Nothing is better for releasing some pent-up aggression like a good workout. I walk through the Main Street area, avoiding the glares and scowls from the residents. I guess the news has spread quickly, and nobody is happy to have me here. I’m surprised people aren’t chasing me with torches and pitchforks.
I get to Frankie’s Gym at five thirty in the morning. It’s quiet, like I’m entering a cathedral. The images online don’t do this place justice. It has three floors, and a lower level. The third floor is your standard cardio equipment- treadmills, ellipticals, stair climbers, rowing machines, different types of stationary bicycles, and ski ergs galore. The second floor is an indoor track. The first floor is all free weights. The walls are lined with mirrors so one can admire themselves.
The lower level has a fucking pool, and I guess an older, dusty weight room that nobody really uses. The locker rooms are like a spa. The showers come equipped with body wash, shampoo and conditioner. There are also saunas in each locker room, as well as a steam room, and a cold room. Okay, maybe Paramount hasoneredeeming aspect. I’d come back here just to workout. Jazz would cream herself if she could see this place.
I decide to do a simple cardio session to warm-up. I may just spend the whole day here. It’s not like I can go anywhere around town. I’m a social pariah, and I promised Ashleigh I’d behave.
“I’m glad to see you’re okay after the other night,” a voice says from beside me.
I pull my earbuds out and sit up on the bike to see who the fuck is talking to me. I staredownat this shrimpy guy with wavy brown hair and a two-day old beard. He looks like a lost puppy.
“Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Just, uh. Didn’t get a chance to ask how you were doing outside of the bar, and now I’m seeing you here. Figured I should say hello.” This guy is a dork-and-a-half. I vaguely remember him from the bar. He’s kinda cute, though, and seems like he means no harm. I mean, I could throw him across the room if I wanted to.
I stay quiet. I’m not quite sure what to say and I can tell he’s about to nervous-ramble some more.
“I never hit anyone before. Well, I don’t know if tackling a guy counts as hitting someone. But something about seeing that guy say those awful things to you. I don’t know. I just…it wasn’t right what he did, or what he was saying about you.”
He’s not the type of guy I go for, normally. He’s short. Like, I’m not even standing, and I’m pretty sure I have half a foot on him. That’snothing new. I’m taller than a lot of guys. But he’s in decent shape. He’s wearing loose-fitting clothes, but he’s got broad shoulders, and trim arms. His nervous chatter is fucking adorable. And he’s the first person to say anything kind to me in two days. I’ll take it.
“Well, thank you for defending my honor,” I say, smiling at him. He blushes like I just thanked him for slaying a dragon. “What’s your name, anyway?” I ask, as I keep pedaling the bike.
“I’m Jon,” he says eagerly, giving me his hand to shake.
“Well, nice to meet you, Jon. I’m Margeaux,” I shake his hand, and there’s a spark of static between our hands, making us both jump.
“Ha, well. I just wanted to introduce myself.Officially. I’m not sure how long you’re in town for?—”
“Haven’t you seen the news, Jon?” I deadpan, ready for him to stop playing dumb.
He licks his lower lip, which shouldn’t turn me on, but it does to a small degree. He has nice lips. They’re a darker pink, against his light olive skin.
“Um. Yea. I guess so. Is Brice Strickland really pressing charges?” he asks.
“Sure is. Looks like I roughed him up pretty good considering I only had him in a headlock,” I say, ready for this Jon-guy to tell me how it’s not ladylike to pick fights in bars with sons of millionaires.
“He’s an asshole. I saw the whole thing. You never punched him. I don’t know if he got one of his friends to mess him up afterwards so he could actually make a case against you, but it’s fucked up,” Jon says, sounding legitimately angry on my behalf.
He’s the first person to believe my side of the story.
“Do you know this Brice guy?” I ask.
“I know of him. His dad has donated money to where I work. Their family is a big deal around here. They probably saw that you’re not from around here, and want to make an example of you, or something.”
I’m blushing. This dude, Jon, is making me blush. Maybe it’s the subtle innocent vibe I get from him, but there is some kind of tension percolating between us.
“Yea. You’re totally right. I’m not from here at all. I’m hoping thiswhole ordeal blows over quickly, and I can forget about this place entirely.”
“Oh. That’s good, I guess.”
An awkward silence brews between us. I’ve stopped pedaling and Jon is trying not to fidget with the drawstring of his athletic shorts. His hands are only drawing my eyes to his crotch. He’s on the shorter side, but that doesn’t necessarily mean thateverythingis short, right? Fuck, why is my mind automatically thinking aboutthat?
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your workout. Nice meeting you, Margeaux.” He gives me the sweetest smile, that makes dimples on each of his cheeks pop.
He’s really cute.I’d destroy him. But maybe he’d be into that…
“Really nice meeting you, too,Jon,” I say his name with a slight flintiness in my voice, and his cheeks get so red.
We shake hands again. And we get another zap from an electric shock, making us both look down at our feet.
