Page 60 of Where We Belong
I glance up, but his gaze already on me. “Have you never wanted anything like that?”
He shakes his head, arms trembling under his weight. “Not really, no. I’ve always kind of…bounced round, I guess? Looking for the next thing to do.”
“Is that why your apartment still looks like you’re ready to move out at any moment?”
One of his knees falls to the mat.
“It’s okay, let’s switch to a side plank,” I say.
He hums, and only once he’s in a position says, “Maybe you got a point.”
For some reason, it doesn’t make me happy to be right.
“I mean,” he starts, “I do have some short term goals, but—”
“Like what?”
We’re facing each other, so I can see the bob of his throat. “I’ve started considering maybe going back to college, actually. Get a business degree, or something. It know it sounds stupid, but—”
“Do you want to do it?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says without a moment’s hesitation, which gives me even more proof that his mind is made up.
“Then it’s not stupid,” I answer simply. “Not at all.”
He doesn’t say anything as we move on to the other side, then back into a midline plank, but I can tell that his silence is reflective. His mind is likely as loud as he is quiet.
The heating system kicks on, creating a whirr above us that mixes with the music and the sounds of our breaths.
“All right,” I say, bringing my knees down and sitting on my heels.
Finn goes down less gently, letting his entire body drop to the ground. He groans, then sniffs. “It’s only with my face this close to the mat that I realize how much it smells like ass.”
Laughter spills out of me at the sudden break in tension. That’s Finn in a nutshell. “You’ve only just realized this?”
“It’s horrible. I feel like I’m stuck with a thousand kids’ stinky feet in a bouncy castle with no way out.”
“Is that what your nightmares look like? Bouncy castles?”
“Among other things.”
“What else?” I can’t imagine Finn having nightmares. He’s always so chirpy, I can only see him having sunshine-and-rainbow dreams.
He sighs, seriousness immediately permeating the air. “You wouldn’t want to know.”
“I’m pretty sure I would, actually.” When he doesn’t answer, I bump him with my toe. “Tell me or I’ll make you smell my own stinky feet.”
“Kill me now.”
I shift on the floor so my foot moves closer to his face.
“All right, all right.” He rolls from his stomach onto his back. “Jesus, I thought torture was illegal in the States.”
“Ha, ha. Now spill.”
His face sombers, and even if he could choose not to tell me, I have a feeling he will. The gym at night feels different. It’s so quiet, so personal, that every time we’re here alone, it almost feels like a different universe. One where it’s safe to share secrets.
Finn sits cross-legged, reminding me of a little boy as he plays with the laces of his sneakers. “I have a few dreams that come back often,” he says without looking up. “One’s of me, but like, old as shit. Everyone around me has kids, a family, this perfect life, and I just have to stand there and watch them have it all while I remain alone.”
