Chapter 9
LOGAN
Caffeine is a drug that everyone seems to be addicted to. It’s like a magic potion that makes you happy, focused, and full of energy at the same time. It’s no wonder that the Montgomery student body almost always has a cup of coffee, a matcha, or a chai latte in their hands at all times.
Itake a sip of water as I increase the speed of my legs on the stationary bike.
A bead of sweat drips down my forehead and lands on the pages of The Goldberg.
I grunt and try to wipe it away with my hand, but that only smears it.
I let out a tired breath and brace my hands on the handles.
I’ve been biking for about half an hour, and the only things keeping me going are my music, the latest issue of The Goldberg, and my physical therapist’s encouragement to use a stationary bike.
Stationary bikes are low-impact and help with knee mobility. Even though I’d rather walk or run, this is the best I can do for myself right now.
There’s something about this person’s writing that I can’t get out of my head. I mostly read the sports section of the paper, which Callum’s boyfriend, Mason, writes. But lately, I’ve found myself reading the other sections more often.
I take another long chug of water from my bottle and set it back in the holder.
I feel prepared for my history quiz today, but I really need help with my Intro to Journalism paper.
I don’t remember putting this class on my schedule, and I’ve been missing a lot of classes out of laziness.
The first big assignment is due at the end of the week, though, and I need to actually start it.
Otherwise, I’m going to spend the rest of the semester circling the drain, kicking at the surface just to pass.
My legs are screaming at me to stop biking, but I want to keep going. Something about the pain helps me forget about missing the home opener.
I almost increase the resistance, but a rough hand touches my arm, startling me and making me stop.
I pull out an earbud and see my old teammate, Travis, standing beside me. His white tank top has a triangle of sweat spreading from where his chest peeks through.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Travis says, smirking suggestively.
My heart stutters.
I haven’t spoken to Travis since I was on the team. He looks bigger and even more intimidating than he used to. I’ve got some height on him, but his bulk makes mine pale by comparison.
“Hey, Trav. What’s up?” I ask, trying to put on the same masculine, confident voice I used to have around him.
One thing about Travis is that he doesn’t like femininity, especially in his teammates. He was always making comments about us being “fairies” or “pussies,” and those comments only got more frequent after Callum started dating Mason.
“Just wanted to see how you were doing, you know, since you didn’t come to the home opener.”
My mouth goes dry. Honestly, I want to disappear right now.
“I had some stuff I had to do…”
Travis snorts. “Don’t bother. You just don’t care about us like you used to, I guess.”
He says it like it’s some kind of joke, but I know it isn’t. He’s being entirely serious.
“I got hit by a car and had my dreams ripped away from me,” I say with the same seriousness Travis hides behind his “jokes.”
Travis claps a hand on my shoulder. “And now you’ve gone all soft on me, just like I knew you would.
You shouldn’t let your knee stop you from going pro.
Only pussies give up. I’m surprised Callum and Kai haven’t done that yet.
I’m just waiting for them to and make us fumble this year’s championship. ”
I smack his hand off my shoulder. “Don’t fucking talk about my friends like that.”
Travis clucks his tongue like I’m some petulant child acting out.
“Maybe you’re more like them than I thought. Based on what Joel’s saying about you and Mikayla—”
“Fuck off.”
“Just admit it, Logan. Come on, man to man—”
“Logan?”
My heart stutters as Alex approaches with a smile on his face. His black hair sticks to his forehead, and his tank top shows off his lankier build.
“Alex.” I clear my throat. “Hey.”
Travis looks at Alex and frowns.
“Guess I should’ve expected you at the campus gym, huh?” Alex says, smiling at me bashfully.
“Yeah. Just finished some cardio,” I say, awkwardly looking between Travis and Alex, hoping Travis will just fuck off.
Alex glances at Travis, giving him a slightly weirded-out look in response to his obvious disinterest.
“Who’s this?”
Travis whips his head toward me, raising an eyebrow expectantly.
“My old teammate, Travis.”
Travis doesn’t shake Alex’s hand or say anything. He just looks at Alex like he’s gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, and I want to punch him for it.
“Anyway, I’m just gonna head back to my workout. See you around…” Alex says, clearly noticing the tension between the three of us.
He gives us both a tight grin, then flashes me a small smile before squeezing past Travis and me.
I watch him walk away.
I want to run after him and apologize for Travis. I want to work out with him instead of dealing with the bigot standing in front of me.
“Who’s that?” Travis asks.
“No one. Just leave me the hell alone, okay?” I say briskly, taking off my hat and raking a hand through my damp hair.
“Is he your boy toy?”
I grab my issue of The Goldberg and storm off, hoping my limp isn’t obvious.
I say nothing as I stalk away from Travis and head for the changing rooms.
I grunt as I pull my gym bag from my locker and start changing into my post-workout clothes.
I have no problem with Callum and Kai or the people they date. They should date whoever they want. Anyone should, for that matter. Gender shouldn’t matter.
What bothers me is Travis and Joel acting like they know something about me that I don’t. Like they’re using Callum and Kai’s identities as ammunition to bully me for letting my injury keep me from going pro.
I know Joel is trying to get under my skin with Mikayla by starting a rumor like that. Even though I know I’m not into guys the way he thinks I am, I still get irrationally upset about it.
I grunt as I pull my shirt over my head and shrug a long-sleeve shirt over it.
I wish Alex didn’t have to see Travis like that. He didn’t deserve the disrespect.
I leave the changing room and peek through the window at the gym floor.
Alex is lifting dumbbells.
I watch him for a long moment, studying his form and the look of concentration on his face.
I like the way his jawline catches the fluorescent light. The way his single dimple appears as his face tightens with effort on each rep.
The way his throat works as he takes a long gulp of water.
He’s new to lifting, judging by his lanky physique, but I can tell he’s putting everything he has into that workout.
He’s even more intriguing now that I know he lifts weights, too.
How has he not found someone yet? I’m sure half the people in here would ask him out.
And now that I know he lifts, I want to work out with him.
I rip my eyes away, not wanting to risk Travis catching me gawking at Alex, and leave the gym complex. Still, I allow myself one last glance at him re-racking his weights, sweat dripping down his forehead.
I’ll have to ask him about his workout split later.
The idea of helping him build the perfect workout split sends a rush of motivation through me.
Maybe what I’m supposed to be doing is helping other people with their fitness and health. Maybe I can’t be a football player anymore, but I can help coach people to become better athletes or support them on their fitness journeys.
I smile as I walk back to my dorm.
Alex just gave me a new sense of hope.