Page 52 of Blitz
An hour later, Fred stretches out on her yoga mat and gives me a pointed look. “Girl, you need to spill.”
“Spill what?”
She looks confused. “Did I say it right? I need details.”
I laugh. “Yeah, you said it right. It’s just that there’s no details to give.”
“I call bullshit. You guys are together now. Why are you being so weird around him?”
“I’m not.”
She rolls her eyes. “Right, this is just the guy you’ve been obsessing over since the day you transferred. You’ve finally got him right where you want him. And now you’re a skittish little kitten around him.”
“It’s just weird. We need to talk and clear the air, and I just don’t have the energy to deal with that right now.”
She nods and relaxes into downward dog. “You should. You’ll feel better.”
“It’ll feel worse in the immediacy. It won’t be fun.” I stretch my sore hamstrings. “But eventually, yeah, it’ll make us stronger. It’s just that I don’t want to do it right now.”
“So instead he’s going to attach to you like a koala.”
“Yeah.” I exhale slowly. “He’s been very… needy the last few days. Like he’s afraid he’ll blink, and I’ll disappear.”
I’m not going anywhere. I want to be with him, I do. But I also value my space. I need some alone time to process everything. Fred is right; I’ve been thinking about him from the minute I got my transfer acceptance. Never in my wildest dreams did I think we’d get here so quickly.
We retreat into silence for a good forty-five minutes, following a workout video we play on Fred’s tablet. It feels good to stretch out. My whole body is tense.
At three forty-five, we pack up and head to the pilates studio next door. It’s half full with other student athletes, people who have nothing better to do with their Sunday afternoon than work out. There are a handful of other guys in the room. Tucker, Barrett, Amir, and Wes are by far the biggest. I’ve never seen Wes without his book. His eyes are a light green, bright and clear.
Tucker is wearing baggy gym shorts and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, highlighting the cut of his shoulders and his muscular arms. His feet are encased in dingy white socks.
“You ready for this, babe?” he asks, grinning over at me.
“Yeah. Totally.” I attempt an enthusiastic thumbs up. It falls flat. His brow furrows. I clear my throat. “Let’s grab rings.”
We set up on yoga mats with our pilates rings and weights. I settle on my back and try to focus on my breathing.
Tucker wants to chat. He sits cross-legged beside me and watches me breathe.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head and turns to the front of the room. “I’m just glad I get to see you.”
My heart melts a little bit. He’s trying.
This is all a me problem. I’m the one itching to pick a fight. It’s just that everything he says triggers some kind of involuntary anger response in me. I want to be with him. I want him to love me. So why am I acting like this? I honestly don’t know. It’s like there’s an itch inside of me that I can’t scratch. I can’t make everything magically be okay.
The instructor begins the class with some light breathing exercises. I can hear Tucker beside me. It’s like there’s a neon highlighter yellow sign pointing right at him. Look at me! Notice me!
I can’t not notice him.
We move on to some light ab work. I chance a glance beside me. Tucker’s keeping up with the class. So is Fred. Amir is cursing under his breath. From what I can tell, Barrett and Wes are doing just fine.
It’s an intense workout, there’s no doubt about that. My abs are on fire as we do leg lift after leg lift after leg lift. We set the ring between our thighs and squeeze and do more leg raises. It doesn’t matter that I’m in the best shape of my life; this is hard.
Tucker is huffing and puffing, but he manages to keep pace with the rest of us. One of the other guys—I think he’s a baseball player—collapses onto his yoga mat with a defeated groan.
My man stretches his hand out towards me. The tips of his fingers brush against mine. I link my pinky around his thick index finger. Tucker gives me a tired smile, breathing hard, as he does a million bicycle crunches.
