Chapter Ten
Adrian
W alking out of the gym’s locker room after my workout, I’m not paying attention as I slip my earbuds back in and click back into the podcast I was listening to. I’ve only recently started to get into them, since I don’t have as much time for TV and need something other than music to break up the silence at times.
Right as I’m about to slide my phone into my pocket, a shorter, lithe body bumps into my side and something clatters on the ground.
“Oh, fuck,” she murmurs, I think. I can’t hear her properly with my earbuds in. I’m still gathering my bearings when she steps back, and I pull out one of the earpieces. “Sorry.” It’s quiet, but this time I recognize the soft, raspy voice before I process the dark, messy bun that’s become familiar over the last few weeks.
“Do you think we’ll ever stop running into each other like this?” I tease. At the sound of my voice, her head snaps up, and she stares at me in surprise. Clearly, she hadn’t put it all together yet either.
“Adrian?” she gasps like I’m an alien, bending down to get her phone and water bottle. “What are you doing here?”
Letting my eyes do a quick once over—hoping I’m discreet but probably not. Knowing she mostly only uses the gym for the pool, I assume she also finished her workout, based on the outfit.
I take in her long, toned legs in the short tennis skirt. Underneath her unzipped ASU hoodie, she’s wearing a cropped tank top that leaves just a sliver of smooth, fair skin along her waist.
Yeah, she definitely has the body of a swimmer.
The only time I’ve seen Blake out of her scrubs was that first night at the grocery store, and truthfully, I didn’t even pay that much attention. I was too focused on the striking gray of her eyes and the soft blush that often makes an appearance.
She looks good in anything, I’d guess, but seeing her like this is different. Better, because it’s just Blake and how she exists in the world. I’ve thought about what she might dress like, and I never really considered skirts. It adds a layer of quiet softness to her overall demeanor, which is similar to her personality.
I can’t help my cheeky grin as I say, “The same as most other people—working out.”
“Oh, right… duh.” She looks away and grimaces at herself. “I just meant I haven’t seen you at this gym.”
Eyeing her, I notice she’s doing that nervous tick where she taps her thumb against each of her fingers. It starts with her index finger to her pinky and repeats.
Over the last month, I’ve only seen her do it a few times. Usually on the days she’s extra quiet and aloof, rather than her normally reserved yet sarcastic personality. So it’s clear those were bad days for her, though I don’t know what the reason behind them was.
I have a feeling this one has to do with the woman Lela and her cat. I haven’t met them yet, but Blake’s seemed down since I overheard her talking to Dr. Miller last week.
I know this client has a special place in Blake’s heart, but from what I’ve seen, she cares a lot. Probably too much, which is why she’s always trying to make it seem like she’s cold and uninterested.
“It depends,” I shrug and slip my hands in the pockets of my sweats. “I like it better than the campus gym, but that’s more convenient sometimes.”
“Makes sense,” she nods still avoiding eye contact, but I don’t miss the sadness subtly etched into her features.
“You were leaving, right?” I ask, a thought suddenly brewing.
“Yeah, I am.” She starts to move around me. I take a step to the side, giving her more room to walk down the hallway, while I fall into sync with her. She gives me a curious glance but doesn’t say anything.
“Do you have plans tonight?”
The question comes out right as she’s taking a drink from her water bottle. She chokes from surprise, sputtering some droplets down her chin and onto her chest. Her awkward nature’s one of the most endearing things about her, especially because it seems heightened when she’s talking to me.
Wiping her face and side-eyeing me, she shakes her head.
“Want to get dinner? There are those food trucks I’ve been wanting to check out.”
“Oh, The Loop. Yeah, the food’s really good.”
“Great, I’ll drive,” I chime in.
“Wait. What? No. I didn’t mean ‘yeah’ like that. Just in like, confirmation of where you were talking about.”
Opening the exit door for her, I ask with faux hurt, “So, you don’t want to have dinner with me?”
“I—what? No—”
I cut her off, playfully clutching my heart and attempting puppy dog eyes for the first time in my life. I wouldn’t consider myself a particularly ‘girl crazy’ person, despite what my mother might say. But since I turned sixteen and started lifting weights, I’ve never had to really try when I liked someone either.
Blake, though? She doesn’t make it easy on me. It’s rare she holds a full conversation with me, and I have to initiate all of them. Sometimes when she sees me, a light blush graces her cheeks, and she will avoid me when possible.
I’ve considered maybe leaving her alone and taking her alleged disinterest at face value, but then I see her watching me over the computer screen or eavesdropping when I’m talking to the clients—specifically the women. And it gives me a new surge of hope.
And this is a prime opportunity.
“I guess I’ll just eat alone… again.”
She scoffs, but her expression falls in either remorse or guilt. I’m not above using it to my advantage at this moment, though it doesn’t make me feel good .
“You’re manipulating me,” she accuses when we stop next to her old black Jetta.
Shrugging, I lean one arm on the hood of her car. “Is it working? I’m hungry.”
Her mouth falls in indignation. I can almost see the word ‘no’ forming on her tongue, but she surprises me. “You’re buying, I assume?”
A big, dopey smile forms, and I probably look like a love-struck fool. I feel like one .
“Of course.”
She nods once and unlocks her car. “I’ll meet you there?”
I wouldn’t mind driving her, so it could feel like a real date. But I can see her fighting her instinct to run for the hills so it’s a small compromise on my part.
Plus, I can save that for our first official date.