Page 42 of The Last Special Thing

She held out her hand for the pill and then washed it down with her water, curious about the effects. Aside from pain medication, used exclusively as prescribed, she had never ventured into recreational pills. She stuck her tongue out to show him it was gone. He took one himself, stuck his tongue out back at her, then put the baggie into her center console.

“Let’s go, Princess. You’re going to tear it up.”

“I always tear it up.” With or without Adderall, she thrived in the gym.

Amelia checked them in with the college-aged receptionist and used her guest pass on Art. Under the dim lights, they headed to the treadmills. Techno music reverberated off the floor beneath them.

“This is the strangest gym.” Art nodded in approval, eyes scanning the space. Rows of weights were next to the wall of mirrors. Mats and adjustable benches were lined in front of the treadmills.

“Best boot camp in the country,” Amelia quipped.

It was packed for a midday class. The clientele consisted of late-night bartenders, foodie bloggers, and influencers without a niche—the sort of people who walked around with giant headphones and turned their noses up at AirPods. Most were dressed like Amelia with workout sets and luxury shoes. Amelia’s eyes drifted to Art, who stood out. His being there, out of his comfort zone, meant a lot to her.

Amelia stepped up onto a treadmill next to Carlos, a peppy regular, who had already started a jog to ease into class. He craned his neck around her as Art took the treadmill on her other side.

“Bravo,” he said to Amelia after a heavy scan of Art.

She rested her hand against her chest and mouthed “Thank you.”

She had seen the guys Carlos had brought to the gym before. If there was anyone whose taste she trusted, it was his.

The instructor, a freckled brunette with no stomach fat and a round butt, called out the workout. “Incline 5, speed 3!”

Art’s expression was more panicked than when he had stolen the liquor. She reached over to his treadmill screen and toggled his incline and speed, then adjusted her own.

She hadn’t known what she expected the Adderall to feel like, but as her feet slammed against the black belt, her performance felt different. Heightened. Her heart raced, urging her to push harder. With another tap on the machine, she increased her speed beyond the instruction, feeling unstoppable.

“Bring it back down to a jog!” the instructor hollered after ten minutes.

Carlos eased his pace back down. On her other side, Art had halted his machine altogether. He gripped the treadmill's railing, his head hung low as he panted.

Amelia slowed, her legs trembling, but kept the jog pace. Despite the slight shake, she wanted to hop off the treadmill and run a mile around the block to prove she could. The sound of her shoes pounding and techno thumping was exhilarating.

Art restarted the treadmill, but kept the speed at a walking pace. He wasn’t on her same level. It was as if the Adderall channeled what they were already capable of. It couldn’t suddenly make him in great shape. His brown hair was plastered to the side of his face, and sweat dampened the back of his shirt. She pulled the extra hair tie off her wrist and handed it to him.

“You’re impressive.” Art said after a deep breath. He tied back his brown waves into a bun.

“Guess I have you beat.” She felt triumphant.

“Yeah, yeah, so you can run. Let’s see how you do with the weights,” Art challenged.

In the second half of class, they moved from the treadmills down to the benches set up in rows. Instead of her usual 15-lb weights, she grabbed the 18-lb ones. Art pulled a pair of the 20-lb weights to his bench.

Amelia laid out a sweat towel on her bench and then reclined. After the next set of instructions was announced over the music, the coach snaked between the students, adjusting their form as needed. While Art could lift more than she could, her form was better.

“Good job, Amelia.” The coach nodded.

She took pleasure in the way Art looked at her as she lifted the weights during a chest press, her arms strong and chest prominent.

When the music softened and the lights brightened, signaling the end of class, Amelia and Art wiped their sweat with towels and waved goodbye to a few more familiar faces that she recognized.

“Bring him again!” Carlos shouted with an animated wave.

Art flashed a smile as Amelia slipped her hand into his and led them out.

“Thanks again,” Amelia said as she passed the receptionist. The girl glanced up, then snapped her head back down.

The sun was bright, and the afternoon was just beginning. Amelia tugged Art into a smoothie shop a few doors down. A little treat for a job well done.