14. I Work Out
14
I Work Out
Anton
“ W hat do you usually do when you guys get together?” Rose wiggles her eyebrows at my teammates. She looks completely at ease with them.
Watching her with my friends is opening up a pit of longing in my core. For her. For us. For the way we could fit together. Does she feel it too?
“We keep things pretty low-key.” Del shrugs. “We don’t have a ton of free time during the season anyway.”
“Makes sense.” Rose nods.
“Now, don’t sell us short. We know how to have fun.” TJ crosses his arms.
“If by fun you mean talking us into getting tattoos.” Poe rolls his eyes.
“Fun. Adventurous. Meaningful. I’m full of adjectives, big guy.” TJ grins. “Don’t tell me you aren’t happy about that. I’ve seen you eyeing your ink in the mirror, flexing your bicep to make the poetry on the inside of your arm pop.”
“It’s a great poem.” Poe peels his sleeve up, showing off his tattoo for Rose, who leans in to read it.
“‘ The only wisdom we can hope to acquire is the wisdom of humility. Humility is endless .’” She cocks her head to the side. “That’s deep.”
“It’s from T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets .” Poe drops his sleeve back down. “My words to live by.”
“So you all got tattoos together?” Rose shifts and shoots me an unreadable glance .
I hold her gaze, even as my heart rate jacks up. The skin on my back feels otherworldly hot.
She saw it. Of course she saw it.
“Not me,” Del says. “That was before my time.”
“We’ll do it again sometime.” TJ flips his gaze to Rose. “I’m pretty tatted up already and wanted an excuse to get another one, so I made it a whole thing.”
Rose isn’t breaking eye contact, and I can’t look away from her. The conversation the guys are having swirls around us, but it’s muted somehow. All I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears.
Poe shakes his head at TJ. “I can’t believe you got Anton to go along with that one.”
“One of my prouder moments.” TJ puffs up his chest. “Anton’s tattoo is pretty cool.”
I let out a strangled sound, finally tearing my gaze off of Rose.
TJ narrows his eyes at me. “What? It’s—” He breaks off, his jaw coming slightly unhinged as he darts a glance at Rose. “Oh.” He has the wherewithal to look sheepish. “Never mind.”
Rose clears her throat. “We should get started here, right, Anton?”
“Right.” I’m not sure how I’m going to work out, since my body feels like it’s just run a marathon—and not on the treadmill.
The guys say goodbye to Rose and shoot wide eyes at me over her head.
As they walk out, I hear Poe ask Del, “What gives with her and Bates?”
“Not sure.” Del shrugs. “But she’s the reason he plowed his bike into that snow bank.”
The door snaps shut behind him, and I’ve never heard silence as loud as the deafening quiet in the weight room.
I’ve got to say something. Acknowledge the tattoo. It’s the screaming elephant in the room. She’s making a good show of being super interested in the nearby squat racks, but a person can only stare so long at a metal weight contraption. There’s not that much to it.
“So, about the tattoo…” I say.
Rose whips her head toward me, but she’s not quite meeting my gaze.
“It’s—”
“You told me you never wanted a tattoo,” she interrupts me.
I punch out a breath. I remember that. We were lying out on the beach, and she was tracing her finger over the curves and slopes of my back. She started drawing shapes and pictures and having me guess what she was illustrating. We got on the subject of tattoos—if we had any, if we wanted any, where we’d get one. I told her I didn’t know if I’d ever find something I wanted to be permanently tied to.
“I did,” I say slowly.
She bites her lip. “What changed?”
I consider my answer. It doesn’t exactly seem like the time or place to explain that she changed me. She changed everything. She came into my life, and for the first time in my entire existence, I believed I’d found a true partner, someone who had my back—who I could trust. I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to be near her, somehow, someway. Forever. Even now, when I can’t sleep, I close my eyes and imagine the gentle touch of her finger swirling a rose petal pattern against my skin.
So, when TJ took us to the tattoo parlor, it was a no-brainer for me. I wanted a rose.
“I don’t know.” I choose my next words carefully. “I guess there are certain things I want to hold onto. Certain things I want to hold close. Even after they’re gone.”
Her blue eyes glisten, and she nods quickly. “Right. Well, that makes sense. I always knew you had a soft spot for Beauty and the Beast , anyway.”
I arch my eyebrows.
“The rose. It’s a great tribute to the movie. ”
I stare at her. I want to laugh, but I’m afraid she’d punch me, and her fists are surprisingly strong, so I bite my lip. “The movie.” I speak slowly, trying and failing to keep the sarcasm from my voice. “Yeah. Let’s go with that.”
She claps her hands. “So. Working out, right? That’s why you brought me here?”
My mouth goes dry when she unzips her parka. She’s wearing a navy-blue sports bra and high-waisted workout leggings. She toes off her winter boots and digs into her bag for her gym shoes.
My gaze goes immediately to her arms. She’s got the most toned arms of anyone I’ve ever seen, and they are accentuated by the racerback top she’s wearing. Did I intentionally invite Rose to work out with me so I could see her in her athletic gear? No. I’m not that shallow. But I’ll admit it’s a nice perk.
We used to work out together all the time. She’d go toe-to-toe with me in any of my crazy weight-lifting and endurance regimens. It was how we spent a lot of quality time in Mobile. I thought today, if I can get her back to a place of remembering how good we are together, maybe she’ll give me—give us—another chance.
It’s a long shot, but it’s better than no shot at all. I’ve completed my fair share of Hail Marys over the years, so why not try with Rose?
My workout today will mostly be light weights and functional movements. We have a game on Sunday, so I’m not lifting anything crazy, but I need to stay loose and fluid.
