I picked the latter. He instructed me to meet him at the gym. His schedule showed he had weight training until six and then for the rest of the night he was free. I could barely focus on editing my history paper all afternoon as the clock ticked. My chest tightened when my alarm went off, reminding me I had half an hour to get ready before heading out.
Westbrooke’s athletes had their gym separate from the general student population. Their building included the latest and greatest equipment and stayed open twenty-four seven. The front half of the building featured glass windows that reached up two-stories, making it easy to see people working out inside. I’d heard the third floor was strictly for coaches and team captains.
When I walked into the lobby, I wasn’t allowed to go further than the front desk. Not that I wanted to explore past the plush couches and complimentary water bottles. Gyms freaked me out because of everyone’s intensity. I’d tried to get in the habit of attending cycle classes when I first moved on-campus. The class turned out to be too advanced and my dedication was too fragile.
I plopped into one couch facing the opening I assumed Weston would exit from. The bald, black guy at the front desk eyed me with curiosity. Whenever I looked over in his direction, he dipped his head back down to study the textbook opened in front of him. His desk companion, a girl with a tiny frame and gapped front teeth played a Gameboy. She offered me a water bottle and a complimentary towel even though I wasn’t dressed to work out.
“I’m fine,” I told her in a quiet voice. “Just waiting for someone.”
She paused, smashing the game console’s buttons, and offered, “Got a name? I could make an announcement for you if they’re late.”
“Announcements are for coaches and captains only, Sam,” the bald guy reminded her in a clipped tone. “You can’t bend the rules.”
She made a face and grumbled, “Goody-two shoes.”
“It’s fine,” I said while waving a dismissive hand. “I’m early.”
Early and shaking. I could hear the noise of rap music pulsing beyond the door. When I glanced towards the windows, I saw some familiar faces through the glass. A few of Weston’s teammates I’d met a few nights before were gathered near a weight-lifting bench. Kevin laid on his back, ready to lift the bar of weights while Max spotted him from behind.
A few feet away, David, Dakota, and a set of brown-skinned twins stood in a circle. The only expression I could read was David’s. He rubbed his temple with one hand while shaking his head. His other arm wrapped around his chest, muscles tight from clenching. Whatever he said made his teammates stood stiff.
Abruptly, Kevin released his bar, making the metal clash on its hook. The sound was loud enough to capture the attention of their neighbors and the two students who manned the front desk.
“Just a football player,” the bald guy comforted Sam, who’d jumped from surprise.
“He good?” she asked with concern in her voice as she leaned over to study the group of guys.
“Aren’t they always,” he answered in a bored tone while flipping a page of his book.
They didn’t look good. At least, not to me. From the outside, it was easy to dismiss the teammates as a group of energetic guys just having a conversation. I came from a household where reading between the lines was mandatory. Like most people, the guys had different ways of showing their discomfort. I hadn’t known them long enough to confirm all indicators. But I saw familiar body language. Dakota had fidgety fingers. He rubbed them together like he had crumbs on his nails.
Kevin’s jaw clenched when he pushed off the weight bench. He shoved his way into the circle, claiming the dominant position. Max followed Kevin, his white skin red and sweaty from their workout. He moved his lips quickly, trying to say something I couldn’t make out. Max’s hand hovered over Kevin’s shoulder, it looked like he was trying to calm the guy down.
Things quickly escalated when David voiced something with a grin. Whatever he said earned him an aggressive shove from Kevin. David swung back in an instant, his fist connecting with Kevin’s jaw.
“Shit,” Sam breathed. Like me, she still watched the guys in shock and wonder. “What do we do?”
The bald guy looked up and let out a sigh. “Let them hash it out for a second. Wait for a coach or captain to stop them.”
“You sure?” Sam replied as she stood up, ready to act, but not sure where to start.
“You wanna challenge the most untouchable guys on campus?” the guy asked as he pushed back his rolling chair to clear a space for her to walk through. “Go ahead. Be my guest.”
She shot him a dark stare but sat back down. “Fine. But, if anyone asks, I’m telling them you said to leave them alone.”
“Tell them whatever you want,” he said with a shrug and then glanced back through the glass. “It’s not our problem.”
I glanced back at the fight. No one tried to step in between Kevin and David. A few people surrounding them stopped working out completely to watch the exchange. Kevin returned David’s swing, knocking the guy to the ground. Before David could get to his feet, someone in the weight room yelled, “Hey!” loud enough for us to hear through the glass. Weston walked over with wet hair and a duffel bag hanging from his shoulders. He stepped in between his teammates, looking around at them without saying another word. His glare was icy as he took his time to scan each of them.
When Max tried to speak after a second, Weston held up a finger and pointed it to the ceiling. He added another finger. His teammates started moving when his third finger hit the air. By the time he held up four fingers, the twins had gathered their things and started towards the door. Kevin took a deep breath and followed suit, shoving his shoulder against the now standing David when he passed.
Max and Dakota followed the rest of them towards the lobby. By the time Weston held five fingers up, David was the only one still lingering. He stared at Weston, as if he was ready to challenge him. Weston stood his ground, unmovable and ready to fight. After a few more seconds of glaring, David turned towards the door.
The guys filed into the lobby. The twins were the fastest, hurrying past the front desk without so much as a glance in anyone’s direction. They moved in sync, ready to make themselves scarce.
“Arthur and Travis, meet us at the Minefield,” Kevin called after them with anger in his tone. “In a half hour.”
The twins disappeared outside of the door without acknowledging Kevin’s order.
