And the message she sent me yesterday didn’t help.
“Nothing,” I lie. “Fuck,” I curse as I pull the handlebar back toward my chest. He was the one who made me stop texting her. Indirectly, at least.
My triceps are on fire after my temper-fuelled last pulls. It pisses me off that the empty space in my chest is still there. That her laugh is still echoing in my head. Why is she so hard to get out of my mind?
It’s how she put it in her message. She’s spun me right the fuck off myaxis.
“I’m distracted,” I admit, breathing out hard as I pull back. The heavy flywheel whirs loudly.
With every push and pull, the numbers on the display tick up towards my goal of thirty kilometres.
Breathing intentionally, with long breaths out, I re-centre myself. I won’t let her permeate everything I do. Maybe I can shift my attention to work and whatever Horace is up to instead. Why is he hiring an HR person as an intern? Not just an HR person, but one who doesn’t even care about Infinio. ‘Just a job’ I believe her words were.
I’ve not talked to him about this decision, but having that colourful, wild-haired woman around isn’t helping my move to the ground floor. She’s loud, she smells too good, and something about her makes it even harder to stop thinking about Alice. I swear, their laughs sound similar, but it’s just me losing it.
Okay, I was wrong. It seems I can’t even think aboutworkwithout Alice infiltrating my thoughts.
Again, I breathe deeply.
Focus.
I press through, hammering past my goal and further.
“Alright, solid channelling of your frustrations there,” Aiden says with a hint of amusement, slowing down after he reaches his kilometre goal shortly after me.
Aiden comes over every Saturday morning for our long rowing session. We’ve kept it up since our university days.
He comes off the rowing machine and wipes the sweat off his forehead. He does it for so long it seems like a poor attempt to hide his deep frown.
“Alright, what is it?” I ask.
“What?”
“I know that face. You have something you want to say.” I push off the machine and stand up. He’s a mountain of a man, wider than I am, but we’re eye to eye.
“Well,” he starts. He wipes his face for the umpteenth time. No one’s that fucking sweaty. I pull the towel down to meet his steel-blue eyes again.
“Talk.”
I grab a protein shake from the fridge in the gym’s kitchenette and offer one to Aiden while I wait for him to open up.
“Your distraction. Is it about that girl? Alice? Did you message her again?”
“No,” I answer. “She messaged me, but you reminded me how off my routine I was because of her. I don’t have time for that.”
“It’s possible to have a relationship and work, you know. You’re only distracted because you’re trying so hard to avoid it.”
“What are you saying?”
“It’ll belessdistracting if you just go for it.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Tell me it’s not been pulling at your focus regardless,” he says, folding his massive arms across his broad chest. “Have you stared at your phone? Let your mind wander? Misplaced your frustrations?”
“Maybe,” I grumble. He’s right. As troubling as it is to admit it. “I’ve even started getting flustered by people at work. This girl…” I rub my temples, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Dangerous territory, my friend.”
