Chapter 8 Cecily
Cecily
The rest of the week flies by. I had a big project due Friday, and I think I aced it.
I pitched myself to a few previous companies I worked with and a couple of new ones.
Then I find myself at the gym walking my ten thousand steps without having to deal with the weather outside.
I fall into a familiar rhythm with myself, greeting the familiar faces at the gym, the grocery store, and my apartment complex.
My best friend, Alix, lives over an hour away, so it’s rare that we ever hang out.
So, on weekends like these, I fantasize about going to college parties but always chicken out.
The last one I went to reminded me why they’re not my scene.
Drunk kids everywhere. There’s always a horrible smell in the air, and I’m convinced it’s hormones.
Maybe going to a party with Dylan wouldn’t be so bad.
The more I think about it, the more the idea seems fine.
I would set ground rules that I won’t drink, but I could go to make friends and hang out with people my age. The next time he asks, I will say yes.
I settle on my couch, putting on a comfort movie, and scroll endlessly on my phone. I schedule a few things for next week, set goals for the new month, and, for the most part, rot in my pajamas.
By the time Monday rolls around, I’m full of energy and ready to push Dylan’s limits. I arrive thirty minutes early again, excited to watch him break a sweat.
To my surprise, he arrives twenty minutes early. I jump off the treadmill and meet him at the counter.
Gavin greets him and then looks at me. “Hey, Ce. You know you could work here as a personal trainer.”
I smile at him, tapping the counter. “Thank you, Gavin, but I’m so busy. I’ll keep that in mind, though.”
He gives me a longing look, so I shift my attention to Dylan. “Ready to die?”
He chuckles. “That’s not funny.”
“You’re laughing,” I point out.
He shakes his head, still snickering. “Not funny.”
“How was your weekend?” I ask nonchalantly as Cory eyes me.
I acknowledge him. “Hi, Cory. Hope you had a good weekend, sir.”
Cory doesn’t reply.
Dylan says, “My weekend was good. Yours?”
I walk backwards. “Good. Yeah. I didn’t see you here Saturday or Sunday morning, so I thought that might be a good sign.”
He smirks, changing the subject. “What’re you killing me with today?”
We focus on breathwork, and I make him do some Pilates while giggling internally at how much he’s struggling through it. Then I get him on board with not lifting weights. We do body weight exercises until he starts sweating.
“God,” he murmurs. “Do you run a Pilates YouTube channel?”
I laugh. “No. That’s a good idea, though.”
He lies on the ground and winces. “You totally should. Jesus, Cecily. What did you do to me?”
“You can handle it, you big baby.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can handle that ever again. Let’s stick to weights.”
I lay next to him and get into position for my abdominal abomination. He follows, but it doesn’t take long before his entire body starts shaking. I assist him, telling him he is not allowed to give up. By the time we’re done, he falls on his back, breathless.
His shirt rides up, revealing things I shouldn’t know about. He has one of those V-lines that are pure muscle. His hip bone is beneath that muscle. Does that make any sense? There’s some hair, and my throat automatically swallows. He fixes his shirt when he realizes his skin is showing.
“You killed me,” he mutters, sitting up.
“There’s more.”
He throws his head back and groans, “No.”
I laugh. “Just kidding.”
“Are you going to let me buy you dinner tonight?” he glances at the entrance, which is all window. “It’s getting late, and I owe you.”
“Given that you haven’t asked for a picture or an autograph yet because I’m so insta-famous––”
He scoffs, waving me off. “Get out of here, Ce. You’re so full of yourself.”
I smile. “Depends where you want to eat. If it’s Mickie D’s, I’m out.”
He stands, towering over me. “You think that I would thank you with a five-dollar meal? Then you don’t know me at all. I thought we were supposed to be friends?”
Marina walks past and stops when she sees us. “Hey, ya’ll.”
I notice her back straightens when she looks at Dylan.
“Hi, Marina,” I say. “How’re you?”
She nods. “Good.” She eyes both of us awkwardly.
“Good,” I reply.
She looks at Dylan. “Good game this past weekend. You nailed number fifty-four like Play-Doh.”
Dylan nods. “Play-Doh? That’s a first.”
She blushes. “I can’t believe how fast he dropped. It was like he wanted to go down.”
Dylan looks at her with a blank face.
She glances down at the ground. “Anyway, it was a good game. I liked it.” She’s nodding awkwardly now. “Okay. Guess I’ll see you around.”
When she walks away, Dylan turns to me, “I was thinking we could shower and get dressed, then go to––”
I shake my head. “We don’t need to get fancy. Let’s order in at my place and watch a movie or something.”
