“Find me after you eat, okay? I'll get you a cart. I'm Chris, by the way.”
“Sure.” I nodded briskly at him before heading back to get the other four coolers. My arms burned, my palms blistered from the long walk from the water house to the bench.
He waved goodbye as I walked toward my boss, the gallows, and prison all wrapped up in a nice package. My imagination was having a field day comparing Anderson to anything evil. The Hitler of Hydration. The Napoleon of Ice Coolers. I kept my head high, chin out, and stride strong. I was scheduled for my lunch break, and I was starving, but I needed to win the war.
“Follow me.” Anderson turned, leaving me no choice but to follow. I followed, not at all looking at his toned ass in his athletic shorts. He looked normal today. He wore an old college shirt, backwards hat, and black shorts. But, as soon as he spoke,zap. There went the attraction. We went into his office, and he pointed for me to sit in the chair. I refused and crossed my arms over my chest.
“How did it go this morning?” he asked, looking rather bored.
“Fine. I finished everything on the list.” I handed him the clipboard, showing him with a little bit of pride. I’d finished early, and I was damn proud.
“The west equipment room needs cleaning. I bought more supplies. I'll show you how to mix chemicals, so it's not overpowering.” He stood up, grabbing a box behind his desk.
We walked to the west equipment room, and he showed me the mixture and how to clean the machines. We began cleaning the machines against the windows, working in complete silence.
It was about an hour into it when my stomach made the loudest, weirdest whale call.
“Did you eat lunch?”
“No. You brought me here on my lunch,” I said, keeping any emotion out of my voice. Sure, I was freaking cranky and hungry, but the need to prove myself was stronger.
“Speak up if you need to eat,” he barked, throwing his towel on the ground. “Come on, then. Let's go.”
Well, if that didn't sound like the worst invitation ever, then I didn't know what was. I set the towel down in the bucket and followed him out the weight room. Anger poured off him in waves, causing the anxiety bubble in my stomach to grow to massive proportions. Instead of his office, he continued past the office hallway, past the field, and onto the main entrance. “Uh, Mr. Anderson, sir, I brought my lunch. It's in your office.”
“Generally, I take my interns out to eat once a week. Consider this a welcome lunch.” He still hadn't turned around or acknowledged the fact I didn't agree to it. He hopped onto a golf cart and started it. The reminder of the golf cart conversation I had with Chris stopped me. He looked at me, impatience clear as day.
“Is it true that trainers get a golf cart? Even interns?” My voice rose a little too high.
“Where did you hear that?” He raised one eyebrow, not looking the littlest bit guilty. A flash of amusement at my expense crossed his face.
I clenched my fists at my sides. “Chris. He told me to see him at lunch to get my cart. I think I'll do that instead.” I turned, annoyed by the stinging in my eyes. I didn't want to feel picked on. Hated. A nuisance. Everything Asshole Anderson made me feel, pretty much. I didn't know if he cared or bothered to follow me, but I went to his office, grabbed my lunch and phone, and went off to find Chris.
I shoved the peanut butter sandwich in my mouth before chugging my water. I needed to buy some energy drinks to make it through the night. Adrenaline alone kept me going now. I couldn't find Chris anywhere, or Logan, and I accepted defeat. I sighed and texted Gilly and Fritz that I needed whiskey ready for me after this.
What I would give to be able to call my mom and ask for advice. I wanted to prove myself but at what cost? I still was majoring in sports medicine and made enough waitressing to pay rent and for books. But, I had no parents—hadn’t for six years since my mom lost her battle with cancer. My dad left when I was seven. I had no family to ground me or to go to for advice. The weight of everything hit me, and the silence and solitude of the weight room seemed like the right place to escape for a minute.
I was so torn—miserably, uncomfortably, torn. I could walk out. Say screw it. Tell Anderson to screw himself. Or, I could keep going, pretending I didn't want to cry every time I saw him. I sent a quick email to my advisor, pleading to meet with him as soon as possible. I got an automatic reply that he was out of office until school began. Great. Perfect.
I pressed my palms into my eyes, refusing to cry over a grumpy man. Nope. I sniffed, just once. But, it was enough to cover the sounds of shoes because I about screamed when I found Anderson standing over me in the weight room.
“Jesus.” I stood, placing my hand over my heart. “You couldn't give me a heads up or something?”
He stood a foot away, heat pouring off him. His eyes were unreadable, go figure. But, his frown was different. His brows came together, a little dent forming between them. He studied me, unblinking and unnerving.
I closed my eyes, hands in the air. “Look, Anderson, I don't know what I did to piss you off or why you hate me, but I've done everything you've asked since I started. I haven't complained once.”
I spoke to his neck, not his eyes. It was easier. His neck didn't glare at me or narrow in annoyance at me being alive. So, I continued. “I worked really hard to get this internship—and I could tell you about it if you asked—but you don't care. And that's your prerogative. Which is fine, I guess. This is your program. But, I emailed my advisor to transfer teams. So, hopefully I'll be out of your hair soon.”
I dared to look up to his face. He opened and closed his mouth. Twice. But he didn't speak. He swallowed, the movement audible in the quiet of the room. And, I waited. I waited some more, but he still hadn't responded. I closed my eyes, exhaustion and adrenaline leaving me. My shoulders sagged, my sassy attitude leaving the fight.
But then, he spoke.
“I don't hate you.” His voice sounded pained, like it hurt to say it. I just shook my head, giving him a fake smile.
“I’m so glad.” I laughed, even though nothing was humorous. “Look, I'm not looking for anything here. It's not working out. It happens. Life goes on. But, I plan on finishing with you until I get approval to transfer. So, I'm going to finish the list for the afternoon.”
I took the clipboard from his hands without making eye contact and kept cleaning the room. I sanitized the east weight room then the training room. Sure, it was bitch work, but I had a point to prove. He was going to be a dick, and I was going to work harder until I could leave.
