Page 59 of Where We Belong
“You think she’d give me the job?” I ask.
“Always dreamed of being a midnight Cinderella?” he teases.
“Sure, why not.”
“Wait, you’re serious? Why?” he asks, looking at me funny.
“Wouldn’t mind the extra cash,” I admit. Earlier today, I got a call from my bank that the interest rate on my loans needed to be recalculated, and that single sentence made me shiver. I’ll now owe the bank an even bigger shit ton of money than I already did.
Without my surgery, I wouldn’t currently be in so much debt. My mother thought it was stupid to spend money on a body that would recover on its own. And sure, it might have recoveredenough, but never to a point that would have allowed me to compete again, and that was a loss I wasn’t ready to face. So I had the surgery, and the weeks of rehab, and it paid off, I think. It also put me in a situation that’s so precarious I could cry.
“How much?” Finn asks in a strained voice. “Maybe I could—”
“Finn, stop,” I interrupt, looking up from my plank. “I’m not looking for a sugar daddy.”
“What the fuck, Lex?” he says with a bark of laughter. “I never said you were.”
“Just making sure.”
“You’re too much,” he says. “And your plank times are too much too.”
“Shut up and hold it.”
He groans but does as I say.
“So what do you need the money for?” he says after five seconds, probably to distract himself from the pain. I know that strategy well.
“A whole lot of medical debt.”
“Right. I’m sorry,” he says.
“It is what it is.” I flick my eyes up. “Get that butt down.”
“Tyrant.” He puffs out air.
“Want those abs or not?”
“Ihaveabs.”
He does.
“Keep telling yourself that,” I tease, and he snickers, knowing I’m full of shit.
After another few seconds of silence, Finn says, “So what’s the plan?”
“Not sure.” If I got my sponsors back, things would be different, but right now, my options are winning the lottery or selling an organ. “But don’t worry. I’m used to hustling.” I don’t remember a single day in my life when I wasn’t worried whether we’d be able to pay the bills at the end of the month. I used to have nightmares about my mom pulling me out of gymnastics so she could afford groceries and cigarettes. She did cut me off for a few months when I was ten, but thankfully, my coaches saw something in me and let me train with them for free, until I was old enough to work for them.
“So why didn’t you try to get a college scholarship?”
“I didn’t want one. I sucked at school, and I never cared for it anyway.” Sure, it would’ve paid for my gym fees, but at what cost? I would’ve had to spend hours on end in a classroom, studying something that was useless to me, all to be able to train. It felt like a waste of my time.
“Even when you were younger?”
“Even then.” I snicker. “I barely passed my classes all throughout high school because I couldn’t focus on anything other than my training. Didn’t care about the rest.”
He grins. “Haven’t changed much, have you?”
I shrug, knowing he’s right. Do I wish I could be any other way? Of course, I do. I wish I could’ve been strong enough to stay in Phoenix. I wish I could’ve done whatever it took for Josie. But I’m selfish enough to still want it more than anything. To have that goal take control of my life, because itismy life.
