Chapter 4 Cecily
Cecily
Google Calendar is mocking me right now. It wiped out the content I had planned for Tuesday and Wednesday, which were mega big brand deals that matter, so I can’t just fuck off and forget it.
I huff, wishing I hadn’t relied heavily on a digital calendar. I just switched from physical to digital not too long ago, and this is kicking my ass. I sift through emails and write down all that needs to be done again.
Running a business while in college, while maintaining my gym life, is overwhelming to say the least. But it has to be this way, or I can’t afford college. Working from home at a young age is a blessing and a curse. Only the few that do it successfully will understand; the rest call us lucky.
We’re not lucky, bitches!
It’s called sacrifice and working twenty-four hours instead of eight.
This is why I don’t have real friends. Don’t get me wrong, this job brings me plenty of friends.
But they’re friends who want clout, who benefit from being around me, and at the end of every day, I am unable to have an honest conversation.
But is that my fault? Do I have ‘use me’ written across my forehead?
I think about the guy, Dylan, I met at the gym.
I immediately coerced him into being my first personal training client.
Does that mean I have the tendency to be like, Hey, I have this to offer, use me for it, and in trade be my friend?
Shit. I think that’s an honest downfall of my personality.
Then my thoughts go down a big rabbit hole, trying to figure out if I do this with everyone I meet.
Shit, that’s a yes, yes, and another yes.
Hell!
This thing I offered Dylan, it’ll create a routine. He said he’s looking for discipline, and even though I’m already consistent, this will help me get into a groove with work, school, and gym rat life. It’s going to be good. I benefit from this as much as he does, and we’re starting tomorrow.
I schedule out my Tuesday and Wednesday, but this time on paper. I cannot forget to post on those designated days.
Being an influencer is fun, but it’s busy.
Monday rolls around, and I have a big week ahead of me.
I attend the few classes I have in the morning and turn in assignments for my Business Analytics and Digital Marketing classes.
Then I’m dancing around my apartment, wishing that I didn’t have to wait until four to work out.
I decide to wear my royal blue workout clothes.
This one isn’t a sports bra; it’s more of a tank top, which I prefer because it’s modest.
When it’s thirty minutes out, I head to the gym. He said four, but I’ll be there early, getting my ten thousand steps in for the day.
I’m walking on the treadmill, reading the homework for Business Analytics, when the squawking front door catches my attention. I’m anticipating Dylan, but it’s not him. I keep my eyes on the iPad as I walk, checking the time. He’s not late yet, but he’s not early.
Right on time, the door makes the noise, but this time I don’t look up because I’m in the middle of an important paragraph.
The machine next to mine starts up, and a deep voice says, “Hey.”
I finally look up, and Dylan’s next to me already jogging.
“Hi. You made it.”
He nods. “I did.”
I notice his face is a little red, but I don’t ask questions. He drops into a full sprint, and I say, “Should we stretch?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve been up since the shit creek of dawn, running drills.”
I nod. “So, I’m not your only trainer, huh? I have competition?”
He smiles, focusing on his breath.
I shut off his machine, and he glares at me.
“Use your energy for the weights and sprint after. Come on.”
We roam the gym for a moment because the line of treadmills, stationary bikes, and ellipticals are in the way, so as we walk around, Dylan says, “So, not gonna lie, I thought I may have imagined you the other day.”
I scoff. “What?”
He laughs. “So, I got like really shitfaced the night before, and my head was in that hazy in between.”
“You thought you imagined me?” I ask, stopping at the weights. “How did that feel?”
He shrugs. “I feel much better now that I know you’re not imaginary.”
I pinch him, and he flinches.
“I’m real.” And my mind goes back to all those other times I’ve kissed a guy or gone on a date, and they glare at me, asking How are you real?
It’s not flattering after a while. I was hoping things would be different with Dylan.
So far, it’s not looking that way. I shove that insecure judgment deep down under.
He didn’t say my beauty was the reason he doubted his reality; he'd been drinking the night before. Not everything is about you, Cecily. That’s my mother’s voice in my head now.
I instruct Dylan on what I have planned for today.
It’ll be a full-body workout for both of us.
His resting time is when I get to work out.
And as soon as I explain it to him, we fall into an easy rhythm, which admittedly feels nice.
He’s not staring at me like he was when we met. He’s relatively easy-going.
When we’re back at the treadmills, we sprint together. Marina walks through the door and spots us. I wave at her, but she has a look of disgust. Dear lord, I don’t need a frenemy over this. I take it that way because she doesn’t wave back, even as I watch her approach the front counter.
“Incoming,” I warn Dylan, shutting off my treadmill. I clean it and roll off, meeting Marina right behind Dylan.
“Hey,” I say, out of breath.
She looks at Dylan. “Hi, how are you?”
I nod. “Good. Yeah. You?”
She nods. “Good.”
“Have a good workout and let me know if you want me to spot you,” I say to her with a friendly smile.
That’s me. Always friendly.
Dylan shuts off his treadmill and turns around. Marina blushes and waves at him, but he’s literally two feet away, so it’s awkward.
“Hi,” he says, and then she’s running off.
“So,” I clap my hands together. “That was great. See you on Wednesday?”
He nods. “Yeah, what time?”
“I was thinking in the morning?” I say it like a question, not sure what his schedule is like.
“Mid-morning sound okay? Say like ten-ish?”
I nod. “Ten is good.”
“Are you hungry?” he asks politely, and a rush of embarrassment floods me.
I shake my head, rejecting any idea that this will go beyond the gym.
“I have food at home. Oh, we should talk about nutrition. Eat your weight plus half your weight in protein, okay?”
“So, I’m bulking.”
I nod. “You’re going to be Cory’s muscle mommy by the time I’m done with you.”
He starts laughing, and it rumbles from deep inside his belly and then comes out forcibly. “You’re setting me up with Cory?” he whispers.
I nod, leaning in. “He is in search of a muscle mommy. He’s a union worker. And get this, he’s barely thirty. He’ll be giving you the male gaze in no time.”
He laughs, stepping back to give me personal space. “This was fun, Cecily. I’ll see you on Wednesday.” He walks off and then turns around and flexes for me.
I crack up, pointing at him. “Go get’em, Dylan.”