Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
PERCY
A bead of sweat trickles down my neck, and I glance over at Butch, fully expecting to see a hungry look in his eyes.
He doesn’t disappoint. Heat flutters in my stomach, and I keep running, bumping my speed up another couple of notches.
If I didn’t have the numbers right in front of me on the treadmill display, I’d never believe it.
I’m going twice as fast as I managed to go on my first day, and I’m already over three miles without wishing I was dead.
Although, the thought of that half-marathon is still daunting as hell.
“Maybe the spring is a little too soon to do that half-marathon. There’s probably one I could do next fall instead.
Or I could wait until the following spring, really make sure I’m in shape for it,” I pant, watching the distance tick up, closer and closer to my three-and-a-half-mile goal for this morning.
“Spring is plenty of time.” Butch pushes himself a little faster too.
“It’ll be humiliating to finish last,” I mutter, reaching my goal and slowing to a cooldown walk.
“The only thing that’s humiliating is not trying, Rocky,” AJ chimes in from a few feet away.
“That’s right,” Silas says. “I’ve been doing Strong Man competitions for years, and I can tell you that coming in last never feels as bad as sitting it out.”
Callan snorts a laugh right in the middle of his lat pulls.
“Not to be the odd man out or anything, but losing fucking blows, and my advice is to use that fear of humiliation as motivation to train your ass off for the next five months. Don’t aim to be able to run thirteen point one miles, aim to be able to run twenty miles, so you can be sure you’ll crush your goal. ”
I look over at Butch so he can weigh in, although I have a feeling I already know which camp he’s going to fall into on this one. He slows down to a walk and wipes the sweat off the back of his neck with a towel before shooting me that patented Butch Grin of his.
“I’m not worried about it, Rocky. You’ve been hitting all your goals, and you’re building up your stamina fast. You’ll be ready for the half-marathon in the spring, you just have to trust yourself.
” I’m not even surprised at this point by the way my whole body relaxes from his steady reassurance and his unwavering belief in what I’m capable of.
I nod and eye the set of bars on the far wall near the door to Fender’s boxing studio, the same ones that intimidated me on my first day of training.
“I’m ready to try it today,” I decide, hitting the button to stop my cooldown walk and taking a quick drink from my water bottle.
Butch follows my gaze, and as soon as my meaning clicks, he does a fist pump.
“Hell yeah. You’ve got this, no problem.”
I don’t know about “no problem,” but after all the training we’ve been doing for the last few weeks, it feels a lot more possible than it did when I first walked in here.
Butch hops off his treadmill and we both wipe down the handles and display screens, then make our way towards the pull-up bars of doom.
“It’s so silly. I know it is,” I say quietly so that only Butch will hear me.
“But I can’t get my eighth-grade gym teacher’s voice out of my head telling me that ‘girls don’t have the physiology to do pull-ups.
’ I know that’s not even true, and he was just an old, misogynistic moron, but it still feels like being able to do it is proof I’m really a man or something. God, I know it’s dumb.” I groan.
“I get it.” He puts his hand on the back of my neck as he leads me over to the pull-up bars and gives it a little squeeze of reassurance. “We all have shit that rattles around in our heads like that. But there’s only one surefire way to shut that voice up.”
I look back at him and quirk a half smile. “Do the thing and prove the voice wrong?” I guess.
He winks at me and squeezes the nape of my neck again. “You got it.”
We reach the bar, and I don’t even need any more of Butch’s coaching. I can already hear it all echoing in my ears.
You already know you can do this. You’ve been doing the progressions for weeks now.
Breathe and remember that your body has to obey you.
You’ve got this.
I do have this. At least, I think I do.
I shake out my hands and blow out a slow breath, looking up at the daunting bar.
It’s probably the only thing in this gym, other than the locker room, that’s been taunting me since the moment I walked in.
I have to stand up on my toes to reach the bar and position my hands.
There are boxes I could stand on, but I don’t want to. I want this challenge. I need it.
I’m not sure if everyone at Sweat is watching me right now, or if it just feels like they are, but I close my eyes and block it out, focusing on my breathing and the feeling of the cool metal under my hands.
If I can climb a rockface, I can do this.
If I can run three and a half miles, I can do this.
If I can get naked and vulnerable with Butch, I can do this.
My muscles burn and tremble, but that doesn’t matter. I block that out just like I block out the eyes boring into me and the voice in the back of my head that says I won’t be able to do this. The metal bar brushes my chin, and my eyes pop open.
“Oh my god, I did it,” I gasp, slowly lowering myself and then doing it again. “I’m doing it!”
“Looking good, Rocky.” Butch gives an encouraging clap. “Nice and controlled, tight core, your form is perfect.”
I manage three more for a set of five, then let myself drop after lowering myself for the last time. I stumble a little when my feet hit the floor, but Butch is right there to steady me.
“I did it,” I say again, spinning towards him. He holds up both hands for a high five, and I slap them enthusiastically, then meet him in a chest bump.
“I never doubted you.”
The adrenaline coursing through me has me bouncing on my toes and laughing with relief.
