Me: Um. Okay?
Evan: Yeah, I’m texting you for my brother. He wants your number, but I told him I wouldn’t give it to him unless you say it’s okay. So, where are you on letting my brother have your number? And I mean Owen, not Quinn, though Quinn has always had a crush on you.
Whoa. Too much info.
First, while the fact that an eighteen-year-old has a crush is flattering, I can’t get over the bigger fact that Owen wants my number.
What for?
To tease me just like Leroy apparently is?
Yeah, no thanks.
I leave Evan on read, and honestly, I don’t have the time to feel bad about it.
Because I’ve already thought about enough crap to make me feel bad for the day.
My day goes from shit to the shitter by the end of my workday.
School was long, and I’d fought for an A on my medical coding test but was one point from it. It bummed me out, but then I got to work, only to find loads of data that needed to be done last week but was overlooked. By me. So, I spent the afternoon doing that, while also dealing with London giving me the cold shoulder since I arrived at work. It was very much one-word answers, and when she needed something, she messaged me, whereas before, she would come and chitchat while I gathered things for her. So, that’s fucking awesome. Then one of our patients relapsed on his sobriety, and now it’s being discussed that he should go to rehab over the summer. We just have to get him through the rest of the season, and I worry for him. Like I worry for them all.
The day was draining and exhausting, so the last thing I want to do is work out, but I force myself to do just that. I’m wearing sweats and sweating like a whore in church as I do overhead presses. It’s hot as hell in here, but it’s good for the burn. When I finish my set, I sit back, gasping for breath and draining some water. There are three guys here, players I don’t know. I don’t know why they always wear the shortest shorts with huge hoodies and hats, but then, I’m jealous since I’m dying here. The guys are working on the chest bench and are the farthest from me, not that I’m truly paying them any mind. They haven’t acknowledged me or even looked my way.
I made sure they weren’t Owen either, because he is the last person I want to see right now. The guy in the middle may be him, but I don’t see the six on the back of his knee. Believe me, I looked. Hard. Because that ass, Jesus. It’s thicker than some girls I’ve seen in here, and then I’m thinking of Owen’s sweet ass. I wonder if he’s mad with how I left last night. Or even because I ignored Evan when he asked for my number. I wonder how his day has gone.
Fuck, I’m hot, and not in a good, sexy way.
I check once more at the guys, and again, I don’t think they even know I’m here. I’m so hot, but…there is no way. Yeah, no. You’re fine, I tell myself. I reach for my weight and realize I’m not okay. Once more, I check, and they’re joking around, doing dude things. I doubt they can even see me with the pole that is in the way. I have to go around it to see them.
They don’t care. Do you, Pax.
I stand up, pushing my sweatshirt up and over my head, leaving me in a crop top bra. My belly only shows a wee bit since my sweatpants are so high, but when the cool air hits my skin, I feel like a brand-new woman. I look at myself in the mirror, and I can see the line of muscle in my shoulders, which makes me smile, but only a little bit. I still hate how full my hips are and the stretch marks that are all over my stomach. My sweatpants hide my pooch, and even I can’t deny that my boobs look really big in this bra.
I mean, I don’t look horrible.
I lift the weights, pressing them above my head and counting to myself, getting lost in the music that plays in the gym. I left my headphones at home, and that almost was the final straw to make me leave, but I pushed through.
I have goals.
When I finish the set, I put the weights at my feet and reach for my phone to make sure I don’t have any notifications. I don’t, but I know Evan’s text is sitting there on read. I doubt he cares that I ignored him, probably figured I didn’t want anything to do with Owen. I wish I didn’t, but that isn’t the case. I want everything to do with Owen, but I refuse to be the main source of his pity. His charity case. I didn’t realize he had this nice streak in him, but since I saw him be so incredible with Evan, I’m finding I was wrong. That’s all his mom, I bet, that compassion and kindness. I don’t know when it decided to surface, but it’s surprising for sure. I’d rather not be on the receiving of something fake.