I walk over to the squat racks I set up for myself and Rose earlier. I guessed on the weight based on what I remembered her lifting in the past. I motion her over.
She studies her rack before wordlessly swinging the cuff lock off the end of one side and adding a ten-pound disc.
I mimic her and do the same on the other side. Apparently, she’s gone up in weight since we last worked out together .
“Don’t underestimate me,” she says coolly. She centers herself under the bar and flexes her hands.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m doing three sets of ten. You can do whatever is comfortable.”
“Four sets of ten it is.” She adjusts her grip. “Spot me.”
She says it as a demand. My body reacts to her self-confidence. It’s sexy as all get out, and it feels like someone picked me up and dunked me head-first into boiling water. I take a step back, giving her space to do her thing, but I stay close enough in case she needs a hand. Rose has enviable squatting form. Her butt nearly touches her calves as she goes through her set. I’m not trying to look at her butt, I swear. But it’s difficult to miss. She’s strong and graceful, and my own limbs feel a little like rubber, watching her completely own her workout.
I try my best to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Feel free to ask your questions while we work.”
She grunts and finishes her last rep of the set. She follows me over to my bar, and it’s my turn. “I see what you’re doing here…bringing me into your space. This den of masculinity.”
“Den of what now?” I huff.
“You’re trying to rattle me,” she says from where she’s standing behind me. “But I am un-rattle-able. Like a baby toy without the beads inside of it.”
“With a spot-on analogy like that, you’re really making your point there.”
“Thank you. I thought so too,” she says. “Now, tell me about how a prince from Penwick came to be a professional football player in the United States.”
I power through my reps. “Don’t you already know the answer to that?”
“Humor me.”
“Fine. I’ve always loved football. American football. I came to play here for university. It’s a tradition for Penwick royalty to study abroad—broaden our horizons, learn from the outside world, so to speak.” I bucked tradition a bit when I stayed abroad, but no need to go into that. “I had a good college career, and I got some interest from NFL scouts. Since I don’t have to assume full-time duties at the palace until I turn thirty, I took the opportunity to do what I love.”
“What do the Penwickian people think of you being a pro football player?”
I rack the bar and spin around to face her. “You’d have to ask them.”
“Sure, I’ll just call all my contacts in Penwick right up,” she says. We walk back to her bar, and she unracks her weight and starts in on her next set. At the top of one of her reps, she says, “Seriously, Anton, give me something to work with.”
I keep my focus on her back. “The River Foxes have some fans across the pond, yes.”
“What about your mother?” She finishes and faces me.
“You already know the answer to that too.” I cross my arms and stare at her. “I’d rather you didn’t ask me to humor you about this particular subject.”
I go back to my bar and speed through my next set. She stands silently behind me for all ten reps, and I rerack the bar with a satisfying clatter. When I turn around, she’s nibbling her lip.
“I didn’t mean to—” She cuts herself off, as if she’s not certain exactly what she didn’t mean to do. “I’m trying to—”
“Do your job. I know.” I run my hand through my hair, walking past her and waiting for her to set up. I don’t speak again until her back is to me and she’s four reps into her set. “How about this? It’s a challenge to balance the two worlds that I straddle. But I give my all to the project that’s in front of me, whether that’s my home country or my team here. My mother…understands that.”
Rose racks the weight and spins around. She, of all people, should know that my relationship with my mother is a complicated one—one I don’t appreciate dredging up and discussing. Back when we dated, when I thought we were going to be together forever, I told her about how I feel like a puppet. How I can’t say no to my mom, even when I want to, because duty has been so ingrained in me. Rose knows it all, and right now, I hate that I let her in—hate that I let her see me vulnerable. It feels unfair given how everything ended between us.
I turn toward my platform, but Rose catches my arm. I freeze at the soft yet firm contact of her skin against mine. I slowly raise my eyes to hers, waiting for her to pull away. Surely she feels the snap, crackle, and pop at the physical contact. It’s a dangerous thing to feel so combustible. The thin line between love and hate and hurt and help blurs.
She holds firm to my bicep. “It’s not personal, bringing up your mom.” I glance away, but she presses on. “It’s a logical question.”
I flick my gaze back to her. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”
She nods. “That’s fair.”
She releases my arm and steps back. We each finish our squat reps in silence before I lead her over to the exercise balls. I start in on my rollouts, and she does some sort of ab workout. We go through our motions in silence.
I’m lost in thought about my mom. She’s never been warm and fuzzy toward me. I respect her, and I wish she would extend me the same courtesy. She’s always treated me as if I’m a pawn in the game of her life. There have been several moments where I should have been bolder. More confrontational. Stood up to her and made my voice and my desires heard. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t be floundering now to share with her what I really want for my future. I haven’t breathed a word about it to anyone. I don’t know if I can.
Instead of thinking about my mother or the massive decision I need to make, I latch onto something much more pleasant, and that is the way Rose looks with a focused, even expression on her face as she contorts her body into a sequence of bicycle kicks and crunches. I’ve always admired her fluidity of motion. It’s the dancer in her. But there’s something deeper than that too. Her bearing and the grace with which she carries herself—in everything—is just purely her. It’s who she is.
She catches me staring.
I blink, my face immediately flooding with the heat of embarrassment. It really sucks to have feelings for a person and not have them reciprocated. Can we get that out in the open? “Sorry,” I mutter, averting my gaze.
“It’s fine.” She shrugs. In my periphery, I see her move to stand. She crosses her arms and waits on me.
I close my eyes, focusing on my form as I finish out my own reps. When I’m done, Rose is staring at me intently.
I grab for my water bottle. “What’s the hard look for?”
“Nothing.” Rose shakes her head slightly. “I just… I remember her. Your mom,” she adds quietly.