Speaking of—why the heck am I looking at his figure? My eyes snap up. Sure enough, he’s looking at me, cocky little grin in place like he’s God’s gift to the

female eye and caught me praising the Lord. Before he can comment on it—and I know he will because that’s such a good-looking guy thing to do—I hold up my

hand. “It’s early, I’m in sweat pants, heading into the lion’s den. Don’t start with me right now.” I stroll past him like I’m not really freaking out inside. I hear a small chuckle before he catches up with me.

“Lion’s den?”

Does he really have to ask? It’s pretty self-explanatory, if you ask me. “Yep.”

Tegan leads me through another set of glass doors and upstairs to a room filled with all the treadmills, ellipticals, exercise bikes, and all that.

“We’re going to start with Cardio.”

Oh, joy! Just what I want to hear. I love running in front of people.

“It’s not so bad. It’s actually my favorite part. Well, not doing it on a tread, but running, outside. There’s nothing like it.”

I’m still trying to figure out if I spoke out loud or if he saw the look of horror I’m probably wearing on my face. For the first time I wonder how all this is going to work, if he’s going to stand around and watch while I jog and everything jiggles.

“Do you like it? Jogging, I mean? I used to do Cross Country in high school.”

Cross country and weights. Holy fitness buff. Is there anything to this guy other than his workouts and apparent love of smoothies? And then I remember his

brother and mom. The care he showed them and the way he looked at me when I tried to help. The tightness in his face when I asked about them. Just like the rest of us, Gym Boy has his secrets.

I shake my head, still nervous to get up there and run in front of him.

“What do you do? Anything you like?”

Is this how things usually go? I’m curious what this has to do with our workout plan. “Roller blade. I used to ride a lot. Not as much anymore.”

Tegan smiles like I let him in on some deep secret. “Cool. Never done it myself. Maybe I’ll have to try it sometime.” He pats the treadmill. “Climb up.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I climb on. This is what I’m here for. I need to get over it and do it.

“Okay, we’re going to start out slow today. I want to see what you can do. Twenty minutes. A couple of them walking to warm you up, then we’ll go into a jog.

Deal?”

We’ll? I nod my head. He pushes a few buttons on the treadmill. When the belt starts moving I do too. Tegan jumps on the one next to mine. Oh, nice. Is he trying to show me up or something? But to my surprise, he keeps it at a steady walk like I’m doing. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to know what he’s doing, that he probably fears if he doesn’t stay up here with me, I’ll bolt. There’s a part of me that wants to run because hello? This is embarrassing. On the other hand, I appreciate it because somehow, it helps not to do it alone.

Before he thinks I’m ogling him again, I face forward. We’re both quiet until Tegan asks, “You ready to speed up?”

“I’ve been counting down the steps!” I tease.

He chuckles. “You’re funny. Go up to 3.8 and see how you handle that.” It’s not too bad, which is nice so I fall into a jog. Tegan’s right there with me, doing the same thing. The urge to talk to him bubbles up in my throat, but I don’t risk it for a couple reasons. The most important one being I’ve been at this for a few minutes now and I’m slightly out of breath. The last thing I want is to start gasping at the boy.

So, I keep my eyes on the timer instead. I guess like a watched pot never boils, a watched clock never ticks.

“Hey, Tegan. Why are you up here?” A pretty, long-legged brunette walks up next to his treadmill. Who does that? Just stands there talking to someone while

they’re sweating and running? Okay, so Tegan isn’t sweating like I am, but still.

“Just working out with Annabel.”

Legs looks back and forth between Tegan and I, but I don’t pay her much attention for fear I’ll fall and eat treadmill if I do.

“Oh…so we’re still on for tomorrow, right?”

It would really be cool if I had my iPod right now to help me block this out. I shouldn’t want to—I don’t know why I do—but I sort of want to hear what Tegan

has planned with this girl. I’m imagining all kinds of sordid things when he says, “Yep. 9:30 AM, just like every Sunday.”

So she’s a client.

A 9:30 client.

Nice. He might go from me to her. Hopefully we don’t share any of the same days.

She flips her hair over her shoulder. “Looking forward to it. I was thinking…maybe after you get off we could, like hang out or something?”

Oh, God. I really don’t want to hear Tegan and Legs make plans to go out.

“Um, thanks, but I can’t. I have to take my bro—I have an appointment.”

“Oh.” She looks at the ground and I actually feel kind of bad for her, but it doesn’t last long. I’m thinking about Tegan, wondering why he changed what he was

going to say.

“I’ll see you later.” Legs walks away.

There are times my mouth just goes and I’m unable to stop it. This is one of those times. “Pick up chicks here often?” Ugh. What is wrong with me? It’s not like I care.

The treadmill starts to slow, indicating our twenty minutes is up.

Tegan jumps off. “I’m pretty sure I just told her no.”

“How old is your brother? It’s him you’ll be with tomorrow, right?” Why won’t my mouth stop moving?

Tegan groans, mumbling something that sounds like, “I knew it.” Then to me, “We’re not here to talk about what I do or don’t do, or about my family. We’re here

because you wanted to make a change. If this is really what you want, I want it for you, but you’re going to have to decide right now.”

Now I feel like a bitch again. I’m judging him. Again. How many times have people done that to me? Not only that, but I’m being pushy about his family. It’s not

like I want people to ask me why my mom can hardly stand the sight of me, so I shouldn’t be getting into his business. I lean against the rail of the treadmill. “You’re right. I suck. I get nosey and throw huge walls of sarcasm up when I’m uncomfortable.” Suddenly, I’m beyond uncomfortable. My face flames.

He kind of tugs on his hair. “Don’t be. Uncomfortable, I mean. We all have some kind of demon in our lives…” His voice trails off before he picks up my water

bottle from the floor. “Huge walls of sarcasm don’t rank high on the list.”

I’m not sure where it comes from. Maybe the sound of his voice, but I can’t help but wonder what kind of demons Tegan’s hiding.

***

I wake up from my nap knowing I’ll be sore tomorrow. The weights we lifted were light. According to Tegan: Less weight, more repetition is best. I definitely felt

the burn and dread the ache a full night of sleep will allow to set in.

Since I crashed as soon as I got home, the first thing I do is take a shower so I can head out to meet Em. Should I tell her about the gym? I know her. She’s not like me. She’ll give me crap for going, assuming I’m doing it for all the Billy’s at school, which I guess I am. But it’s not like I need their approval, I’m doing this to prove a point. I’m doing it for me…I think.

But there’s even more to my reason for not wanting to tell her. For not telling anyone. I mean, beside the fact that I don’t want people to know if I fall on my face trying. For some reason, I want to hold onto this. Something I have that’s mine. Not Mom’s to micro-manage, Dad’s to defend, Em’s to get all emo about. It’s something only myself—or Tegan, I guess—can control. If no one else knows, I don’t have to worry about damage control or avoid confrontations from anyone in my

life.

Shower complete, I dress in a pair of black jeans, despite the heat. My legs are flabby so I always wear jeans or capris, and black is slimming, right? That’s what Mom always says. After putting on my light-blue, button up, short sleeve shirt, I add a little mascara to my eyes. They’re my favorite thing about myself and one of the only things I get compliments on. They’re a strange color. Almost icy in their blueness. I run a brush through my hair and call it good.