Page 15 of Reluctantly You

I arch an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, go ahead. No one’s stopping you.”

He bounces over to the small bag a few feet from me, and I watch as he throws a punch at it, gasping when he makes contact.

“Oh, ouch! That hurts.”

He waggles his hand in front of him and blows on it, turning to look at me with stained cheeks.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this, dude. I just want a six pack.”

I feel my lips twitch, and I force back a smile. I will not encourage him speaking to me. He seems like a clinger. And I don’t need that shit in my life, especially when it’s all falling apart.

No. I’m angry and mad.

Yes, very angry.

I turn back to my bag and get to work, exhausting myself before moving out into the main area and hopping on the treadmill. In the distance, I see Emery using the free weights, making funny faces at himself in the mirror and giggling. After ignoring him, he’s left me alone.

Thank fuck.

I turn my gaze back to the televisions and pick up the pace until I can no longer breathe. When I finally jump off the machine, I’m tapped out and panting. But I still press on, working on my legs with weighted squats. I do just a few reps while trying not to look at Emery, who is on the floor trying to do a push-up, his ass in the air, his elbows barely moving.

This kid could really use a trainer, a personal one. Seven days a week.

He seems a little hopeless. But also determined.

I wonder what that feels like?

I don’t ponder it too long, just move to the lockers when I’m done, my body aching in the best way as I step into the open showers, thankful it’s empty as I wash the sweat of the day away. When I leave the gym, I feel slightly better. Smashing the bag was helpful in releasing the tension building up inside of me. I should do that every morning as well, especially since I have no one to meet with me for basketball anymore. And I dropped outof the soccer team I’d signed up for, not in the mood for it this year since Matt bailed on me.

He sure did lead me on when it came to that. He could have just said he didn’t want to from the beginning.

When I make it home, I hear the telltale meow from the bushes and ignore it, moving inside and setting my things down in the kitchen. As soon as I’m alone, the drab gray walls seem to almost immediately start closing in on me. My mind wanders to the lonely creature outside, starved for attention. And before I can question it, I grab a can of tuna from the cabinet, open it, and set it outside my front door. I don’t wait to see if the cat eats it, but at least I did something.

It’s more than my dad’s done for me.

More than anyone has done for me.

Maybe now it will shut up and leave me alone.

Chapter Four

Mitch

It doesn’t make it go away. The damn cat is relentless. It wakes me up at five in the morning on Sunday, screaming at my window. I stumble from my room, pulling the front door open in a fury, and the damn thing just struts right in. Calm and curious, as if it hadn’t just been begging in hysterics.

“Fuck no,” I murmur, picking it up and setting it back outside. I notice the empty tuna can from two nights ago turned over in the dirt and my chest squeezes. But before I can close the door, the cat bolts back inside, scurrying under the couch with a cheeky meow.

I huff in frustration, spinning around, determined to make that damn creature go outside again, but it sneaks further under the couch. So far that even when I get on my knees, I can’t reach it.

“Shit,” I murmur, still on the ground, staring at those blue eyes peering back at me. I hear a small, sweet meow, in contrast with the rude one earlier, and I let out a growl.

“Fuck you, you little shit,” I murmur and then roll onto my back in defeat, staring up at the ceiling. For a moment, peach hues swirl in my vision before they disintegrate into grays once more.

I throw an arm over my eyes and inhale.

I really can’t deal with this, not right now. If this rodent wants to make its home in my house for the day, so be it. I have zero desire to bother with it.

---