Page 8 of Bewitch

CHAPTER4

The next morning, I’m still stuffed from the bingeing last night, so I debate skipping breakfast but then force myself to eat a banana and pack myself an apple. I should try to always have fruit on hand. Natural sugar. A boost of energy. If I can make a few healthy choices, a few substitutions here and there, I’ll be much better off.

At least, that’s the hope.

My classes all go well enough. I always sit toward the back but not the very last row. I just want to disappear in my classes and not be noticed. I’ve always been that way in school. Never been a teacher’s pet even though I usually get decent enough grades.

I’m a hard enough worker, but I don’t care about being the best or the brightest. I’ve had enough stress as it is. My mom means well. I know she does, but she’s a go-getter. She’s always on the go, always doing this or that. Not only is she on the school board, but she’s also a nurse.

It’s because of her healthcare background that I swear she’s embarrassed about my weight. I hate scales, and there was a period of time in my life when she would make me get on the scale every day. She would even ask if I had moved my bowels prior because that would be my “most accurate weight.” Yes, I know carrying extra weight isn’t healthy, but some of my habits and my relationship with food has to be much unhealthier.

Still, I’m going to correct that. I can, and I will.

Which is why, after my last class, I don’t dive into homework. Instead, I change into my workout clothes, panic, change back into regular clothes and shove my workout gear into a bag. I’ll change at the gym. No one wants to see me in my workout clothes longer than they need to.

Pamela works at the welcome desk, and she gives me a huge smile as I enter the gym. “I’m so glad you’re here! Do you want to make a formal schedule of time with Lucas?”

“Ah, sure. I guess…” I wince inwardly. I should’ve realized that I couldn’t just waltz in here and expect Lucas to be available.

But if he isn’t, then I can just do my own thing, and I glance over at the rows of treadmills, bikes, and ellipticals. That’s my safe haven… if there is such a thing as a safe haven at a gym.

I pull up my class schedule, and Pamela has Lucas’s on the screen. He’s around my age, so I wonder if he’s in college too. He has the same stretches of time blocked off on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, just like he does on Tuesday and Thursday, but that might be for clients instead of classes.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask Pamela about him, to find out if he does go to college. There are several colleges within a fifteen-mile radius of the gym. He might not go to Oak Park University, but he might go somewhere nearby.

Not that it matters. Lucas and I will never be.

“Lucas suggests no more than five days a week,” Pamela says. “That’s standard practice.”

“That’s fine. I can just do active rest days by myself.”

“One day of complete rest might be a better idea—”

“Then one day of complete rest and six days a week.”

Pamela slowly nods. “We can do that. How about…”

I end up signing up for three to four on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and then two to three on Tuesday and Wednesday. Saturday morning at nine. Kinda sucks, but I don’t want to wait until his next available slot, which is noon. It might be a good way to avoid parties and temptations and drinking and all of that. Not that I’m a reckless wild child, but sometimes, we all are willing to do whatever it takes to try to fit in. Alcohol, though, really shouldn’t be something I drink since you tend to drink and eat and your inhibitions lower, and I don’t want to make more wrong decisions.

“It’s just about three now,” Pamela says slowly. “You can see if Lucas is willing to help you today, or you can wait to get started with him full-time tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I say in a rush.

“Terrific. I’m sure he’ll be a great help to you.” She beams at me.

I smile back, wishing I had the same confidence she has. She’s always so happy and cheery all the time.

With a wave, I head over to the ladies’ locker room. I hide in the back and get changed and shove my bag into my locker. I grab my water bottle, blow out a breath, and head on out.

I don’t normally come at this time of day, so I’m a bit surprised to see that every single treadmill has been taken up. I could hop on a bike, and I do just that, but my one knee doesn’t like it. Maybe from all of the lunges and squats yesterday. Great. I don’t want to already be hurt. Lucas will think I’m just being a baby about things and making excuses.

“Done already?” a girl asks.

“Sure, you can have this bike. Let me just quick wipe it down—”

“Oh, no. I’ll wait for a different one.” She wrinkles her nose.

I stare her up and down. She’s cracking gym, her hair is in a perfect ponytail, not a single flyaway strand in sight. Her nails are so perfect that there’s no way she painted them herself. And that stick up her ass?

---