I have bigger things to concentrate on, though. Our record is up but we need more wins if we’re going to make the championship this year and, seeing as this is probably my last season, I want that. I want it hard.
At the same time, I can’t get this stuff with Harper out of my head. Has she just not been paying attention to my life this entire time we’ve known each other? I want to text her or something and talk to her about this, but I also feel like I need space from her.
Fuck, and that couch… The way she tried to set it up because she wanted to feel me behind her, the way I bend her over and fuck her till we’re both spent. Yeah, that is insanely distracting.
I know what I have to do, work out until I’m too weak to even consider using my dick. I talk to Mike and ask him if he’s free for a workout before going to practice. If he won’t work out with me, at least he’ll yell at me to keep going and spot me on the bench. Then we’ll have practice. I can get out more of this energy there.
Mike doesn’t ask me why I want an extra workout, but he knows me well. I can tell by the way he keeps trying to look everywhere but at my face that he wants to know what’s up.
“I need to get Harper out of my head.”
He frowns. “Did you two break up?”
“No,” I pause, “not yet.”
“What do you mean, ‘not yet’?” He scrunches his face up.
I stop the leg press I’ve been on and sit to rest my feet. My head hangs and I know he’s waiting for a response, but I don’t knowwhat to say. I put my hands up, then slap them on my knees before I look back up at him.
“I don’t know, man. I thought I knew her but maybe I was being blinded by the haze of a great fuck.”
“Oh, come on, Taylor. That’s not fair. We all love Harper. She’s not some crazy fan trying to get a story out of you. What could possibly make you think this?”
“She accused me of cheating on her when I'm away at games with you guys.”
“Fuck, that’s rough.”
“Yeah.”
“So, you’re thinking of breaking up with her?”
“I don’t know.”
“So that’s why you wanted to workout before practice?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, let’s get back to it then. What’s your personal best on deadlifting lately?”
“Around 400.”
“That’s it?”
“Fuck you, Mike.”
“No thanks.” He smirks at me.
“Very funny.”
“I know I am. Now how about we get you up to 450? Think you can handle that?”
“I guess we’re about to find out.”
We spend the next hour doing deadlifts and sprints while chugging Powerade in between sets. Harper is still on my mind but mostly I’m thinking about showing up Mike, whose personal best on deadlift is at least a hundred pounds past mine.
I didn’t think I’d be so out of shape when I’ve been working my core so hard. I have to shake myself out of a memory when I start dreaming about how exactly I’ve been working my core. I keep pushing forward and eventually I hit a goal I didn’t think would happen in this workout.
I hit 475 pounds on the deadlift.
