Chapter 19
Eris
Anyone can have their eye on you
but wait for the one who has their soul set on you
― Joseph Colombrita
The rage of the music mixed perfectly with the burn in her muscles.
She adjusted her grip on the bar, stuck her arse out and squeezed, lowering into the squat under the weight of her new record.
She loved this—the fight against gravity, the exertion, the rush of adrenaline after every rep… Who would’ve known she’d be a gym rat, one day? Until not long ago, she hadn’t even dreamed of stepping foot in a gym, let alone one as nice as the Steel Cage.
There was something miraculous about working out. It gave her the same deep relief she had found in the heavy lifting she used to do at the warehouse: the physical fatigue devouring the mental one, soothing the anxiety…
She was still thinking about it, the inherent eroticism of having Denny pinned to the window like that, rocking on her thigh, so beautifully needy, so abandoned, so trusting.
Sex was scratching an itch to her, stress relief, a pursuit of her own pleasure and nothing more.
Wanting to give pleasure felt foreign. But Denny’s need had awakened something visceral in her, a new arousal she was still trying to unravel.
It had made her feel, for once, like she could be useful.
Once the set was complete, she eased the bar back into the hooks and began unloading the weights.
A guy in an Arsenal shirt approached, rubbing a damp towel over his face.
The music was loud, so Eris couldn’t hear what he was saying until she looked up and read on his lips: “One-hundred kilos… Not bad.”
Eris kept unloading the weights and setting them back on the rack, but the guy kept going and between a song and the next Eris heard: “Not a girl of many words, are ya?”
“Piss off.” Eris picked up her phone to stop the music and check the time: 9 PM. They might have dinner at a relatively decent time, for once. Just three more weights to put back and she was free to bail.
Arsenal propped an arm up to the squat rack. “Oh, a feisty one, eh?”
“Can you leave me alone?”
“If you give me your number.”
“I’m taken, mate.”
“I don’t mind sharing.”
“Her girlfriend does.”
Arsenal turned: Denny was right behind him, dwarfed by her oversized t-shirt, sweaty and flushed and so unfairly beautiful. She gave the guy a wide smile. “Hello. Would you mind leaving my girl alone? She asked nicely.”
Eris arched her eyebrows at ‘nicely’ but was too fascinated to argue.
The guy stood his ground despite his brazen face slipping. “This is a public place.”
“No, it’s not, but it’s concerning that you think you’re free to harass people in public places.” Denny’s lips turned upward in a sugary patronising grin. “Why don’t you go back to the bench press? Your form could use some improvement.”
Arsenal’s neck turned bright red. Eris snickered behind him. That’s what you get for trying to outwit my woman.
“I’ll take shit from Yoga Barbie when she’s at my level.”
“You want me to stoop?”
“You can bench press your own weight?”
“I can bench press yours, if that’s what you were doing over there.” Denny cast a casual look at the abandoned barbell.
The guy took in her deceptively slender frame with a sneer. “You can press ninety-five kilos?”
“You’re saying that like it’s hard…”
It was an act: it was over two-hundred pounds and Denny hadn’t hit that at the bench press yet. She was close, but not quite there.
“Go ahead then,” the guy taunted. “The bar is still loaded.”
Denny’s cockiness didn’t waver. “Clean up that bench. I won’t lie in your sweat.”
It was evident that Arsenal wasn’t expecting the willowy girl to pick up the dare so lightheartedly and, to be frank, neither was Eris.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she whispered in Denny’s ear.
“Standing up for you as I should.”
Jesus, Gardenia, Eris laughed inwardly, touched and maybe a little flattered, but the concern remained. “You’ve not managed that weight, yet.”
“If he can handle that, so can I.”
Denny was inexplicably confident for someone who was about to tackle a load much heavier than her record.
While Arsenal sanitised the bench, a small crowd gathered, lured by the commotion. It was a public show now: there was no escaping it.
When Denny lay down, Eris almost didn’t have the guts to watch. Malik volunteered to spot her and was ready to catch the bar in case of a failure, but Denny would rather have her windpipe crushed than not come out on top of this predicament.
Everyone was cheering for her. Eris picked at her nails, entranced and a tad piqued by Denny’s stubbornness.
She was startled by Joe’s cavernous voice: “What’s going on here?”
“Denny’s about to do the thing the new guy told her she couldn’t do,” Noah supplied.
“Oh, that poor bastard.”
Denny wiggled into position, flexed and adjusted her fingers multiple times around the bar, then took a deep breath, arched her back, and gave Malik a nod. The cheering got louder.
