by A. E. Murphy
“I can imagine. I’ll only need an hour of your time. You can do your work first. I’m flexible.”
I bet you are... I think rudely and smile to myself.
“You’re going to take over my life, aren’t you?” I sigh heavily though I can think of worse things. “Fine, but I expect something in return for all of this.”
“What?” He looks worried. Is he scared I’ll ask him for his skin or something?
“Oh, I’ll think of something.” I grin wickedly and start to jog.
He passes me a second later, ruining my devious vibe. That would have been so much cooler had I been in a convertible with the roof down, sunglasses perched on my nose and chewing gum in my mouth.
“Come on, let’s push it this time.”
“As long as it’s my version of pushing it!” I call after him as his back gets further and further away from me.
Then the show off turns and jogs at my pace backwards. “What’s your version of pushing it?”
“It involves cake and my mouth.” I pant, followed by a wheeze. “Is it home time yet? I already need a shower.”
“Me too.” He raises his arm, showing me a mighty sweat patch.
“You certainly know the best way to woo a girl, Dillan.” I giggle breathlessly.
“Well, if it works…” He turns to face the front. “Come on, hurry up.”
I’m dead.
My body is no longer living.
When we circle back to my house, I run faster than I ever have in my life. I’m eager to die in my home.
Dillan doesn’t even come inside; he only leaves me with my salad and promises that he’ll see me later before biking away as if the run did nothing to him.
I’m dead. As I said before, I am literally dead. “Mum!” I yell as I stumble in through the front door.
“What?” She races into the hallway looking panicked. “Run me a bath and carry me upstairs.”
“Where have you been?”
“Jogging.” I drop onto the carpet and starfish.
She snorts and quickly ascends the stairs in her satin PJs. “I’ll run you a bath. Make it quick, though; you have class at eight-thirty.”
“I might drown.”
“Drama queen.”
I’m not kidding. I actually might.
Even after forcing down a protein shake and a banana on my way to school, I’m still craving chocolate and cakes. It is driving me mad. I just want to lose myself in a packet of biscuits and a cup of tea but I don’t want to ruin my progress. All of this hard work would be for nothing.
So, I suffer through my day until lunch and shake my salad box at Dillan, who is sitting with his usual group of friends across the room. He grins, winks and goes back to his conversation. The girl across from him, one of the main bitches that used to make my life hell, looks between us both before turning to the female beside her. Now both are staring. I make a mental note to avoid them for a while.
I look at my salad and prod it with a fork. It doesn’t look so bad. It is a finely diced mixture of onion, lettuce, cabbage, red pepper, cucumber and tomato. Normally I’d gip at the sight of most of these vegetables but they look surprisingly tasty when mixed together.
I have a bite and confirm my thoughts. It’s a lovely salad. There are little pieces of cheese in it that I didn’t see before but I do now.
It might be my new favourite healthy dish.
Tyler: I need a daily supply of this salad.
I look up and watch him check his phone. He smiles and catches my eye before replying.
Dillan: You liked it? Hurrah! Is that my payment to you?
I feel giddy as our eyes meet again and I respond once more.
Tyler: No, that’s just an added bonus.
Dillan: Fine. What time will you be done with your coursework?
Tyler: It’ll take me around an hour.
He doesn’t reply and I watch him leave the canteen without so much as a goodbye. I can’t hold it against him as I’ll be seeing him later.
I finish my salad while sitting beside artificial friends from last class.
“Mum,” I wrap my arms around her from behind and press my cheek to her shoulder. “I might have a friend coming over soon.”
“A friend?”
“A male friend.”
“A male friend?” She tries to turn but I keep her pinned. My mum always smells lovely, like fresh flowers and winter air.
“Just a friend, if that. I’m his school get-fit project.” I say this with more disdain than I mean and I can’t be sure if the disdain is aimed at the exercise I’m being forced to do or the fact that the only reason Dillan is even interested is because of his project. I’m not sure it matters. Maybe we can actually become close friends.
“You’re going to have to explain that one.”
“Later, I have a ton of homework to do.” I release her and fill a glass with water before downing as much as I can. “Please don’t offer him any kind of food or drink. Let me handle it.”
“Seriously?” She whines. “I’ll seem like such a rude host.”
“You’re not the host, Mum. He invited himself.”
“Oh, did he now?” She wags her eyebrows suggestively. “And it’s all so platonic, right?”
“Stop.” I abandon my drink. “I’m going to finish my work.”
“I’ll tidy your bedroom around you!” She follows me, annoyingly.
I gawp at her over my shoulder. “What is wrong with you? You’re practically begging me to get pregnant.”
“You?” She laughs louder than I’ve heard before, the cheeky bitch. “You’re one step away from being a nun.” Then she winks mischievously. “Just leave your door open.”
“He’s not coming into my bloody bedroom, you nutter. Go call Dad or something.”
“He’s driving.” She pouts.
I dive onto my bed and plug in my laptop. True to her word, she tidies my room around me though I keep it tidy enough. She’s mental if she thinks I’m letting anyone come in here. This is my private space. From the grey ceiling, down the purple walls, to the dark grey carpeted floor, it’s all mine and nobody but Mum comes in here and only because she allows herself access.
