“Well, you’re being a little more than friendly. Even Dex noticed.”
“It’s usually not this difficult.”
“Tell that to everyone else who’s been watching you crash and burn for four months now.”
I focus on the burn in my chest, the way my arms start to burn as I lift the bar over and over. It’s good. Focuses me on something other than the fact that Juliette barely makes eye contact with me when shesees me in the hallways. Won’t even acknowledge I exist most of the time.
I’ve never been this spectacularly bad at talking to women. I’m pretty decent at reading people, at making them laugh, at being charming enough that they at least give me a shot. But she’s got walls up that I can’t seem to get past no matter what I try. Every attempt gets me frozen out even harder.
“Maybe that’s the whole point,” Almardon offers. “Maybe she actually wants you to stop trying.”
“Then why does she keep looking at me?”
“What?”
“When she thinks I’m not paying attention. I’ve caught her twice now.” I finish my set and sit up, sweat dripping down my temples. “She looks. Then when I notice, she pretends she wasn’t.”
Almardon brings the rowing machine to a slow stop. “Maybe you’re imagining it.”
I laugh slightly. “I’m not imagining it. I know what it looks like when I get checked out.”
“Or maybe she’s trying to figure out why you won’t leave her alone. Like she’s worried she has to watch you in case you just snap like you’re a killer in a true crime documentary.”
I throw my towel at him. It hits him in the face with a damp smack. “You’re supposed to be supportive here.”
“I am being supportive. I’m supporting you not making an ass of yourself.” He tosses the towel back. “More of an ass than you already are.”
“Yeah, well, too late for that, probably.”
He laughs but he’s right, and I know he’s right. I should back off. Give her space. Stop showing up everywhere I think she might be like some kind of stalker. It’s creepy, and I’m better than this.
I need to let it go.
The doorto the gym opens and Roman walks in, already in a mood.
“Yo, Cap,” I call out. “What’s got you looking like that?”
“Barrett wants extra film review this afternoon,” Roman says, dropping his bag on the floor. He sounds exhausted already.
Almardon and I exchange a look. “We won that game,” I point out.
“By one goal. In overtime. After we blew a two-goal lead in the third.”
“Still counts as a win.”
“Tell that to Barrett.” Roman points between me and Almardon. “Film at three. Don’t be late.”
“I’m never late.”
“You were late last Tuesday.”
“That was different. I had a thing.”
Roman gives me this look that says he knows exactly what “thing” means and doesn’t believe it for a second. “Three o’clock. Don’t make me come find you.”
He heads for the weights and I finish my workout, then grab my clothes and head to the showers. The hot water beats against my shoulders, washing away the sweat and some of the tension. By the time I’m dressed and leaving, the PT room is open and Jake is working with someone.
I hear him laugh and then a quieter response. Her.
