“So you say,” I grumble, adjusting my gym bag as we turn right on University Drive.
“What if I promise to only look while working on my abs?” she asks, feigning innocence.
“What if we skip conditioning today?” I counter.
“No way. Being accountability partners means actually holding each other accountable.” She smirks. “Even when it hurts.”
Especially when it hurts.
She’s right. I can’t afford to skip workouts heading into the season. Once you start, it’s hard to stop. The excuses pile up and the next thing you know, your tricks are sloppy and your arms are trembling, and then you get your ass kicked in a televised meet.
We hoof it to the football building, a flashy stone and glass monstrosity that’s at least three times the size of the gymnastics building. The instant we enter the lobby, I pull up short.
“Holy shit.” I knew the football team had better facilities than the gymnastics team, but damn. The lobby is cool and quiet, but it’s the massive atrium and pristine display cases filled with polished trophies and plaques that draw my eye. Everything about this place screams money from the modern blue and white furniture to the custom Waverly rugs that cover the marble floor. And don’t even get me started on the fancy ass Wildcat banners that hang on the walls. “We really need to get some mega-donors for the gymnastics program.”
“No kidding.” Maddie steps into the atrium and spreads her arms wide, spinning in the shaft of sunlight that streams down from overhead. “I may need to switch sports.”
“Don’t even think about it.” I scan the directory—which, unlike the one in the gymnastics building, isn’t a holdover from the seventies—and nod toward the hall on the right. “Looks like the weight room is this way.”
“Should we leave a trail of breadcrumbs?” Maddie asks, scraping her hair into a ponytail and securing it with a rubber band from her wrist.
“Why bother?” I shrug and start down the hall. “The janitorial crew would sweep them up long before we return.”
Maddie trails behind me, footsteps echoing as she gives a running commentary on all the ways the football building is superior to our own training facilities.
When we reach the double doors marked “Weight Room,” I hesitate, pulse thrumming.
Might as well get it over with.
Stalling will only make it worse.
I throw the doors wide and we’re greeted by a cacophony of familiar sounds: loud music, intense grunts, and clanging metal.
Home sweet hellscape.
“I think I just got pregnant,” Maddie whispers. Whether it’s from the gym and its state-of-the-art equipment or the sight of the football team with their bulging muscles on full display is anyone’s guess.
Soraya waves to us from a large patch of AstroTurf where she and Brooke are warming up, and we make a beeline for our teammates. Brooke straightens as we approach and flicks the end of her ponytail, a brilliant smile pasted on her sun kissed face.
“How great is this?” she asks, her tinny voice carrying over the sounds of the weight room.
“So great,” I deadpan, dropping my bag and throwing myself into my stretching routine. The last thing I need right now is to be drawn into another conversation about douchey ballers.
Hard pass.
“I talked to Coach Collins,” Soraya says, rolling her shoulders. “He said as long as we don’t interfere with the football team’s conditioning, early mornings are fine. They’ll be hitting the field soon anyway, so we should have the place to ourselves.”
I tune out my teammates’ chatter, determined to make this the shortest workout in the history of workouts. As I go through the motions, I scan the weight room, getting the lay of the land. Blue power racks take up most of the space. The racks are lined up in three neat rows that stretch from one end of the room to the other. Each one has a blue and white Wildcat mat below and from what I can tell, all the weights—even the free weights—have the Waverly mascot stamped on them. Cardio machines are on the second level, which is open and overlooks the lower level.
“I’ll bet their machines aren’t constantly breaking down,” Maddie says, catching my eye.
“No way I’m taking that bet.” I fish my earbuds out of my pocket and shove them in my ears before hitting play on my audiobook. I make my way to one of the empty racks and use the chin-up bar for hanging leg lifts.
When I’m done, Maddie takes my place and I can’t help but notice the guys beside us staring as she brings her feet up and taps them against the bar, her ab muscles tightening with each repetition. I try to ignore them and focus on my audiobook, but it’s impossible because they’re loud as fuck.
“What was Coach thinking, agreeing to this?” a big dude with a fauxhawk asks, crossing his arms.
His partner grunts, but says nothing as he does another squat.
