Page 56 of Icing Hearts

Vince cusses quietly from behind me and let’s out a deep breath against the crown of my head. “Whatever,” he says. “Let’s, uh, let’s hit the treadmill, Clara.”

He takes my hand, and we head to the row of cardio machines. There are a dozen treadmills and stationary bikes lined up against the wall with a view of the rest of the weight room. Vince shakes off the interaction with Tory within seconds and he’s back to his jovial, exuberant self. His emotional recovery time sets me at ease, but sometimes I wish he would care more. We do a five-minute warm-up and I’m panting like a dog.

After our warm-up, Clover steals me away, and I work out with her and Thomas while the players do their assigned routines. Tory and Vince keep a healthy distance from one another but both of them steal looks toward me. Frequently. I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be looking at, so I let my eyes feast on both. No law against looking and Vince and I are non-exclusive. Why punish my eyes for Tory’s indiscretions?

Clover and Thomas really destroy my glutes. I didn’t know there were so many muscles powering my butt cheeks, and I wish I could go back to the time that I was blissfully ignorant to that fact. Squats. Lunges, Russian deadlifts, Bulgarian split squats, single leg RDL’s—you name it, I did it. But by the end of the workout, I feel stronger and happy I came, even though I’ll be paying for it tomorrow.

The three of us grab a few yoga mats to stretch and watch the players finish up their own exercises. I have a feeling I’m in for some grilling, and I’m not wrong.

“So…looks like you’ve been hiding some things from us, Clara,” Thomas says. He leans forward and uses a resistance band on his left leg, saying he needs to even out the muscle exertion after doing so many single leg exercises on the other side.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lie on my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows. The mat has some divots in it, and I trace them with my finger.

“Spill it,” Clover adds.

“I don’t want to,” I say.

“Come on. I’ve never seen Tory so crazy over someone,” she argues.

“He’s not crazy over me.”

“What’s it like in the land of delusion?” Thomas sasses. He rolls to his back, stretching his legs with the band, one at a time. Each movement is varied to accommodate his prosthetic.

“Shut up, Tommy. Aren’t you only in tenth grade?” I ask, trying to cut him down a notch.

“Don’t deflect. I’m old enough to hear the drama,” he tells me.

“It’s true,” Clover insists. “This kid is a vault.”

Thomas nods. “That’s why all the upperclassmen hang out with me.”

I look between the two of them, clearly outnumbered. My resolve is already weak thanks to Jack’s inquisition, so I don’t hold out long. An old, rickety fan blows loudly, arcing over the room. Every time it reaches us, my tendrils of hair rise like wings on either side of my face.

“Vince and I are casually dating. Tory and I are friends. That’s all there is to know.” I pull all my hair over my head and in front of my face, creating a curtain of privacy.

“Can I practice my braiding?” Thomas asks.

I nod, handing him a large section of hair.

“But…Tory started wearing his glasses for you,” Clover comments.

“And I saw that flower he put on your locker last week,” Thomas adds.

I ask, “How’d you know that was him?”

“I have my ways.” He shrugs. Apparently, his lips are the only ones that are allowed to be sealed in this scenario.

“Well, we aren’t more than friends. Whether either of us want that or not.”

“But if he wanted to be more, you’d do it, right? I mean he’s gorgeous. And I can tell you from experience that he is just as good as he looks.” Clover wags her eyebrows.

“No, I—wait. What do you mean by that?” I ask her.

Thomas answers from beside me. “They used to be friends with benefits.”

“Really?” My head ping-pongs between the two of them in disbelief.

Clover nods. “That boy is the real deal. We hooked up all last year.”

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