Chapter 5 Dylan
Dylan
It’s Wednesday at ten, and it’s my second time meeting with Cecily, and I’m not so intimidated anymore. My brain is well aware that we did not imagine her. Nope. This is real life.
She’s currently correcting my form, telling me to fix my posture.
I do as she says and then mutter, “Yell at me to push.”
Her eyes flare, placing her hands on her hips. “I can’t actually yell. It’s gym rules.”
“Well, encourage me. Yell at me. It helps.”
She nods as I push a heavy fucking weight. I’m struggling, but she says, “You can do it, Dylan. Keep going. Focus on the low control movements. Feel the burn, and know it only makes you stronger. This is easy. Push. Harder. Stronger.”
When I’m at the top, I nod. “That’s helping. That’s good.”
I go again, and she spits out the same encouragement but in different words.
When it’s her turn, I encourage her. “Good form. You’re strong. Keep pushing.”
When she’s at the top, she smiles. “This is helpful. You’re so right.”
I wink at her, and she laughs.
While we set up our next exercise, I ask, “What’s your deal, Cecily?”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
I shrug. “Never seen you before.”
“I told you I don’t have friends.”
“But you must have a roommate? Do you live in the dorms?”
She shakes her head, and I try to put the pieces together. “‘You’re not a senior, are you?”
She shakes her head. “I live off campus alone, and I’m a business major. I should clarify, I have friends, just not…” she shrugs, “good ones. I’m still trying to find those people. Do you have friends?”
I nod. “A whole team.”
“A whole team?” she asks.
I nod. “I don’t even get along with most of them, but yeah, they’re my team.”
“You’re an athlete?” she asks, and I nod in response. “Really? You don’t have the whole jock thing. I mean, sure, you’re tall, but…” She tilts her head, and it’s fucking adorable.
“But what?” I ask, curious what she’s thinking.
She sighs. “Am I seriously training an athlete? You could have mentioned that. Now I feel really dumb.”
I shrug. “It’s not dumb. You don’t know me, and I wasn’t wearing my hockey jersey the other day, so don’t get too hard on yourself.”
“You play hockey?” she asks nonchalantly.
I nod. “Yup. Defenseman.”
“I have no idea what that means, but wow.” She stares at me for a moment. “Hockey, huh? Do you love it?”
I nod. “Yeah, it’s my entire life.”
“Is that where you were before this?”
I nod again.
“I need to change how you’re training. This will run you into the ground.”
I shake my head. “Nah, this has been great.”
“So, you can’t do Fridays because of games? That makes so much more sense now. Oh, and that’s why Marina was drooling over you, and why everyone in here couldn’t stop staring at you. It’s all adding up now.”
I nod. “If I were a math equation, I would be as simple as one plus one.”
She laughs, and I consider inviting her to Rocky’s this weekend. I grin, watching her. I can’t bring a girl around without all the guys’ balls deep in questions and accusations, not with a girl that looks like her. I decide not to mention it. I’ll give it a month.
“What next?” I ask, and she spins her finger around.
“Two more sets.”
We fall into a rhythm, encouraging each other through the sets. Hearing her tell me to push harder definitely helps.
After we wipe down the equipment, she asks if I want to walk it off.
I nod, following her over to the treadmills.
Cory intercepts.
I walk past him as he says to her, “So you can train him?”
I pause, turning around.
Cecily doesn’t break a sweat. I don’t know how she can keep her composure so well. I would be losing it if a nasty gym dude who was ten years older was hitting on me.
Cecily says, “You don’t need a trainer, Cory. Look at you. You’re doing just fine. This guy, though?” She steps to the side and walks around him. She’s smooth. Damn. “He doesn’t have the same discipline as you. He needs it.”
I nod, staring at Cory. “Yeah.”
Cory gives me envious eyes and scoffs as he walks off.
I follow Cecily to the treadmills, and we turn them on.
“Is he always bothering you?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “His feathers are ruffled because you’re here.”
