Chapter 6 Cecily
Cecily
When I get home, I heat my chicken and veggies in the microwave and immediately create a new spreadsheet for the brand I just posted about yesterday.
It’s been twenty-four hours, so I need to track all the views and clicks into a spreadsheet and invoice them for the engagement.
Not every brand deal is tedious like this, but I said yes to this particular company because it aligned with what I enjoy talking about.
“Hey, girl!” she squeals.
“Hey, girl, hey,” I shout back.
She jumps right into work, talking about all things about who’s doing what, who’s working with whom, and how. She asks for advice about scaling the business, so I give her my best advice.
“This is why I love you,” she says as we finish off the appetizer. “Every time we hang out, it’s always no nonsense, no bullshit, straight to the point.”
I shrug. “I don’t gatekeep.”
She smiles, raising her glass. “Cheers to that.”
We both take a sip of our drinks. Mine is sparkling water. Hers is wine.
“Tell me honestly, Ce. Where am I lacking with my content?”
I swallow my drink and contemplate how brutal to be.
As I said before, not everyone is willing to hear the truth or an opinion.
She could label me a bitch after this, and I would lose her as a once-in-a-while friend.
Thankfully, our entrees are brought over to help me stall on my answer.
We jump straight into taking pictures of the food, of each other, and of each other together.
We start eating, and she says, “I can’t believe you’re still going to college. You’re way more successful than I am, and I can support myself just fine.”
I keep eating my food, allowing her the freedom of her own opinion, but sometimes it feels like this influencing thing could be stolen away from me within the drop of a hat.
I’m the girl who’s always on the fence, and I guess she makes a point.
If influencing were my full-time focus, I could probably double my income.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she says. “Are you setting up a tripod at the gym, or is someone taking those videos and pictures of you?”
I blink while finishing my bite. “Oh, yeah. That’s my friend taking those.”
She nods. “A gym friend. Okay, that makes sense. It’s nice in there. It’s a beautiful gym.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She smiles. “Maybe I’ll come check it out.”
I nod. “Yeah. Come on by. Cory would love to introduce himself.”
“Ooh,” she smiles. “Who’s Cory?”
I shake my head at the joke. “He’s thirty years old and single.” She makes a face, so I apologize. “Sorry, it was a bad joke. You don’t want to meet Cory. He will scare you away.”
She agrees. “I don’t want to meet him.”
I chuckle, and the conversation continues to flow throughout dinner. We agreed to post once dinner is done, but after the first dessert.
I get the check, and she’s grateful. We plan to hang out in about two weeks. She tells me she’ll let me know when she’s available for the gym and then go our separate ways.
While I’m in the parking lot, I post the photos and tag her. Right away, she reposts them. I smile because we look good, and we had a nice time catching up.
The next morning, I post a few things after my morning routine and eat enough protein to last me until dinner. I have enough time before ten to hang out on the couch and let the food digest. I scroll instead of tending to homework because a girl needs a break sometimes.
I arrive at the gym five minutes before ten, and to my surprise, Dylan is at the treadmills.
The front desk greets me with, “Go Chargers!”
I side-eye Gavin and squint. “Don’t get me started, Gavin.”
He chuckles when I high-five him. “I don’t like your taste in football teams.”
When I look at Dylan, he’s already watching me. He lifts a hand, so I wave back.
“Get back to work,” I tease Gavin.
I waltz over to Dylan and stop the treadmill he’s on.
He looks at the button I just pressed and says, “You know, you have a horrible habit of doing that.”
“Maybe I’m just controlling,” I counter, raising my eyebrows at him.
He hops off and says, “Where to, boss?”
“It’s Coach,” I point at him, walking around the treadmills.
“Coach,” he corrects himself. “I was thinking about your little friend dilemma and thought you should know there’s going to be a party at Rocky’s house this weekend. It’s a home game, so we’ll all be there.”
“Oh,” I say. “You’re inviting me to a college party?”
He nods, closing his hands together nervously. “I am. Should I not?”
“You can do whatever you want, but I don’t drink.”
He snickers. “This friend situation makes much more sense now. You have a tight rein on your routine. You do know that friendship requires effort and time, right?”
“It hasn’t even been a week, and you’re calling me a bad friend?”
He shrugs. “Just saying that I invited you to get something to eat three times, and you shot me down. Now I’m inviting you to a party, and you have an excuse. It’s a valid point, but no one said you had to drink. Just come.”
I bite my lip, realizing he’s watching the motion. I release my lip and suck in a breath. “Let’s start with squats.”
“After you,” he says.
I start my deadlifts, and he spots me from behind. I do twenty reps instead of ten, and then it’s his turn. I roll my bar out of the way to make room for his.
He pushes the twelve reps, and then it’s my turn.
“Why don’t you drink?” he asks, breathless.
“It’s not healthy.”
“That’s the only reason?”
I nod. “I got all my drinking out during high school.”
He chuckles. “So, you’re past that?”
“For sure.”
He doesn’t bring it up again. Not while we finish the rest of our workout or while we’re on the treadmills.
Marina walks up behind us. “Hey, guys.”
I say, “I was just leaving. See you guys later.”
Dylan glances over his shoulder at me while I leave him and Marina to talk. I head out the squeaky gym door, waving bye to the staff. Then I’m heading to campus for my class at noon.