If I could take this room with me to university I would.
I wish I hadn’t put my headphones in because then I wouldn’t be as startled as I am now. Dillan is resting against the door jamb to my room.
“Holy shit,” I curse quietly and yank the buds from my ears. “What are you doing in here?”
“Your mum sent me up.” He bites on his lip and looks around my personal space. “Nice room.”
“I’m going to kill her,” I whisper so quietly that he doesn’t hear me, or if he does he doesn’t show it. He’s too busy wandering around my room, looking at the pictures on my wall around the door. “What’s the plan?” I stand, hoping he gets the message.
He doesn’t. He takes hold of a picture of myself and an old friend hanging by the door.
“Isn’t that Katie Lee Parker?” I nod.
“You two were friends?”
I nod again, feeling my stomach twist. “I’m sorry about what happened to her.”
I give him a tight-lipped smile and change the subject. “So, shall we go?”
He nods and waits for me to pass him before following. “More walking?”
“Planking,” he responds easily.
Even the thought of planking makes my body hurt!
“You’re kidding?” I don’t know why I bothered asking that because, clearly, he isn’t.
He points to the ground.
“Right here?” Again, yet another stupid question from yours truly.
Lowering myself to my knees, I breathe in and out slowly.
Dillan lowers himself in front of me.
“You know how to plank, right?” He asks and I shoot him a look that I just mentally shot at myself for being so moronic. “Good. Go until I say stop.”
If he says stop after ten seconds, I’ll never forgive him
.
“Oh my god,” I cry as I push my arms and legs into position.
They’re already shaking. “This is torture. I hate you.”
He grins and moves himself into an easy looking plank. He even starts bringing his legs up towards his chest. I’m struggling to just hold it here.
“Lower your hips towards the ground a little bit more,” he tells me, assessing my form with his eyes. I notice how his eyes linger on my round arse for a little longer than I’d deem necessary.
Regardless, I do as I’m told and hiss through my teeth as my body burns in protest.
“Breathe,” he commands softly. “Almost done.” I want to drop. I’m going to drop. “And done.” I drop with a mighty groan.
“I want to be fat forever.”
“Stop saying that,” he chastises, though when I meet his eyes I see the humour there. “Insecurity isn’t an attractive trait. You should learn to love yourself.”
“Sorry, Yoda.” I roll my eyes and pull myself up into a sitting position.
“What was it that made you start to hate yourself so much?”
The pity in his eyes makes my stomach do a little nauseous flip. “I don’t hate myself; I’m just bantering.”
He doesn’t look as though he believes me, not that I can blame him. I’m not sure I believe it.
“I have to laugh at myself. It lessens the sting of when other people laugh at me.”
Now he’s frowning. Christ, even when he frowns he’s attractive. “Who laughs at you?”
“Like you don’t know,” I scoff and stand. “Let’s just get this over with. What now?”
After a long pause, he finally pulls his head back into the game. “Crunches.”
“I fucking hate my life,” I sob dramatically and drop back onto the ground.
“I’m not surprised. When was the last time you actually socialised?” He chuckles and when he receives my death glare he gulps and adds, “No offence.”
“I’ve never connected with anyone in that school.”
Using his warm, large hands he helps me into the correct position and then rests his knees either side of my feet so they don’t lift from the ground as my torso battles with gravity.
“So,” I pant as I lift and meet his eyes. “Why did you choose me for this project out of everyone else in school? Especially the girls.” It’s getting harder and more painful. Gravity is winning. “There are like fifty of them just waiting for you to fart so they can bottle it…”
“That’s not gross at all.”
“The sarcasm is strong in this one.” I flop to the ground. “Keep going,” he snaps, forcing me to do another three. “Did you bring me more salad?”
He laughs through his nose and helps me to my feet. “Tomorrow morning.”
“I think I need a rest day.”
Smiling warmly, he goes back to admiring the pictures around the door. “You don’t. Now start with the squats.” I hesitate. “You do know how to squat right?”
“Yes, I just don’t think you’re hearing me. I really don’t think I can do this every day.”
“You just need to get past the first two weeks,” he insists, turning and leaning against the door jamb to face me. “Trust me.”
“Ugh.”
“Fine, I’ll make you a deal; if you stick with me and do what I ask for the next two weeks, I’ll take you to my mum’s restaurant on the Saturday.”
Blink. “I thought the whole objective was to cruelly starve me.”
“If you feel hungry, then eat; just eat the right stuff.” He taps away on his phone and then shows me the screen. “I’m keeping a log of everything as we go. It’ll stay private. I need an accurate update on your weight tomorrow morning and I’ll make you a nutritional plan to stick to.”
“I’m hungry now,” I grumble.
“You’re just saying that to get out of squats.”
“I’m always hungry.”
“Fine, after this we’ll eat, okay?”
I nod, only slightly appeased. “Where does your mum work?”
“She runs a fancy place called Weston Crown over on Bellevue.”
No shit! “Are you kidding? Your mum is that chef?
Guinevere?”
“Yeah, she’s super talented.”
