Page 17 of True Sight
A phone call is perfect. Thank you for getting back to me so quickly, I appreciate it very much.
I do have to ask though, why are you up so early? Do you normally wake up at this time?
Couldn’t sleep.
Well he’s not a chatty fellow, is he?
I could ask you the same thing though.
I had a class to teach.
At four in the morning?
Three in the morning actually, I just got finished.
Sounds like my worst nightmare.
Oh come on now, my classes are fun. I think you’d like them.
I’d rather let my dog eat my face off than workout.
I can’t help but laugh because after meeting Conrad, I know he isn’t joking. Although, for a guy who admittedly doesn’t workout, I can’t help but notice he’s in great shape.
Well once the studio is open you’ll have to come for a class. At least to watch all your hard work in action
There are a few beats before his texts come through again and I think for a moment he’s fallen asleep until my phone buzzes again.
Yeah, maybe I will. I’m going to try and get a few more hours of sleep in. I’ll call you later about your question and we can talk about it more.
I bite my lip because I have another question I want to ask him but I’m not sure how he’ll take it.
Could we meet sometime next week? For coffee? Make it like a weekly check-in kind of thing where we can do a progress update and I can ask all my questions. I do better in person as you know, so a weekly coffee date might be good.
My thumb hits send before my brain can tell it that calling it a ‘date’ is probably not the best idea. While anyone with eyes—minus my parents—can tell my sexual preferences, I’m not sure about his and don’t want to insinuate anything more than a professional relationship. The last thing I want is to make him uncomfortable and lead him to believe I’m hitting on him.
When I’m not.
Even if I find his grumpiness and floppy blond hair mildly attractive.
Okay maybe the attraction is more than mild.
A weekly meeting is fine. We can talk details later.
Short and direct. A perfectly fine response to my accidental, could-be-perceived-as-me-hitting-on-him text.
I take it as a good sign and smile awkwardly at my phone before tossing it to the floor again. Once I find my will to stand, I drag my tired body from the floor and pack up my stuff. Thankfully, I only have one class to teach today but the rest of my day is still booked with other essential tasks to get the studio up and running. With my bag tossed over my shoulder, I check my watch and note that I have several hours to kill before my 10:00 a.m. interview with a potential fitness instructor and decide I’ll go home, shower, and make myself something to eat. While taking a nap sounds like a delightful idea, I know that if I fall asleep, I won’t wake upagain and will miss my meeting. Tired and feeling a little homesick, I head for the door to walk back to my flat.
“Alright friend,” I whisper to myself as if I’m talking to another person, locking the doors of the studio behind me. “Let’s make today a great day.”
Six hoursand two double-bagged teas later, I’m sitting in my favorite coffee shop around the corner from my place once again, this time with a fit-looking girl sitting across from me with a smile painted on her face.
Alexis, or Alex as she told me she prefers to be called, was one of the first people to apply to work as an instructor for the studio and looking at her now, I can see why. Her arms are well defined under the short-sleeved, crop T-shirt she has on and her pin straight black hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail high on her head. Her resume is adorned with years of personal training, professional dance related gigs, and she has a healthy online following packed full with local people which will be great for business.
“So, Alex, tell me a little bit about your favorite forms of exercise,” I say, even though her resume tells me everything I need to know in that department.
“Well, I’ve been a dancer since I was old enough to walk and then throughout school and college I just tried anything and everything. I attempted to get my degree in exercise science, but,” she hesitates, looking slightly uncomfortable, “college wasn’t really for me. I never finished or got my degree.”
“Oh my god,” I gasp, and bring my hand to my chest. “Neither did I.”
