"Meet me in the foyer in fifteen minutes," Mr. Garner's voice comes through too loudly.
I pry open one eye. "Why are you torturing me at seven-thirty in the morning?"
"You owe me for last night. I'm collecting. Get up. Put on some sort of workout clothes, and meet me downstairs. Otherwise, I'll send Ms. Seyer up to retrieve you."
"You're not my favorite person right now," I mutter, hanging up.
I kick the sheets and comforter off and stretch out with a yawn. To make this day even worse, I have two classes, and I'm not working at the country club--which means I don't get to see Grant. I hate today.
Mr. Garner is waiting for me in a pair of baggy, navy basketball shorts and a gray t-shirt that looks like it's been washed fifty too many times.
"Um, are you forgetting something?"
I'm not in the mood for guessing. "What?"
"The rest of your outfit." His neck is flushed and he's having a hard time making eye contact.
I look down at my spandex booty shorts and sports bra. I don't have true workout clothes, because I don't work out. And it's not like I have cleavage hanging out or anything. This sports bra is practically a cropped tank top. "Stop being a prude, Mr. Garner. You demanded I be awake right now. Get over it."
"Let's go," he says with a heavy sigh.
"Where exactly are we going?" I ask when he turns right at the rose trellis--that has a red ribbon tied to it. It's almost indistinguishable among the blooms of the same color.
"We're going to tour the rec center. Figure out a way to keep you from punching people you don't like."
"But how else will they know I don't like them?"
He turns his head and gives me a menacing stare, obviously not appreciating my sarcastic honesty.
We weave through the Court until we reach the building after they guys' dorm. "You know your way around pretty well," I note, considering he's only been here a little over a day.
"After we met I explored the Court all afternoon. Spent most of it lost, but I eventually figured it out ... sort of."
The rec center's entrance is a stone archway with a small pond on one side and a waterfall on the other--oddly tranquil for a gym. But this isn't just any gym, and that's evident as soon as we enter. This building's interior is distinctly different than every other. But I guess it has to be. It houses the same wrap around staircase, but it's made of what looks like glass, instead of stone. And each floor above is lined with a similarly clear half-wall. It's ultra-modern, regardless of the stone walls.
The first thing I'm struck with is the clean, almost floral scent and the sound of trickling water. The entire stone wall next to the Court entrance is slick with water sliding along its surface and dripping into a narrow fountain.
Mr. Garner waits for me to take it all in for a minute before beckoning. "We have someone scheduled to give us a tour."
Behind the French doors that seem to be in every building, is a counter with a couple of women behind it wearing uniforms that reminds me of a hospital or clinic. On the other side of them are closed door labeled: Massage Room 1, Massage Room 2, Chiropractic, and Reiki. Everything is in soothing colors of white and turquoise.
"Good Morning," the woman with almond-shaped eyes and striking cheekbones greets us when we walk in. She has a glow about her, like she was just polished, her tan skin flawless and her smile luminescent. "You must be Lana and Mr. Garner."
"Yes," Mr. Garner replies. "Good morning."
"Your tour guide will be right out to show you around. If you'd like to wait in the recovery room, you're welcome to. It's across the hall."
"Thank you," Mr. Garner replies. We exit and cross the hall where we find a room filled with couches and ethereal music that might put me back to sleep if we stay in here too long. Containers of water with fresh fruit and berries floating in them are displayed on a table across from us.
Mr. Garner must read my confused expression, which is the most obvious of the influx of emotions rushing through my head as I try to make sense of this. It's so completely different than anything I've experienced on campus. Too different. "You have to remember that most of these students are very pampered in their regular lives. Their parents expect some semblance of that to follow them at school."
"Right, because what else would they be paying for?" I reply with a broken laugh.
A minute later, a man walks in wearing a fitted sleeveless sports shirt and just as fitted shorts. He resembles stacks of square blocks made up of body parts with his arms jutting out from his shoulders. It doesn't help that he has a flat-top and square jawline.
"Hi. I'm Mack."
"Seriously?" I laugh. I can't help myself. He couldn't be any more of a muscle-head stereotype if he tried, name included.