“Well that explains how you can afford the school tuition.” I’m tempted. I do love food and it’s not very often I get to dine in such an exquisite place, especially the Weston Crown. You have to book months in advance just to get a table. “And I can have anything I want? A starter, main and dessert?”
“Anything,” he agrees, grinning triumphantly now. “It’ll just be you, me and a lot of food.”
“And your mum.”
“She’ll probably come and say hi. She’s great though; don’t worry.”
This feels alarmingly like a date. “How many squats am I doing?”
“Just keep going until I tell you to stop.”
“Your mum’s cooking better be worth it,” I mutter, though I just know deep down that it will be soul altering.
My mum suddenly appears in the doorway, standing at her slight five foot two. A curious and wicked smirk plays at her lips.
Dillan suddenly stands, “I apologise, I just realised I didn’t introduce myself to you earlier.” He holds out his hand to my impressed mother. “I’m Dillan Weston, a friend of Tyler’s.”
I have to blink a few times to clear my head. He’s so wellmannered and polite. She shakes his hand briefly. “It’s nice to meet you, Dillan. I’m Tammy Shepherd.”
“Thank you for having me. I’m just helping Tyler work out.”
“She warned me; don’t you worry. I’ll leave you both to it.” She winks at me far too obviously the absolute moron. “Your brother has just called, Ty.”
“He has?” I squeak, my happiness soaring. “When is he coming home?”
“Christmas.” She grins, though Christmas is just so far away. “Your dad called too; he will be home in an hour.”
“I saw him yesterday,” I deadpan and urge her to leave with a glare. She gets the hint and winks again so badly both of her eyes close but then quickly doubles back and states, “Your dad’s car is fixed by the way.” She looks at Dillan intensely for a moment, or perhaps I imagined it. “No more shiny, red Audi rental.”
“Aww, I’ll miss Ana the Audi,” I sigh dramatically and then give her the look again. She grins and leaves, hopefully for good this time. “Somebody smashed into my dad’s car the other week.” I tell him, just in case he was wondering.
“Yikes.” He cringes. “Was it bad?”
I shrug. “The car was fucked but my dad was fine and nobody was hurt. He was dropping my brother off at…”
“I forgot you have a brother.” Dillan starts doing reverse lunges so I copy. My balance is so terrible Dillan offers me his locked hands to hold onto. I do so, only because I figure falling on my face will be far more devastating than holding his hands for a short while.
“He’s in his second year of university now.” I look at his picture next to my laptop on my desk. “I miss him.”
“He’s a good brother?”
“Definitely not.” I smile. “But he has his moments.”
We share a look of warmth before going for another lunge. “He was my upper school buddy back in year nine. I
idolised him for those brief two days.”
It’s hard to imagine Dillan idolising anyone. He seems so old for his age, so mature.
“Is it rest time yet?” I groan, hating the burning in my thighs.
He stops and we shake it off. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”
“As long as it’s a walk and not a jog.”
His eyes roll heavenward. “How do you expect to lose weight and tone if you don’t exercise?”
“I didn’t have any biscuits, chocolate or bad stuff yesterday.”
“Hence the fact we need to weigh you in the morning.”
Frown. “I really don’t know how I feel about
you knowing my weight.”
“Weight doesn’t matter. I guarantee by the time I’m through with you, you’ll weigh similar to what you do now but not have an ounce of fat on your toned muscle.”
He makes it sound so easy. I feel as though he might be a little naïve, purely because of how easy it is for him to say no to food and yes to exercise. There’s no point arguing with him about it.
I know I have a food addiction and this persistent help will kick my arse into gear that little bit more.
We head out into the city streets, walking but not talking. He doesn’t give me any demands; he doesn’t tell me to jog or to drop and give him twenty; we just walk to the park and then sit side by side on swings.
“So,” I break the silence, “is Shona your girlfriend?”
“Definitely not,” he states, looking straight ahead.
“Good.” I respond, without using my brain to mouth filter. “She’s awful.”
He looks at me now, his brows raised. “Yeah, she’s not the most pleasant of people.”
“Are you gay?”
“Are you?”
“Maybe.” I grin, kicking the dirt on the ground with the rubber toe of my silver Converse.
“Why’d you ask that anyway? Do I seem gay?” The look he’s giving me is one of insecurity. I’m betting he’s worried he gives off the vibe.
“No, I just wondered why you were so nice in comparison to your group of friends.”
“And that would make me gay?”
“No.” I shrug. “But I had to rule it out.”
He laughs through his nose. “They aren’t all bad. Carl is the best guy I know. Leroy has… he has issues.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Definitely, he can be a bit hard to swallow at times.”
I cock my head and giggle. “But you just said you weren’t gay.”
“Ha. Ha.” He shoves my arm so my swing rocks sideways. “Very funny.”
“So,” I ask once the laughter diminishes, “what do you do in your spare time?”
“Other than exercise?” He asks and I nod in response. “Well, I cook, and whenever I can I look after my baby sister.”
“I bet she’s adorable.”
“I miss her.”
“Miss her?”
“Yeah, school is like a two-hour drive from home. It’s about half an hour out of London but it takes forever to get there when there’s traffic.”