“When I get home, I’ll check my place.” Nate’s voice sounds hollow. Something I’ve noticed as a trend the last couple of weeks. Actually, it’s probably been that way for the last few months. His usual upbeat tone has shifted.
“How was golf? Did Liam win again?” I’ve abandoned my search for now, I don’t have the time to keep tearing this place apart. I head into my bedroom, pulling the t-shirt off over my head and swapping it out for a bright pink tank top.
“He’s a good golfer. It’s probably time I just accept it. Of course, he’s very humble too.”
I can’t help the laughter that follows that comment. “Oh, of course.”
Nate goes on, telling me a little bit about his day. I catch something about an alligator but I don’t ask him to elaborate. Sitting on my bed, I pull my socks on and lean back in my bed to grab my water bottle that’s on my nightstand. I have a client to meet in fifteen minutes, so I’m tossing everything I’ll need into my gym bag.
Becoming a personal trainer wasn’t on my short list of things I thought I’d do with my life, but after my own personal physical therapy and strength training after an accident, I developed a passion for it. It would be awesome to own a studio one day, but right now, I work at a local gym downtown. I look every now and then for a studio, but so far, I haven’t found anything that’s caught my eye. Plus, everything is so fucking expensive these days. Three thousand dollars a month, plus security deposits, and might as well throw in my first born too. Jesus.
“Any appointments with the guys today?” Nate’s question brings me back to our conversation.
“Graham’s coming in for something quick, I actually need to be there soon, so I have to run.”
“Okay. Hey, check his shoulder, he’s been babying it.” Graham’s on the offense with Nate. He’s one of the linemen, so I get why he wants him healthy.
“I’m not a doctor. You have team trainers for that,” I quip back at him.
“I just want to see if he’ll show you any weakness.”
My eyes roll as I slip on my sneakers. “Oh my God, Nate.”
“Well, he’s my leading blocker!” A hearty laugh comes through the phone with his reply.
“I’ll be sure to report back.” Shaking my head, I grab my keys and gym bag before heading towards the door.
I hear a light sigh on the other end. “That’s my girl.”
“Goodbye, Nathaniel,” I say playfully before locking my apartment door behind me.
“Talk to you later, Mi.”
Just as I’m rounding the corner of Main and Marshall before I get to the gym, a bright red for rent sign in a window catches my eye. This must’ve just gone up because I definitely didn’t see this yesterday and I know I would have remembered. Nothing ever goes up for rent down here, I’ve checked multiple times. Even asked one of the county officials one day. I was not so pleasantly told that I’d likely never see something publicly posted for rent down here.
I curiously glance in the windows before sticking my face up against it. Peeking in the room I can see mirrors lined up on one wall with a long bar running all along the perimeter. This had to have been a ballet studio based on that set up.
There’s a phone number and name listed on the sign so I snap a quick photo of it and continue on my way. What do I want to bet this one isalsoout of my price range? Either way, I can’t not call to find out.
“Push, Turner. Come on!” I shout to Graham as he’s pushing me on top of the sled drill. His exasperated sighs are telling me he’s had enough of the five-foot-two with a whistle telling him what to do.
“Okay, okay. Call it.”
He stands, wiping the pooling sweat from his brow and a satisfied feeling burns in my gut. To answer Nate’s burning question, Graham’s shoulder seems fine—or he’s just really good at hiding pain.
“You belong out on the field with this bullshit. You’d have those guys in tip-top shape, little lady.” Even though Graham doesn’t have a lick of an accent, he still likes to subtly remind us that he’s really a sweet, southern gentleman at his core. I’ve seen him get rowdy, but he’s really just one giant teddy bear. He grew up on a farm and always talks about going back to farm life once he’s done playing football.
I used to wonder if the workouts I had planned for guys like Nate or Graham were even tough enough for them or beneficial enough, but Nate put that to rest when he told me he’d rather run over burning coals barefoot, repeatedly than work out with me. He’s all talk though.
Once Graham and I are all packed up, we head out of the gym and go our separate ways. Now that regular season football is beginning, I won’t be meeting with him again until next off season. During the season they’re on much stricter protocols with their bodies and weight, so I leave that stuff to the professionals.
My phone rings the second I press the button for the crosswalk to head back home. It’s starting to drizzle, and as luckwould have it, I didn’t bring an umbrella. Hopefully it can hold off another ten minutes for me to get back home. Or if it gets bad enough I can always just duck into Nate’s building up ahead and wait it out in the lobby.
“Nathaniel,” I say slowly, dragging out the last few letters as I look both ways once the light changes.
“Done with Graham?” The edge in his voice causes me to stop walking once I reach the sidewalk again.
“Yes, I’m on my way home.”