“I always thought people were lying about exercise endorphins, but I get it now. I’m pretty sure I could lift a car right over my head if I wanted to. I could swing through the jungle on vines like Tarzan, or punch a shark.”
He laughs, his eyes sparkling with affection and amusement.
“No sharks around, but I’m sure Fender would be up for some sparring if you really feel the need to hit something.”
Right on cue, Fender appears in the doorway of his boxing studio, sweaty and shirtless from finishing up with his recent class, with a smirk on his lips.
“You rang?”
I shake my head and huff a laugh. “I think I’d rather ride the high from my sense of accomplishment for the rest of the day than ruin it by getting my ass kicked.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
I glance up at the clock and sigh. “I’d better get going so I have time to change in my office before class.”
“You know we have a locker room here, right?” Butch reminds me almost every time, and every time, I shake my head and let out a nervous huff. I’ve tackled one source of lingering dysphoria today, I think that’s plenty.
“I really have to buckle down the rest of this week on school stuff, so I won’t be in for the rest of my sessions. But I’ll see you Friday night, right?” I grab a towel off the rack to wipe my face and the back of my neck, then scoop my bag up to hitch it over my shoulder.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he says.
We both hesitate for just a second. Can I kiss him here at the gym? Has he told anyone we’re dating? Obviously Fender knows, but does anyone else? Would it be unprofessional since this is where he works?
While all of the questions and worries are bouncing around in my head, Butch cups my jaw and gives me a hard, brief kiss. I sway towards him, catching myself with my hands on his chest and smiling against his lips.
“See you Friday,” I murmur, and then I force myself out of my lovestruck daze and haul ass to catch the bus.
BUTCH
I watch him jog down the sidewalk through the large windows until he disappears into the crowd on the street.
“You’re such a tease, making me think I was going to get the chance to show Rocky a few moves,” Fender complains, unwrapping and re-wrapping his knuckles while leaning one shoulder against the doorframe to the boxing gym.
“Are you trying to get me to come spar with you?”
He flashes a smile that’s easy to read, and I chuckle. I have some time before my next training session, so I give him a friendly shove and jerk my chin to let him know to lead the way.
“So, another date on Friday, huh? Do you need me to clear out of the apartment again?”
I wrap my hands while Fender warms up, bouncing from one foot to the other and jabbing at the air.
There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s going to whip my ass like always.
I might have twice the muscle mass he does, but he’s light on his feet and can throw a punch that you don’t see coming until he’s already laid you out with it.
If he’s feeling generous, he might give me some pointers on my form before he spanks me though.
“We’re going out to a bar near campus. I’m not sure where we’re going to end up after that.
” I’m hoping I get to take him home with me after, but I’m not going to ask Fender to get lost for the night when we might end up at Percy’s instead.
Hell, he might see me next to his genius, PhD friends and finally realize he’s slumming it.
Then I really won’t need an empty apartment.
My stomach clenches and Fender stops bouncing to cock his head.
“What was that look about? You already getting bored of Rocky? You turned a twink into a twunk and now you’re over it?”
“Are you trying to get me to take a swing at you right now?” I square off with him in the middle of the mats and roll my shoulders to loosen them up.
Fender just cackles in response and gets back to bouncing on his toes.
“Do I need to goad you?” He puts his hands up, signaling that he’s ready to go. “Because I’m sure I could come up with something crude to say about that firm little ass of his.”
I know he’s just fucking with me, but my hackles go up anyway and a pulsing, possessive feeling that lives in that same primal place in my chest as my inner caveman flares through me.
I haul my arm back and throw the first punch, barely grazing Fender before he bobs out of the way, ducking in the same motion and throwing a jab right at my gut.
I grunt and pull back.
“I really like him,” I confess, winding up my right hook.
“You’re telegraphing too much,” Fender says.
I frown. “With Percy?”
He sputters a laugh, then pulls back his right arm. I put mine up to block, and then he pops me with his left instead.
“Your punches, bro. You’re telegraphing too much.”
“Oh, I thought you were giving me some confusing-ass dating advice.” I huff and try what he showed me. He’s expecting the fake out, obviously, but I definitely see how it would work in a real match.
“I haven’t taken that many blows to the head today. What the fuck do I know about relationships?”
“You write all those dirty stories.” I take a few more swings and manage to finally connect one with his shoulder.
“Dirty, not romantic. Fucking I get, feelings are still a mystery to me,” he says.
I dodge his next swing, and we circle each other, which I’m sure is designed to both distract me and get me to pay attention to my footwork.
“You and Rocky really seem to have something good going though. Don’t fuck it up, alright? ”
“Great advice.” I chuckle.
I don’t want to fuck this up. He’s right, we do have something good going. Something real. At least it feels that way. I just need to show him I can fit in with his smart friends too. If I can manage not to embarrass him Friday, then maybe I’ll be able to hold on to him.
I try the fake out again, and this time Fender isn’t ready for it. He stumbles back and I let out a victory whoop. If I can land a punch on Fender, I can do anything, even impress Percy’s friends… and hopefully Percy too.