"Not many people," is all I say before scanning my finger and pulling open the door.
Brooke stays quiet for a while, the two of us walking side-by-side down the hall toward the gym. When we get there, it's empty like I knew it would be. The team has lifts later today, but I always get one in on my own.
I do some of my best thinking in this space. There are no lights, no performance, no sound other than the thunking of dumbbells or the clink of a barbell landing in its spot on the rack. You can't fake your way through a workout or pretend you're someone you're not under the weight of a bar. In here, it's just me—therealme—and headphones on blast to drown out the silent noise.
"I'm usually the only one here, so make yourself comfortable." Brooke looks around and walks toward a square of mats in the corner of the room. "I usually lift with headphones in, but we can talk if you want," I offer, torn on what I hope she picks.
"Are there speakers? Can you play your music out loud? I won't bother you with conversation, but maybe your angsty shit will tell me something."
We both smile, Brooke at her comment, and me at the idea that she somehow read my mind.
"Yeah," I say. "I can do that." I walk to the system in the corner of the room and connect my Bluetooth to it. "Any requests?"
I turn back to Brooke shaking her head, allowing the strap of her purse to slide down her shoulder. She sets her bag down and crosses her legs, her knee peeking out from the intentional hole in her jeans. "Nope," she says. "This is a day inyourlife."
"Alright then." I hit play on my workout playlist, and Thirty Seconds to Mars comes blasting through the speakers.
My head bobs to the beat as I look at Brooke for her reaction. She's mimicking my motion, scrolling on her phone. I take in the scene—this girl, this song—and am more ready than ever to throw some weight around.
The song plays as I stretch myself out, doing some warm up reps as Brooke continues messing around on her screen. As it fades, I pick up dumbbells to do my first real set of curls, waiting for the next one to begin. My new favorite NF song comes drumming out, the one with lyrics about breaking down, having loud thoughts, and how the spotlight leads to a mask and self-hatred. The one I relate to all too well.
I bang out my next set, getting lost in the rhythm, only realizing Brooke's watching me when the music fades out.
"Well, that was… definitely angsty," she says.
I force a laugh, knowing I relate more to that song than she probably realizes. When the next one comes on, she goes back to her phone, and I move on to my next exercise. Halfway through bent-over rows, I pull my sweatshirt over my head, and toss it by my backpack. Brooke looks up when the fabric slaps against the rubber floor, her gaze bouncing from the bundle of cloth to me.
Before I can overthink it, her head slinks back down, her attention once again on her device. Over the next couple of minutes she takes some pictures of the gym, a few of me in between sets—grabbing water or setting plates on a bar—and types away.
"What are you doing?" I ask, lowering the barbell to the mat.
"Just drafting out some captions for my next couple of posts. I want to get some pictures of the facilities up before your first home game. A little look inside the arena." She turns her phone to me, an image she must have just taken of the dumbbell rack up on the screen. "Plus, I still have to put up the stick-name video from yesterday and figure out what I want to make with everything we do today."
"So, is this what you usually do?" I ask. "For work?"
She shakes her head, putting her phone in her lap. "No, I'm really a waitress and bartender. But I'm trying to find a new job." She playswith a string hanging from the rip in her jeans. "I do think I'm okay at this, though. And I like it. I'm considering trying to find something permanent, actually."
I pick the bar back up and begin curling it toward me.She really is making big changes then."Is that all part of your new plan?" I grunt out between reps.
She tilts her chin down at me. "Yes," she says bluntly.
I nod, finishing out my set and dropping the weights to the floor. "So, what is it? New job, husband, couple of kids?"
She grins to herself, her eyes growing wide. "If my mother had her way."
"She's not happy with your life right now?"
Brooke lets out a cackle, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Not even a little bit."
Walking over to my stuff, I grab my water bottle and take a long sip. "And how about you?" I ask, resting my hand on my hip to catch my breath. "Are you happy with it?"
Brooke looks at me and tilts her head, either caught off guard by my question or unsure of her response. "I used to be," she answers simply.
A silence falls between us for just a second as the current song fades out. "I know the feeling," I say just as the next one begins.
Brooke looks at me in disbelief. "Oh, yeah. I'm sure youhateall of this." She gestures around the gym, both of us knowing what she really means. I lick my lips, considering my response, when the beat from the song begins to pound against the speakers, saving me from spilling my secrets and creating the perfect ending to the conversation.
Before moving on to my next exercise, I tear off my shirt and lay it down with my hoodie. As I make my way back and get down on all fours, I notice Brooke tracking my movement.
