3. LARRY
3
LARRY
There were plenty of guys online last night, so I don’t think I’ll be hard up once I’m ready to… get busy, but when I wake up, I’m still a little disappointed the handsome daddy-bear type had vanished on me. We could have had a lot of fun. And he liked my ass which is always a good start.
Even though I ended up having to finish myself off—imagination can be a powerful tool—I had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in months. I don’t think I thought about Wes once, and I wasn’t woken up by the traffic rushing by my bedroom like I was back at Mum and Dad’s house. The top floor apartment is perfect and suddenly this feels like an even better decision.
It’s weird to think this place is even mine. I’m already thinking of painting, of getting plants, maybe even a cat.
There you go, getting ahead of yourself again. One thing at a time. Maybe get secure in your new job first.
With my induction not being until noon I get to actually relax this morning—get my bearings, figure out what I want my days to look like—but not every morning is going to be quite as leisurely as this one.
There’s a nervous sort of energy rushing around my body, like I’m fizzing from my head to my toes. I try to read while I have my breakfast, but can hardly focus on it, my mind flicking to what’s going to happen at my induction, how things are going to go.
I message Rosemary.
Help me, I think I’m dying.
ROSEMARY
Don’t have time for dramatics just now. I’m at work. What do you want?
Nice. I’m having a crisis.
You’ve got five minutes.
What do I do before work? I’m sitting here and I can barely eat, barely do anything. Help!
First of all, you’re going to be fine. Second of all, go outside, explore the town, distract yourself with that for a couple of hours. Go to the gym! There’s a lovely gym in town! Work out your frustrations.
Christ, I can’t remember the last time I went to the gym.
No time like the present! Anyway. Bye. Back to work for me. Good luck. You’ll be fine.
It’s an idea! Certainly not one I’d considered, but what’s the worst that could happen? That I have a nice workout and maybe don’t think about the impending induction of the job I absolutely need to keep otherwise I’m going to have to move back into my parents’ house?
“Gym,” I say out loud, rummaging through my yet to be unpacked box of clothes and grabbing shorts and a gym tee. They don’t fit quite as well as they used to, my small belly pushing at the front of the shirt. “Christ, maybe this is a good idea,” I mumble as I check myself out in the mirror.
I gather the things I’ll need for work into a gym bag, and check the location on my phone before I head out of the house.
I’m inadvertently doing both of the things Rosemary told me to do—wandering around town as I try to find the gym. There are coffee shops, a nice looking bookshop, a small supermarket, a couple of pubs. All sorts. It really is the perfect little town.
The gym is at the other end of town, though only around the corner from Duncan & Howe so my excuses for not going either before or after a day of work will be nonexistent.
This is who I’m going to be from now on. I’m going to be the kind of person who’s so organised I can get up and go to the gym before work. I’m going to get myself back in shape, and then get myself back out onto the market. Wes won’t know what’s hit him.
It’s enough to bring my train of thought to a grinding halt. I can almost hear the screeching of the wheels on the rails.
Wes.
He really won’t know what’s hit him because I haven’t actually heard from him since it all finished. I’ve looked at his Instagram once or twice, I couldn’t really help it. There have been pictures of him and Andrew, which is… fine. If fine means cut-my-heart-out awful.
I don’t think he’s been looking at me, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t even thought about me since the breakup, except maybe when he’s seen something of mine around the old flat and thrown it out.
I shake my head.
Come on. Snap out of it. This is supposed to be the first day of the rest of your life. Stop thinking about Wes and start thinking about… fuck… something else.
I make my way into the gym, a blast of air conditioning practically knocking me off my feet with how cold it is. The man behind the counter is friendly, probably because I walk right up to him and tell him I want a membership. He’s not going to have to work hard to get me to sign up, I want to be here, so if he happens to be working on any kind of commission it’s his lucky day.
In less than fifteen minutes he has me all signed up, and he’s shown me around the gym, told me what all the machines do, and is leaving me to it. In spite of me definitely not being a gym bunny, not by a long stretch, there’s something quite comforting about being here. I feel like I’m doing something, like I’m actively trying to better myself.
And it’s not about Wes. This is about me.
I start with a light run, getting myself warmed up before I go and pretend I know what I’m doing around the free weights. It’s definitely going to take some getting used to being back here, but I’ll make it work.
There’s barely anyone else here—a couple of older women walking next to one another on the treadmill, and a few men dotted around the floor on machines, not acknowledging anyone or anything.
As I’m letting myself take in the scene I notice someone watching me. He’s broad, and he’s got those big round Captain America shoulders that have me swooning. He’s wearing a tank top that hugs his chest in all the right places and lets the tufts of curly brown and grey hair stick out all over the place.
Pink tinges my cheeks, and it’s not from the workout. I try to focus on my running, but even without looking directly at him I know he’s looking at me.
He’s over on a machine working out his barrel chest, breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his face. Okay, so maybe I’m looking at him too, because even though he’s definitely at least ten years older than me, he is handsome as hell. Salt and pepper hair, a well kept beard, and a stare so piercing, so captivating, that I keep looking back at him.
I can feel myself getting turned on at the thought of something happening, the very idea of it sending a thrill of excitement all the way through my body, landing at my crotch. There’s a twitch, a rush of anticipation. I look down. I hope it’s not obvious that I’m currently bulging out of my briefs.
Is he giving me the eye? I can’t tell. I’m rusty. I’m not used to this. I can’t remember the last time I hooked up with someone who wasn’t Wes.
And then I notice the tattoo on his shoulder. It’s so distinctive that it can’t be a coincidence. Who the hell else would have a spiderweb over their shoulder? Maybe it’s a common tattoo worldwide, but surely not in a town like Grovemoor.
I’m about to start feeling offended that he hasn’t recognised me, but then I remember he would only have seen my torso and arse last night, and I’m at the gym fully clothed. Other patrons of the gym, you are very, very welcome.
He’s still looking.
Come on, Larry, you can do this.
I smile at him.
He smiles back, a sort of half smile at the corner of his mouth.
Maybe we’ll be dusting off those cobwebs sooner rather than later.