Page 35 of Bombshells
* * *
Five minutes later we’ve figured it out.
“This will work better with encouragement,” I tell the kids. “Give it up for Anton, maker of bets, lifter of future lifeguards!”
All the teens cheer up a storm.
Anton is lying on his back, on a couple of towels, right between two benches. There’s a backboard lying across the benches—that thing they strap you onto if you injure your spinal cord.
And Cedric is on top of that board. “Ready boss?” he calls.
“Ready steady!” Anton places his palms on the underside of the board, lets out a roar, and pushes the board off the benches.
I hope he doesn’t strain something. His coach will not be happy.
The kids screech as the board wobbles, but he manages to lift it into the air more or less levelly. Cedric lets out a shout of victory.
“It’s up, and it’s good!” I cry. “More reps!”
He lowers the board a few inches and lifts it three more times just for show. Cedric is laughing his ass off up there, too.
Then Anton sets the board back down on the benches, letting out a huge breath. And the cheering reaches a fevered pitch.
After the two men get up again, there’s a lot of back-slapping and high-fiving that happens before the teens finally clear out.
“See you next week!” I call after them, while Anton picks up the props, grinning. “Want to ride the subway back with me?” I ask him.
“Of course.” He gives me a brilliant smile.
* * *
Ten minutes later we emerge from our respective locker rooms more or less at the same time, because I didn’t want to make him wait while I blow dry my hair.
“You know, we could get a taxi,” I offer, even though I’m a fan of saving money. “It’s game day, right?”
“It’s a scrimmage,” he says with a shrug. “Split squad.” Half their team will play half the New Jersey team, and the other halves will meet in New Jersey. “At least I got the Brooklyn game. When’s your first matchup, anyway?”
“Two weeks.” I lick my lips. “Home game against Buffalo.”
“You playing?” he asks, athlete to athlete.
“Probably not,” I admit. “But I’m making progress.”
He puts his hand up to flag down a yellow cab. “I’ll bet you are. Spending a lot of time at the gym, yeah?”
He sees me there all the time. Our practices are at night, but during the day I use the weight room, which is mostly empty, because my teammates are at work.
“So much time. I’m doing a ton of cardio. Hey—where do you like to run outside? I asked Bryce for recommendations, but he said I should just use the treadmills.” I roll my eyes. “He thinks I’m going to get mugged.”
“I’ll take you running,” he offers as a cab stops for us. “Not, like, as your bodyguard. Just to show you the best spots.”
“Would you?” It comes out sounding a little too eager. “Thank you.”
“Sure. I could do early tomorrow before morning skate. Or after it.”
“After,” I say quickly. “If you’re already tired, maybe I can keep up with you.”
“It’s a date,” he says, and I find my face warming for no reason at all. But Anton always has that effect on me—like, I can’t feel calm when he’s nearby. I really don’t understand it.
