I schedule out my Tuesday and Wednesday, but this time on paper. I cannot forget to post on those designated days.
Being an influencer is fun, but it’s busy.
Monday rolls around, and I have a big week ahead of me. I attend the few classes I have in the morning and turn in assignments for my Business Analytics and Digital Marketing classes. Then I’m dancing around my apartment, wishing that I didn’t have to wait until four to work out. I decide to wear my royal blue workout clothes. This one isn’t a sports bra; it’s more of a tank top, which I prefer because it’s modest.
When it’s thirty minutes out, I head to the gym. He said four, but I’ll be there early, getting my ten thousand steps in for the day.
I’m walking on the treadmill, reading the homework for Business Analytics, when the squawking front door catches myattention. I’m anticipating Dylan, but it’s not him. I keep my eyes on the iPad as I walk, checking the time. He’s not late yet, but he’s not early.
Right on time, the door makes the noise, but this time I don’t look up because I’m in the middle of an important paragraph.
The machine next to mine starts up, and a deep voice says, “Hey.”
I finally look up, and Dylan’s next to me already jogging.
“Hi. You made it.”
He nods. “I did.”
I notice his face is a little red, but I don’t ask questions. He drops into a full sprint, and I say, “Should we stretch?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve been up since the shit creek of dawn, running drills.”
I nod. “So, I’m not your only trainer, huh? I have competition?”
He smiles, focusing on his breath.
I shut off his machine, and he glares at me.
“Use your energy for the weights and sprint after. Come on.”
We roam the gym for a moment because the line of treadmills, stationary bikes, and ellipticals are in the way, so as we walk around, Dylan says, “So, not gonna lie, I thought I may have imagined you the other day.”
I scoff. “What?”
He laughs. “So, I got like really shitfaced the night before, and my head was in that hazy in between.”
“You thought you imagined me?” I ask, stopping at the weights. “How did that feel?”
He shrugs. “I feel much better now that I know you’re not imaginary.”
I pinch him, and he flinches.
“I’m real.” And my mind goes back to all those other times I’ve kissed a guy or gone on a date, and they glare at me, askingHow are you real?It’s not flattering after a while. I was hoping things would be different with Dylan. So far, it’s not looking that way. I shove that insecure judgment deep down under. He didn’t say my beauty was the reason he doubted his reality; he'd been drinking the night before.Not everything is about you, Cecily.That’s my mother’s voice in my head now.
I instruct Dylan on what I have planned for today. It’ll be a full-body workout for both of us. His resting time is when I get to work out. And as soon as I explain it to him, we fall into an easy rhythm, which admittedly feels nice. He’s not staring at me like he was when we met. He’s relatively easy-going.
When we’re back at the treadmills, we sprint together. Marina walks through the door and spots us. I wave at her, but she has a look of disgust. Dear lord, I don’t need a frenemy over this. I take it that way because she doesn’t wave back, even as I watch her approach the front counter.
“Incoming,” I warn Dylan, shutting off my treadmill. I clean it and roll off, meeting Marina right behind Dylan.
“Hey,” I say, out of breath.
She looks at Dylan. “Hi, how are you?”
I nod. “Good. Yeah. You?”
She nods. “Good.”