Malik kept his hands an inch under the bar as Denny slowly lifted it off the rack. The loose sleeves of the t-shirt pooled at her shoulders, revealing the tight bundles of muscles in her arms, the pattern of raised veins running across them.
Arsenal paled all of a sudden.
You haven’t seen her shoulders, Eris gloated. People looked at her and knew right away she was strong, but no one expected that kind of strength from a dainty-looking woman like Denny. It made Arsenal’s dropping jaw even more delightful to witness as Denny carefully lowered the bar to her chest.
“Go, Alabi!” several people shouted. It was getting deafening even through the headphones, but Eris was too tense to be bothered.
The real challenge was just coming: pushing the bar all the way up was twice as hard as easing it down.
Denny’s arms were shaking, but she was doing a great job at maintaining her control.
“C’mon, sis! Almost there!” Malik pumped her up.
A pained grimace transfigured Denny’s features as a cry scratched up her throat and her elbows closed in. Her arms straightened up all at once. The crowd went insane.
“Yes, mate!” Malik carefully guided the bar back into the hooks. “That was bloody amazing!”
Panting, Denny sat up, face red and glistening with perspiration, and cast Arsenal a smug glance. “What was that? You want to apologise to my girl?”
The guy was, if possible, even redder than she was. For a moment it looked like he was about to lash out, but then he took in the bystanders and his mouth closed. He mumbled something to Eris, grabbed his towel and bottle and hastily made a beeline to the locker rooms.
“... and he was never seen again,” said Joe, eyes trained on Denny with fatherly pride. All around her, the people were still clapping and congratulating her.
“You think?” someone asked.
“Mate,” Noah chuckled, “after a blow like that, he’s probably moving countries.”
“I’d move continents.”
When the cluster of people dispersed, Eris pulled her headphones down and went to sit by Denny at the bench. She was dabbing her face with her towel, still catching her breath. Thin blond wisps were glued to her forehead and neck, sticky with sweat. Eris had never seen anything more beautiful.
“That was fucking hot.”
“Yeah?” Denny beamed. “I nearly peed myself.”
Eris smacked a kiss to her jaw. “You beat my record, bitch.”
“I didn’t.” Denny leaned back on her hands with a dejected pant. “Pretty sure I beat mine, though.”
Eris glanced at one end of the bar: the 10 and 15 kg plates were impossible to tell apart, wedged in the middle of the heavier and lighter ones.
“He lied about the load?”
“Yep. But he couldn’t expose me without exposing himself, so...”
“How did you know?”
Denny gave a humble half shrug. “A hunch.”
“It could’ve ended very badly.”
“Lik had my back.”
Eris kissed her shoulder where the wide neckline of the t-shirt had slipped down, leaving it bare and inviting. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Stop, I’m gross,” Denny complained despite her head inclining to indulge the path Eris’ kisses were tracing up to her neck. The salt of the sweat mixed nicely with the natural sweetness of her skin, a perfect match to her caramel complexion.
“You taste good.”
Denny squirmed. A muffled moan scratched up her throat right under Eris’ lips. Eris couldn’t resist taking a small nip that earned her a slap on the leg and a scolding nudge.
“Brat.”
The tip of Eris’ tongue swept over the spot in lieu of an apology, then she pushed to her feet, fetched her stuff, and went back to prod Denny with a foot. “Ten minutes of stretching, c’mon.”
Denny mutinously threw her head back. “Five!”
“Ten.”
“Seven?”
“Nine.”
To prevent any further haggling, Eris walked away. She had barely moved two steps when Denny hopped on her back. She swayed but managed to keep her balance.
A damp cheek pressed against hers. “Eight?”
Eris hooked her arms around Denny’s legs, did a little jump to adjust the grip and free her long braid from under Denny’s body.
“Eight and a half.”
“Deal!”
Eris forbade herself to smile.
* * *
After a quick dinner on the couch in front of Denny’s favourite movie, Denny picked up her novel and Eris just chilled at her side.
All she had, all she cherished, was here, between these four walls. She could’ve gone the rest of her days without ever setting foot out of the door again and she would’ve been happy: just her and Denny and their little life.
She laid her head on Denny’s shoulder and Denny’s arm automatically lifted to wrap around her. Eris laid her head on Denny’s chest, rubbing the taut abs as she settled more comfortably. A warm spark pulsed in her heart as soft lips touched her temple.
She held Denny tighter, trying to hang on to that ripple of happiness as cold rivulets of melancholy dripped into it out of nowhere.