“Or maybe you can,” Stella continued cheerfully. “Of course, I’d be pretty pissed off too if I’d let a guy that looked like Dylan Stone slip through my trigger-happy little fingers...”
The blitz attack came to a sudden pause.
“Seriously? Is that what this is?” Lacy whipped around, biting loose the velcro that held together her gloves. “You think I let him slip through my fingers?”
“Your trigger-happy fingers, yeah.” Stella nodded practically, digging a packet of sugar out of her purse and dumping it discreetly into her drink. Technically, you weren’t allowed to sit in the gym without doing anything productive, but as long as she was in the process of nourishing her body, she seemed to think it was allowed. “Not that I’m surprised, you’re always this way when it comes to relationships. Ever since Jeff—”
“Don’t make this about him.” Lacy flashed her a scathing glare and returned to her workout, trying her best to tune out her best friend’s constant chorus of chatter. “It isn’t.”
They’d gotten a shared membership to the local grin about six months ago. Lacy was determined to take some basic self-defense classes, and Stella had decided that there was nothing better to do in preparation for ‘bathing suit season.’ They were lofty goals, to be sure. But in practice, both women took to them a bit differently.
While Lacy had seized upon kickboxing with a fervor, Stella took one look at the treadmill and decided to visit the snack bar instead. One missed workout turned into two, turned into three, and before they knew it—six months had gone by.
Now, both women had a tradition. Lacy would come to the gym and beat the hell out of some mannequin, while Stella would slurp a smoothie by her side. Waxing philosophical on life.
It was a testament to how bad things had gotten, that she abandoned her leisurely position now and came to stand in front of her friend—wrapping her arms casually around the dummy’s armless shoulders, as she leaned down to catch Lacy’s eye.
“Sweetie, I know you don’t want to make this about Jeff. But the fact of the matter is, you haven’t been the same since...since that happened. You need to deal with it and move on.”
Lacy pounded her fists together, bouncing from foot to foot.
“Move—so I can hit it.”
Stella stood her ground.
“Not until we talk about this.”
There was a pause.
“Move—or else I’ll hit you.”
Principles be damned—it turned out Stella could move after all.
“This isn’t going to go away.” She perched lightly on the weight bench next to them, running her fingers along the metal bar. “You really need to deal with it—”
“And how do you suggest I do that, huh?” Lacy ripped off her gloves, throwing them down onto the floor. “What steps do you suggest I take towards recovery? Oh! I know—how about I go home with my new boyfriend only to find a naked fucking girl in his bed! AGAIN!”
The gym fell suddenly silent as her words bounced off the walls, echoing back again and again. Fifty sweaty strangers shot her the same look, then hurried to avert their eyes. Even the mannequins seemed to be dodging her gaze.
“Why does that always happen?” Lacy murmured, as the buzz of conversation slowly picked up again. “Every time we say anything remotely controversial...”
Stella shook her head, surveying the crowd with a critical eye. “I’ve told you before how I think this whole place is wired. Moments like these only strengthen my theory.”
Both women laughed briefly, before Lacy went back to her training and Stella went back to her smoothie. They had been friends long enough that they could speak honestly without any lasting consequence. And they’d tested those limits enough to know when to back off.
But even though that warning light was flashing, Stella pushed the conversation just a little bit further. Lacy Larson had never gotten over her long-term boyfriend’s affair. This had become common knowledge. But it had never been a problem until now.
“What did he say when you left?” she asked quietly.
There was a pause in Lacy’s rhythm, before she smashed her fists into the dummy.
“He said that it was all in his past. That he didn’t want to be with any other woman. That he only wanted to be with me.” Another punch—this one caught the mannequin right in the throat. “Bunch of pandering bullshit, right?”
Stella gave her a look of supreme pity, before slowly shaking her head.
“Yeah...he sounds like a real jerk.”
The incessant pounding stopped, giving the dummy a moment’s reprieve.