Those girls who prance around smiling in their cute little leggings with the perfectly cut holes in the thighs with the matching little sports bra, with their perfectly made up faces and perfectly coiffed hair?
“You can’t trust them,” I told Randi as sweat dripped down my face. “They’re not here to work out. I don’t think I’ve seen that one,” I pointed to a brunette with tits the size of cantaloupes, “do a single thing but flirt with that guy by the bench press machine.”
“That guy’s gay,” Randi observed as she sucked back her water in between pants. “I wonder if she knows she’s barking up the wrong tree.”
I placed the weights down, and spun around so I wasn’t facing the mirror, scrutinizing the play-by-play between the two in front of us.
“That woman is under the impression that she can get him anyway,” I surmised as I realized what I was seeing. “That’s Tessie. She’s a bitch and she knows exactly who that man is. I take a class with both of them, and the majority of the time he comes in with his boyfriend, Todd.”
Randi sighed. “Why am I here with you if you take a boot camp in the morning?”
Because I didn’t want to get fat…or fatter.
“You know why,” I told her, spinning around and returning to my set.
Today was arm day.
I was doing three sets of ten on the bench press. Curls, triceps, and butterflies before I walked another two miles around the track outside that circled the building.
“I know, but you’ve already lost a good twenty pounds since the wedding. You look good. I don’t see why you’re trying as hard as you are.”
I didn’t, either.
Only that working out had been the turning point that got me through a lot of lows. Canceling trips to Hawaii were hard when the trips were being utilized at the time.
Then there was the hotel stays and car rentals. Venues and other fun stuff that I had to get my money back on.
So yes, it’d been a trying few months, and working out had been the balm that soothed my soul and kept me from eating when I got frustrated.
Though, I had a lot of appreciation for my trainer, Emily.
She was the bomb and encouraged me to try my hardest even when I didn’t think I had anything left.
“Whoa,” Randi said in surprise. “The best-looking beard I’ve seen on the continent of North America just walked in here. Oh, and look! Your girl just left the gay dude. She’s in hot pursuit.”
I turned, ready to see this beard, and froze.
“That’s Truth,” I murmured softly.
Softly enough that I wouldn’t bring attention to my position.
Maybe if I didn’t move, he wouldn’t notice my bright neon green yoga capris that were likely stained with sweat around my ass.
“I know it’s the truth,” Randi said. “I called it first.”
I rolled my eyes.
Randi and I played a game. It was simple, really. The first one to call the beard—kind of like a game of slug bug—got to punch the other.
I held up my hand when she reared back.
“No,” I stopped her. “That’s Truth,” I hissed. “The man I slept with.”
Her eyes widened, and she threw a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream.
“Oh, my God,” she gasped. “The man that rocked your socks off?”
I nodded my head.
“That’s the one.”
She moved to stand in front of me, and gestured for me to finish my set with a wave of her hand.
I laid down and picked up the bar, thinking about the man who was likely getting the brunette gym bunny’s phone number.
Maybe he’d at least call her back.
I couldn’t say the same consideration had been afforded to me.
He hadn’t responded to any of my calls or messages. In fact, this was the first time I’d seen him in a week. He was a wham, bam, thank you ma’am kind of man, I supposed. Apparently, he just didn’t feel like talking. Whatever the case, I would ignore him.
“Does my hair look terrible,” I breathed through a rep.
Randi looked at my hair, then lied like the good friend she was.
“It looks perfect.”
I snorted.
I could feel the sweat causing my hair to stick to my forehead, and I could see the colored strands of my purple highlights in my peripheral vision every time I moved my head a certain way.
It was apparent that my braid was coming undone whether I wanted it to or not.
And Truth was going to see me.
There was no way around it.
The gym we were in was small, and one of the only ones in the city of Mooresville.
It was either work out here, or at home, and I hadn’t seen any weights in Truth’s small house or workshop.
I should’ve known that he’d be here at some point; especially with the amount of time I spent here.
“You have four more, and then we can go, right?” she asked.
Randi knew all about Truth.
I’d told her all about our first time, and then again seven days ago when it’d happened for the second time.
Randi, of course, had informed me that I needed to drive over to his house.
I, on the other hand, told her that had he wanted me there, he would’ve answered one of my many phone calls or texts.
I nodded my head at my best friend, then pushed myself to finish my last four reps.
By the time I was finished, I had even more sweat all over my face, and I was fairly sure I was about to die.
“Ohhh,” Randi breathed. “Here he comes.”
Then she leaned forward and covered my face by standing with my head underneath her thighs. Inches away from her vagina.
“Uhh,” I said to her vagina. “I don’t think this is necessary.”
She reached between her legs and placed her hand over my mouth. “Shhh, it feels weird when you’re talking to my vagina and not me.”
I started laughing then and pushed her away.
“Go,” I said. “Breathing in your vagina fumes crosses all kinds of boundaries that are best not crossed.”
She smacked me just as Truth stopped what he was doing, which was curling a fifty-pound dumbbell.
The minute he realized that one of the two weirdos was me, he re-racked the weights and turned to face me.
“Where, exactly, have you been?”
My brows rose.
“I’ve been here. Where have you been?”
He tilted his head.
“Working,” he answered again. “But, if I had your number, I would’ve at least tried to call you once I got off of work.”
My brows rose.
“I did call you…and text you,” I said. “Though, I can see how I might’ve forgotten to give you my number.”
“You might’ve forgotten…” he repeated. “And you never told me where you lived. How, exactly did you expect me to get into contact with you?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “How about answering one of the texts I sent.”
“Were you the one who sent those one word texts four times, once each day, over the last few days?” he guessed.
I nodded my head.
“Four times,” he said. “One phone call, and four texts, each of which just said ‘hey.’”
I grimaced.
“Well, that was more than I got from you.”
He snorted.