I have to catch it. “Thanks, Dad.” I set the bar in the rack. “I’ve always felt your love.”
“I was scared,” he adds seriously. “Your mom already scared the piss out of me. The idea that I could lose her was damn near paralyzing. Then this new element was thrown in, a baby. Except I didn’t know until it was all over. The baby was never meant to be, your mom had to face all that on her own – the loss, the fear, the sadness, and then the bitterness, since I’d been so fucking vocal on not wanting kids. She had to carry all that on her own. But by the time she told me, when she told me, I had a second to be mad. I don’t want no stupid fucking kids! Then a second after that, I was scared, because suddenly, I had something else to lose. Then I did lose it. So many fucking fears, Luke. And your mom was throwing them at me, one after another. Slam, slam, slam. She was relentless. I just…”
He chews on the inside of his cheek for a second. “I guess I’m saying I know that fear. The knowing you don’t want something, but then a switch is flipped, and now you want it, and the thought of losing it stings.”
“I didn’t know I wanted serious,” I admit. “In fact, I was anti-serious.”
“Then Ally walked in, and slam.”
Nodding, I go to the end of the bar in front of me, I release the weights, and place the disks on the floor. “Right. I didn’t want it, now I can’t live without it. And it feels extra scary, because Ally and I are brand new. To be talking serious so soon feels dumb.”
“And you’re afraid of being laughed at because it happened so quickly?”
I think on that for a moment. Mull it over in my head. Then I nod. “I guess. I don’t want her to laugh at me, I don’t want her to leave me, and I don’t want her to be scared off because maybe she doesn’t want serious.”
“It grates that you’ve handed over the control. She holds your happiness in her hands, and that is scary for you.”
“It’s fucking terrifying. And let’s not forget she doesn’t even live here. She’s only here for a little while, then she’s leaving.”
He shakes his head and breathes out a soft scoff. “Don’t even try to freak out about distance. She lives an hour away, not all the way across the country. Your cousin didn’t even know where Quinn lived. He lost contact for years, so if you try to act all whiney about the one-hour drive, he might pop you in the mouth for being a little bitch.”
“You have such a way with words, Dad. So comforting in my time of need.”
“Time of need,” he grumbles. “Boy, you’re soft if you think your world is falling down right now.”
I narrow my eyes and glare.
“You’re in the beginning,” he presses. “This is t
he most magical time for you and Ally, and you’re ruining it with the what-ifs. She’s not going anywhere for the next little while, and she told you to stop pissing on her leg. She didn’t tell you to fuck off and never call. She simply communicated what she expects from you, you responded right back, and now you’re both on track for your date tonight. Right?”
“Right.”
“So harden the fuck up.” He stands and claps my back when I scowl. “Everything’s okay, you’re gonna smile a whole fuckin’ lot tonight while you eat a meal with her, and then, slowly, as time passes and you keep doing the thing you’re doing, you’ll both know. It might be forever, or it might be for now, but either way, it’s good for you to be a little scared. It means it’s important. It’s character-building.”
“You’re an ass, you know that?” I shake my head and watch as he backs away. “I told you all my deepest, darkest fears, and you ended our chat with ‘harden the fuck up’.”
He shrugs and lets his gaze zoom across the gym when Mom walks in.
They’ve been married for more than two decades already, but he still watches her like they’re brand new. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what scares me the most. I want two decades and a love that still feels brand new, even after all that time.
Like Dad and the baby that was never meant to be, I didn’t know I wanted this with Ally, but now that I do know, I’m terrified it might all fall away and leave me empty-handed.
“Be cool,” Dad says. “Be happy in the now, and in a couple months, make your move. You have time to enjoy this without the worry.”
“And if another good-looking motherfucker tries to make her smile?”