I nod. “Yeah.”
She smiles. “Maybe I’ll come check it out.”
I nod. “Yeah. Come on by. Cory would love to introduce himself.”
“Ooh,” she smiles. “Who’s Cory?”
I shake my head at the joke. “He’s thirty years old and single.” She makes a face, so I apologize. “Sorry, it was a bad joke. You don’t want to meet Cory. He will scare you away.”
She agrees. “I don’t want to meet him.”
I chuckle, and the conversation continues to flow throughout dinner. We agreed to post once dinner is done, but after the first dessert.
I get the check, and she’s grateful. We plan to hang out in about two weeks. She tells me she’ll let me know when she’s available for the gym and then go our separate ways.
While I’m in the parking lot, I post the photos and tag her. Right away, she reposts them. I smile because we look good, and we had a nice time catching up.
The next morning, I post a few things after my morning routine and eat enough protein to last me until dinner. I have enough time before ten to hang out on the couch and let the food digest. I scroll instead of tending to homework because a girl needs a break sometimes.
I arrive at the gym five minutes before ten, and to my surprise, Dylan is at the treadmills.
The front desk greets me with, “Go Chargers!”
I side-eye Gavin and squint. “Don’t get me started, Gavin.”
He chuckles when I high-five him. “I don’t like your taste in football teams.”
When I look at Dylan, he’s already watching me. He lifts a hand, so I wave back.
“Get back to work,” I tease Gavin.
I waltz over to Dylan and stop the treadmill he’s on.
He looks at the button I just pressed and says, “You know, you have a horrible habit of doing that.”
“Maybe I’m just controlling,” I counter, raising my eyebrows at him.
He hops off and says, “Where to, boss?”
“It’s Coach,” I point at him, walking around the treadmills.
“Coach,” he corrects himself. “I was thinking about your little friend dilemma and thought you should know there’s going to be a party at Rocky’s house this weekend. It’s a home game, so we’ll all be there.”
“Oh,” I say. “You’re inviting me to a college party?”
He nods, closing his hands together nervously. “I am. Should I not?”
“You can do whatever you want, but I don’t drink.”
He snickers. “This friend situation makes much more sense now. You have a tight rein on your routine. You do know that friendship requires effort and time, right?”
“It hasn’t even been a week, and you’re calling me a bad friend?”
He shrugs. “Just saying that I invited you to get something to eat three times, and you shot me down. Now I’m inviting you to a party, and you have an excuse. It’s a valid point, but no one said you had to drink. Just come.”
I bite my lip, realizing he’s watching the motion. I release my lip and suck in a breath. “Let’s start with squats.”
“After you,” he says.