I add, “Because why would you want the old rooster if there’s a young cock around?”
She turns her head to me, amusement in her eyes. “Great metaphor. Did you learn that one in the locker room?”
I chuckle. “There’s a lot of metaphors learned in the locker room.”
Her eyes linger on mine for a moment. Then she looks forward and says, “Why did you come to this gym?”
“Honestly?”
Her eyes flick to mine. “No, lie to me.”
“I was avoiding my one-night stand at the campus gym.”
She tilts her head with a smirk. “Why hook up with someone if you’re just going to avoid them after?”
Guess she’s judging me. I shrug. “In my defense, I made my intentions very clear. I’m not looking for a girlfriend.”
“That’s the oldest excuse in the book. Why do guys even say that?”
“Guys tell you that?”
She nods. “Of course, but it’s always after. Once they’ve gotten what they wanted, it’s bullshit, honestly. And it’s funny, you know, because who even said I was looking for a relationship? To even hear that is just annoying.” Her face warps into disgust, but calms again when she looks at me.
“I say it because I mean it.”
“So, you’re willing to give your dick but not your heart?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“And why don’t you want a girlfriend?”
“I’m busy. Busy with college and hockey. It leaves no time for anything else.”
She nods. “Yeah, I get it. I’m focused on my career, classes, and gym life. I have no time for anything else, which reminds me.” She shoves her phone into my hand. “Take a video this time.”
I stop my treadmill and hop off. “What are you? An influencer or something?”
She smiles over her shoulder at me. “Something like that.”
We fall into silence as I film her. I stop recording after twenty seconds. “Here. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“What time?” she asks, stepping off.
“Ten?”
She nods. “Okay.”
I form my hand into a fist and stick it out. She bumps her fist with mine.
“See ya later, alligator,” she says.
I leave the gym, feeling lighter and content. I pull out my phone, and the group is going off with texts.
Scott: I need help with that fucking history class.
Scott: Dylan, where the hell are you?
Westley: He’s at the gym, not looking at his phone.
Rocky: You need help with history? Are you fucking stupid?
Scott: Apparently.
Rocky: It’s all facts. The facts don’t change.
Scott: Okay, if you’re so fucking smart, write this essay for me.
Rocky: I’m not writing shit for you. Read a goddamn textbook. Where the fuck is Dylan?
I get into my truck.
Dylan: Dylan has entered the chat.
Scott: Bro, get your ass home. I need help stat.
Dylan: I’m starving.
Scott: Where the hell is this new gym? Bring me home food too.
Westley: Me too.
Dylan: Fuck off.
My truck is facing the front of the gym, and I watch as Cecily makes her way across the parking lot. Her royal-blue clothes are bright and eye-catching as she walks across the asphalt, her head down, her phone in hand. Guilt gnaws at me, so I start my engine and roll down the window.
“Ce?” I call out.
She smiles, walking over to me. “Hey.”
“Let me buy you lunch.”
She shakes her head. “No, thank you. That’s nice, but––”
“Come on,” I say.
She shakes her head. “I could pretend I don’t meal prep because I feel bad saying no, but I really do have food waiting at home for me. I don’t like to waste food, Dylan.”
“Fine, but tomorrow, you’re letting me buy you food as a thank you.”
She shakes her head. “I meal prep, so tomorrow’s meals are already planned.”
“Okay, here’s the deal. At the end of every week, I owe you a meal as a thank you.”
She points at me. “That reminds me. Take before pictures, so go home right now and take those pictures.”
“I don’t have your number.”
She starts calling out numbers as I stare at her.
“Write it down before you forget.”
I say the numbers back to her, and she smiles. “Are you good with numbers?”
I nod and wink.
She points at me. “Don’t start the winking thing yet. You’re twenty years too early.”
She laughs, walking backwards. “See ya tomorrow. And you don’t owe me anything.”
That makes me feel like shit, so I drive off, wondering how I can show my thanks if she won’t let me buy her food.