A grin spreads on his face. “You don’t want to eat at a nice restaurant? That’s the least you deserve.”
I scoff. “Thanks, Dilly. I want to chill. I want my protein shakes and to sit on my couch for a second.”
He nods. “You sure do love your routine.”
“I am a creature of habit.”
We walk to the exit, and he says, “Okay, I’ll follow you to your house and order you whatever you want.”
I smirk. “Be careful what you’re offering there. I could eat an entire cow.”
He looks down at my body and then back up. “I doubt you could eat half of a cow.”
“You’re underestimating me. Just because I’m small doesn’t mean I can’t pack it in.”
His face stills, so I joke, “It’ll probably catch up with me by the time I turn thirty. Does that freak you out, dildo?”
He coughs, laughing. “Okay, when did you turn into one of the boys?”
We reach our vehicles. He parked right next to me this time. “I was raised with five boy cousins. I am definitely one of the boys.”
He looks at me like he’s surprised. I don’t bother to explain that I vibe way better with guys than I do with girls.
He drives behind me closely, and when we get to my apartment complex, I point at the designated parking spots for guests. I park in my spot and wait for him at the bottom of my stairs.
As he’s walking over, I notice the confidence in his step, the amusement in his eyes when he glances around, and the playfulness in his tone as he says, “Nice place.”
“I’m upstairs.” He follows behind me, and I wonder if he’s looking at my ass or if this truly is platonic.
I want friendship more than anything right now.
I don’t need a boyfriend. I don’t need sex.
I want to talk to him about that. I feel like it’s important to make my intentions clear.
And I guess inviting him in is a great start.
I unlock my front door and remove my shoes.
“Welcome to mi casa,” I say as he steps in and removes his shoes. I note that I didn’t even have to ask. Brownie points for him.
“Nice,” he says as I walk into the kitchen. It’s a bit crowded in here with the furniture. It’s a two-bedroom, but the living room and dining room are pretty small.
“Want a protein shake?” I ask, not really giving him an option. I’m making one for him even if he declines.
But he nods. “I would love one.”
I work around the kitchen, adding in frozen fruit, soy milk, and protein powder. The blender fills the silence as Dylan takes a seat at the dining table.
I pour the shake into two cups and hand him one, taking the seat across from him.
“What do you want for dinner?” he asks, looking at his phone. “Sometimes they take forever, so let’s put in the order now.”
“Chow’s Cart,” I say. “I want the orange chicken, white rice, shrimp scampi, and they have the best dumpling soup ever.” I stop talking because of the look on his face. “Shit, sorry. Did you get all of that?”
“Slow down. I’m still on Chow what?”
I repeat myself, but wait for him to find it on the app. It takes him a little bit, and then I connect him to my WiFi.
“Sugar, how’d you get WiFi?” he mocks, but with amusement in his tone. “You’re hilarious.”
“Ready for the password?” I ask, sipping on my shake.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Alligator nuggets. No spaces. Capital A.”
He licks his lips. “You are something else, Cecily.”
Then I give him my address for the order. He orders my food off the menu and reads through it to see what he’s going to order.
He’s done with the shake, so I grab his cup and take it to the sink to wash.
“If you don’t eat all of this––”
“I’ll put my hands behind my back and let you bitch slap me,” I offer.
His mouth opens in disbelief, then closes and opens again. “You really grew up in a house with five boys, huh?”
I smile. “Don’t worry, I used to kick their asses. I’m the oldest.”
“Oh,” he starts laughing. “You were the boss.”
“The coach,” I correct. “And instead of coach to you, could we change my title, actually?”
I finish washing the dishes, so I turn off the water.
“What were you thinking?”
I shrug, drying my hands. “I like your company. You’re chill. I’m chill. I was thinking we could be best friends.”
His eyebrows fly up. “Best friends?”
I nod. “That’s a big label, isn’t it?” I shrug. “It would be nice to have a guy best friend. I haven’t had one since high school, and it’s honestly the best. But I feel like I have to get to know you better if I’m going to go around and call you a best friend.”
He laughs. “Yeah, no kidding. It’s only been a week.” His eyes are searching around, widening.
“Are you okay with that?” I ask, not knowing how to read his tone or body language. I can’t tell if he’s going to run for the hills or not.
“Yeah, I’m down for that. I’m not friends with any women. It’s near impossible today, and I agree. You are chill, and so am I. I enjoy your company too.”
I lighten up a little as I say, “This is completely platonic then.”
I can breathe!
He nods. “Yeah, I’m not looking for anything more.”