I stare down at her one-word text message while I eat the chicken.
Dylan: How are you feeling?
Cecily: Stressed. Overwhelmed.
I take a couple more bites of the food.
Cecily: Oh, you mean that. I’m okay, Dilly. Thank you.
I send her the cow emoji, and then I clean my dish and limp to my bedroom. I lie in bed and stare at my phone for the next hour.
Once the shower frees up and I’m sure there’s finally hot water, I take a quickie and then head back to bed.
The team text thread is blowing up right now with all the shit the team needs to improve. I don’t need any of the negativity or shit right now. Instead, I catch up on some sleep and fall asleep with my bedroom light on.
When I wake up, my ankle is throbbing. I made that promise to Cecily to always show up, so I force myself to get up and get ready.
When I show up at the gym, my eyes search the treadmills, finding our spot but Cecily nowhere in sight.
Cold hands cover my eyes from behind, and I smile.
“Moo,” I say playfully.
“Boo,” she says, releasing me.
She takes one look at me and asks, “Are you okay?”
I lift my ankle. “Check it out. Maybe a sprain. But I’m still here.”
“Shit, you could’ve texted me you need to cancel.”
I shake my head.
“How was your game?” she asks.
I walk with her to the treadmills and say, “We won, but number twenty-nine came out of nowhere and plowed through me. I hit the boards. It was a whole thing.”
“You should go home and rest, Dylan.”
“Nah,” I mutter. “I’ll spot you, then I can go home.”
She looks down at my ankle. “You could relax and read some smut,” she teases.
“Shh,” I joke, looking around.
“Nobody’s here,” she whispers. Her eyes flare.
“Yeah, but…” I pat my chest where my heart is. “It’s my deepest, darkest secret.”
She nods, turning on her machine. For a second, I glance down at her ass in those tight biker shorts, her long legs, and the way she rolls her shoulders back.
“You’ll never guess what,” I say, stepping onto the treadmill next to hers and leaning against the arms.
“Scott finally got his ass handed to him?” she asks.
I laugh, shaking my head. “No, nothing about Scott, unfortunately.”
She points her finger, wagging it around. “Would you want to prank him? We should prank him.”
