“Yes!” the kids cheer.
Lilly raises her hands like an orchestra conductor. “This . . . is the way the cod counts . . .”
And I thought the nightmares of my parents’ deaths were bad, this . . . this might be giving those a run for their money. Every second I’m forced to sit in this minuscule chair, my legs start to cramp up.
Sharp, intense jolts pulse down my thighs, straight to my knees.
I blame the leg day workout with Ottar this morning because fuck, the pain is intense.
“That’s right, the cod counts this way, the cod counts this way . . .”
The pain throbs through my knees, creating a stiffening sensation that builds with every goddamn number the cod counts.
Fuck.
I glance in front of me to see if there is any space for my legs as I mind-numbingly clap my hands to the tune. Five kids all in the way, but directly in front of me, the main culprit of blocking any leg extension is a little girl with bright blonde hair and a huge bow that fills up the top of her head. She’s the key to the release of this unyielding cramping. All I need is a few inches, just a couple, and there are enough inches for her to scoot over.
Maybe if I tap her on the shoulder and ask her to move, she’ll oblige.
“The cod counts, the cod counts, the cod counts.”
The fucking cod is going to be counting in my head until the end of time after this.
I lean forward an inch as the song wraps up, and I’m about to ask the little girl to scootch when Lilly says, “Who wants to hear a story?”
The kids all cheer, causing Bow Girl to move in closer to me. And then to my horror, she looks up at me and offers me a toothy grin right before wrapping her arm around my leg and giving it a squeeze. A squeeze that she doesn’t let up on.
Yup . . . my leg has now turned into her personal stuffy.
Lilly opens the assigned story book and immediately starts entertaining. I’m breathing heavily through my flared nostrils as the pain scorches up my leg to my hip and then back down.
I need some goddamn relief. Maybe Bow Girl won’t mind if I scoot her hug fest an inch or so.
Knowing I won’t be able to sit through this story cramped up like this, I very slowly edge my foot forward.
Wincing, waiting for her to notice, I hold my breath, but when Bow Girl doesn’t notice, I go in for another push just as Lilly makes the kids laugh with some funny voice she uses for a character. The laughter grants me the perfect opportunity to push a touch more without the girl noticing.
Oh sweet fucking hell, that’s better but not by much. Just enough to give me a momentary reprieve before the cramping rears its ugly head and comes back with a vengeance.
The pain is so strong that I’m nearly panting.
The sight I must be right now, breathing out of my goddamn nose like a bull ready to take down a red flag, my knees kissing my ears, and a child wrapped around my leg in a grip so tight, you would think she was using it as her own personal lifesaver.
Fuck.
Shit.
God Almighty.
My teeth clamp down on my inner cheek as the cramps jolt the muscles in my thighs.
Move, make any sort of adjustment, anything to end this pain.
I shift on my seat, moving one butt cheek across the seat, only for the other to hold up my heavy body. I consider spreading my legs even farther, but given the restriction of my pants, and the possibility of showing off a solid definition of my junk to the press and children in front of me, I think better of it.
All I can do is wait and hope for Lilly to read faster.
I glance over at her, my fists clenching, my nails digging into my palms as I try to counteract the pain. I examine the book and notice that she’s barely made a dent in the pages. What is this? A novel?
