Page 25 of Between the Blue
But I tell myself I don’t care enough to question it, purposely not looking in his direction as I take my seat at my machine.
I tell myself I don’t care again when he seems to follow me over to the Smith machines, not looking in my direction once but mirroring my exact same pattern of upright rows and shoulder presses.
I don’t even care when he decides he needs to cross the expanse of the weight room over to the free weights area at the exact same time as me.
Or when he also reaches for ten pound dumbbells right after I grab my own and find a spot on the floor.
Or when he immediately returns the tens for twenty-fives with a condescending glance at the tens and then to my reflection in the mirror before he begins copying my routine once again.
It’s not until I (we) get to bench pressing that I break.
I add a little extra weight than I normally do, partly to simply challenge myself, but also partly because I’m banking on it being able to fully distract me from the looming presence that just took a seat at the bench next to me.
It works, and my first set goes by with only a little straining on my part. This is one of the few times I wish I listened to music when I work out. But I’ve never liked to. At least not during my morning workout. This is usually my time to wake up and clear my head for the day. It’s my meditation time, the most relaxing part of my day.
Or at least it used to be.
What I would give to just have a pair of headphones as a shield from the outside world right now.
Fromhim.
Despite myself, I steal a glance to my right, seeing James finish up his first set of bench presses, reracking his barbell–which is holding quadruple the weight of mine– like it’s as light as a feather.
He sits up and reaches down for the bottom of his t-shirt, lifting the fabric to wipe the sweat from his face. I have to gulp down the knot that settles in my throat as I see the insanely hard plane of his abs come into view. I see his muscles contract as he breathes, sweat trickling down them in the most ridiculously cinematic way, like he’s in some sort of cologne ad.
And, suddenly, I hate him even more than I just did.
It takes me a moment before I realize that I’ve zoned out and that the abs are no longer on display. I blink twice, shifting my gaze upwards just long enough to see James’s narrowed eyes meet mine before my head snaps back forward and I immediately reach for my barbell.
I seem to have a little boost of adrenaline as I start my next set, but it quickly fizzles out halfway through my fourth rep.
I grit my teeth, digging my heels into the ground as I struggle to get the bar up. Once I do, I blow out a heavy breath before I lower my arms again. But it’s only harder this time, and my arms begin to feel like gelatin. I can feel my face reddening as I push with everything I have. I think for a moment that my arms may give out, but I manage to fully raise the bar and let out a sputtering sound of relief as I rack it.
“Maybe find yourself a spotter, Cherry.”
My head automatically turns to the side. I question if the lack of oxygen getting to my brain in my struggle is just making me hear things, but the look on James’s face and his headphones suddenly being around his neck tell me those words definitely came from him.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Is that concern I hear?”
He rolls his eyes. “I’d just rather not be forced to evacuate the gym when you accidentally decapitate yourself.”
I cock my head, squinting my eyes at him. “Are you volunteering then? To spot me?”
“No,” he scoffs.
“Then leave me alone.”
I turn my gaze towards the ceiling again, mentally blocking him out. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as I wrap my hands around the bar above me. Still needing another second before I begin again, I stay in that position for a moment, giving myself a mini pep talk inside my own head.
I can’t let myself struggle after that little comment, and there’s no chance I’m going to give him any satisfaction by removing weight either.
I’m just about to start when the light in front of my eyelids suddenly goes dark. I open my eyes, finding the source of the shadow that’s being cast over me. My mouth just barely opens before James is wrapping his hands around the bar, lifting it off the rack with my hands still attached.
My brows pull together, and I think of questioning him, but he doesn’t give me a chance, suddenly releasing the bar. My elbows immediately buckle, but I quickly recover, pushing against the weight and extending my arms fully to lift it. I’m about to let James have it, but I notice his hands still hovering just below the bar.
He’s spotting me.
He certainly doesn’t look happy about it though.
