Taylor’s fingers nervously wrapped harder around the steering wheel as he pushed back the bad thoughts that were trying to creep back into his mind.
12
The Gym Game
Coach canceled practice for the day because she said she needed a day off, so Fletcher decided to take advantage of the empty gym in the practice facility. He opted to save cardio for later and do some skating sprints.
He did a little five-minute jog on the treadmill just to get his blood pumping. He listened to his classical music in his noise-canceling headphones and got a little carried away when he realized he had been on there for fifteen minutes. He hit the stop button and wiped it down.
Fletcher had been into Pilates recently. Douglas had joked that he was only doing it to make his ass look bigger. Fletcher took pride in having a pretty good-looking ass, so he took it as a compliment if Douglas was saying his butt was getting bigger.
He grabbed a mat and laid it down in the yoga room. It was a decent size and had mirrors that lined three of the four walls. He got about halfway through the workout when he heard the door open and close. He looked up and sawTaylor standing there through the reflection of the mirrors.
“Are you doing yoga?” Taylor asked seriously. He walked over and laid his own mat a respectable distance away from Fletcher’s.
Fletcher had been on all fours, which was kind of a compromising position to be spotted in. He dropped to his knees and turned over so he could sit down on the mat. “Pilates,” he answered Taylor, sounding out of breath. Pilates were surprisingly intense. He stretched his legs out on the mat and held himself up by planting his hands on either side of him.
Fletcher watched as Taylor walked over to the kettle bell rack and picked up a ninety and a one hundred, taking two trips to bring them back to his mat because he needed to hold them with two hands.
“I’m doing a core workout thing. I saw it on Instagram,” he told Fletcher. He picked up his phone and opened the app to show him the saved video.
He and Fletcher attempted it together, but by the end of it they were both dying and out of breath. They sat on opposite ends of their mats facing one another. Fletcher wiped the sweat off his forehead with a rag that was meant to clean equipment.
“What’s with the headband?” Taylor teased, gesturing towards it. It was just a black Nike athletic headband that he used to keep his hair out of his face. His hair was at an awkward length where it was too short to tie back, like Taylor did with his, but long enough to get in his eyes when he was working out.
“Fuck off. I kind of like it.”
For a minute, he and Taylor sat on the mats, chests rising and falling as they both tried to catch their breath. He looked into Taylor’s eyes and Taylor looked into his. They sat like that, smiling at each other and feeling giddy for probably awhole minute before the door opened again. Bolving walked in, wearing headphones around his neck, with a mat and a gallon jug of water. His hair was buzzed, which made Fletcher think he looked more like a swimmer than he did a hockey player. Especially because he was tall and lanky and bore an uncanny resemblance to Michael Phelps.
“Looks like I’m not the only one smart enough to take advantage of an empty gym,” he said with a strong Québécois accent. He set his mat perpendicular to Fletcher and Taylor’s. “Have you guys been here for long?”
Taylor shook his head. “Just came in to do a core workout. Armstrong was in the middle of his Pilates, so I made him do some crunches with me like a man,” he joked. “What’s on your agenda?” he asked Bolving.
“Yoga. But in a manly way. Care to join?”
The three of them were bent down in downward dog. Fletcher made the mistake of looking over to Taylor, who tried to hide his smile. Fletcher looked up to Bolving, and just about lost it when he saw how serious the guy looked. Stoic as hell, but the guy was head down, ass out. Taylor must’ve noticed too because he turned to look at Fletcher again with a growing smile.
Fletcher gave himself a coughing fit as he tried to conceal his laughter. He dropped to his knees again and coughed into his elbow. Taylor dropped to his knees too and patted Fletcher on the back. “You alright there, Armstrong?” He rubbed circles on his back before pulling his hand back and clearing his throat.
“Yeah. I think I’m all yoga’d out for the day.”
“Suit yourself,” Bolving called out as he dropped down into a cobra.
Fletcher rose to his feet and picked up the mat to be wipeddown and put away. Taylor followed him out to the main part of the gym. “You headed out?” he asked Fletcher.
He shook his head. “No, I still need to do some cardio. I was going to do some skating drills at the practice rink.”
“Okay, I’ll join you.”
* * *
They sat side to side on the bench as they leaned down to lace up their skates. Fletcher tried to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine as Taylor’s shoulder brushed his. They stepped out onto the ice and headed out to the center. Fletcher was actually really glad Taylor decided to join him. He could use the motivation to try and keep up with him.
They raced each other as they did laps up and down the ice. Taylor was fast, but Fletcher managed to keep up with him for the most part. Honestly, he was having a blast just skating with Taylor without having to worry about chasing around a puck.
At one point, Fletcher had caught up with him enough to side check him into the boards. Taylor let out a breathless laugh as he quickly recovered. As they were turning the corner, Taylor side checked Fletcher right back. Fletcher slammed into the glass, but he pulled the bottom of Taylor’s shirt and yanked it. Taylor slid into the glass right beside Fletcher.
“Fucker. That was cheap.” Taylor spun and pinned Fletcher up against the glass. Fletcher let out a nervous laugh.
