Page 75 of Dear Roomie
Chapter 29
Morgan
The ceiling fan in Gage’s living room spins above me, its blades creating a hypnotic illusion that pulsates with each rotation.
It’s always on.
The consistent view from my makeshift bed on his couch has been one of my few sources of comfort over the past few weeks. I’m not sure exactly how long it’s been sincesheripped my heart out and tore it into tiny little pieces—the days have all blended together in a monotonous blur of sorrow and self-loathing—but those spinning blades have been my constant companion through it all.
“All right, enough is enough. Get your ass up.” The light flares to life above me, blinding me, as Gage barks out his command.
I scramble to sit up as the dark stars fade from my vision. He stands near the hallway in his Double Teep branded shorts and rash guard, with a gear bag over each shoulder. He studies me from under his heavy brow, the rest of his face locked in a tight expression. The weight of his judgment bears down on me, making the days-old grime and oils that coat my skin and hair feel even heavier, but I haven’t been able to make myself fix it. Outside of dragging myself to class and making sure I don’t fall behind, I haven’t had the motivation to do much of anything except lie here and watch the never-ending spinning.
“You’ve got fifteen minutes, and then you’re coming with me.” He tosses one of the bags to me, but it bounces off my chest and hits the floor.
Gage doesn’t say a word. He just watches me with that same assessing gaze; the weight of his scrutiny is enough to get me moving. The fifteen minutes pass by on autopilot. I shower and change into the gym clothes he provided, and he hovers nearby, making sure I don’t crawl back into my nest of sadness. Satisfied with my newly freshened state, he ushers me out the door and to his car.
The gym’s parking lot is abandoned save for Karis’s bike and Nathan’s car. The absence of others doesn’t seem to faze my new drill sergeant. He grabs both of our bags and continues to corral me up the steps and to the door.
I’ve listened to my friends talk about this place for months, but I’d never made the trip out. They’ve asked me again and again to join them, but I always brushed them off and told them I didn’t have time because of classes. It was a lie, though. I didn’t have time because I wasted every free moment I could muster withher.
The small warehouse space isn’t anything special: a front desk, locker rooms, a wall lined with benches, and three fenced-off areas padded with foam matting in shades of black and green. Chill music plays over the sound system, but it isn’t loud enough to cover Nathan and Karis’s bickering as they fight to take each other down on the center mat.
“Where is everybody else? Isn’t there a class,” I ask him.
“Nah, Coach said we could use the mats for some private training time,” he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
“And to knock some sense into you,” Nathan pipes in.
The momentary distraction is all Karis needs to catch her foot around his ankle and take him to the ground. Within seconds, she has him locked in an arm bar, and Nathan taps with a huff, which draws a gruff chuckle from Gage.
“Still getting your ass kicked, I see,” Gage teases. He drops his bag on the bench and joins the other two on the mat.
“I was going easy on him this time, too,” Karis says with a smirk.
“Oh, please, I don’t think you could go easy on someone if they paid you to,” Nathan says, still lying on the floor.
I watch my friends in their carefree playfulness, and regret bubbles up in my chest. For the first time since I’ve met them, I feel like an outsider to their group, a hanger-on with no real connection, and it’s my own fault. I pushed them to the side in favor of chasing an impossible, selfish desire and shot down every attempt they made to include me along the way. I was such an idiot, and I still am because, as much as I’ve tried, I’m still hung up onher, and I’ve still been pushing them away in favor of my self-pity.
“Hey, Morgan,” Gage shouts over the music, “come warm up. It’s about time you show me what you can do.”
I drop my bag next to his and step onto the mats. Nathan pulls himself off the floor in a fluid motion and drags me into a hug.
“It’s good to see you, man,” he says, releasing me. “Things haven’t been the same without you around the past few weeks.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. Another wave of guilt and regret washes over me, leaving me paralyzed in its wake. My mouth starts to open but snaps shut again. Do I apologize for being a horrible friend, not just these past few weeks, but from the beginning? Do I thank him?
“Less talking, more training,” Gage says, saving me from having to figure it out.
I shoot an appreciative glance in his direction, but his face is locked into a serious mask. This Gage standing in front of me isn’t my friend but my coach, and any trace of friendliness is gone, replaced by the seriousness required to do the job.
“All right, let’s start with a jog to warm up. Karis, you lead.” He turns the music up even louder and switches it to something with more energy.
She follows his command without hesitation, and Nathan and I follow suit. Gage pushes us harder than I’ve been pushed since my coaches back inundergrad. The three weeks I’ve spent sedentary didn’t prepare me for this. I’m already panting for breath by the time our warm-ups end, and I don’t have time to recover them before he instructs me to spar with Karis.
She kicks my butt. She is quick, ruthless, and knows how to make herself heavy. That’s one of the best things about this sport—skill matters more than size, and she has that in spades. It doesn’t help that my focus keeps drifting back to things I’d rather not think about—a certain blond she-devil and the cage she’s keeping my heart in on the other side of town. Karis takes advantage of my distraction, and it’s submission after submission until the timer goes off. My frustration starts to grow, and I’m not given a second to simmer as Nathan takes her place and the timer starts again. This should be easier—he doesn’t have anywhere near the same amount of training that Karis or I have—but the cycle continues, and my frustration only builds each time I’m forced to tap out.
Gage keeps rotating my friends, never giving me a chance to breathe, and never letting me have the reprieve of bag work. Thirty agonizing minutes later, my body aches, my muscles feel like jelly, and I’m too tired to think of anything more than what I’m doing right now. But the pain brings clarity, and at some point along the way, I fall back into my normal rhythm, going sub for sub with Karis and falling into flow rolls with Nathan.
