We talk between sets. I let my mouth go on autopilot—smirks, jokes, a few eyebrow raises. She asks if I’m going to the pre-semester kick-off party at Alpha Phi tonight.
“Maybe,” I say. “If I’m still standing after this leg day from hell.”
“You should. I’ll be there.” She holds my gaze a beat longer than necessary.
Invitation obvious.
But when she walks away, all I feel is... tired.
Just... flat.
Like my brain registered the social situation but I don’t have the energy to care. So what, I go meet her, we sleep together and then what? I don’t do one night stands; I’m a relationship guy. I like getting to know people and making a connection. I’ve tried it since the breakup with Paige, but it makes me feel hollow.
I honestly prefer my hand and a good video.
I finish my workout, towel off, and sit on the locker room bench, staring at the floor.
“Freds, what do I do, man?” I ask Freddie as I leave, rhetorically really. He’s wiping down the counter, finishing up his shift. He works part-time here as the gym manager.
“Dye it blonde, bro. I’ve told you this before.”
“Not about my hair, dipshit.” He grins. “About women, the elusive other sex. I think I’m permanently damaged. I don’t know if I will ever be able to pleasure a woman again.”
“Can’t lose what you never had, shortcake.”
I give him a pointed look and he laughs.
“I’m serious, man. I haven’t wanted to sleep with anyone since…the devil,” I whisper.
“You’ve slept with like five women,” he deadpans.
“Yes! But I didn’tfeelanything. I was seeing if I did.” I sigh dramatically
“It took five women to…? No. You know what? OK, I’m sorry. What do you really mean?”
“I think…I’m over it. I don’t know what I want.”
Freddie gives me a sympathetic smile and slaps me on the shoulder.
“I get it, but the pain won’t last. I’m not…the greatest with words. But I think you should give it time, bro. That’s all we’ve got. The only thing that heals shit.” He shrugs and I wonder if he’s thinking about the time he and his girlfriend Alex spent apart after they had a huge fall out before they got together.
“I guess.”
“And hey, you’re coming to the party with Delilah’s friends on Friday, right?”
I grin easily. “Of course, Freds. It's gonna be a wicked night.”
5
PIPER
The basement lab is twenty-six degrees Celsius—three above optimal for hardware health and fifteen above optimal for Piper Renner's patience. Graphics cards whir like hornets, overhead fluorescents stutter like half-hearted apologies, and I’m barricaded in the far corner, pretending my travel mug of lukewarm coffee is a personal force-field.
Mandatory Creative Writing tutoring.
Great.
Exactly how I wanted to spend a Tuesday, some creative-writing guy mansplaining “feelings” so I can drag my Creative Writing grade from a 42 to the magic 68 that keeps my scholarship intact.
