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Icould no longer hidein a corner of the gym and do my workout uninterrupted. The football guys always seemed to be more interested in my workout routine than their own.How many reps was I doing? What weight was I lifting? How many chin ups could I do?
Cullen Mercer, the Coach’s son was the worst offender. Everything was a competition to him. Second was Tenn Jackson. At six three and built like a barricade, he amused me by openly flouting the uniform rule. He wore tanks that showed off his pecs in all their glory, everyday apologizing to Coach Mercer that his assigned football top was in the laundry. Funny though, Tenn’s chest and Cullen’s biceps did little for me. As much as they liked to parade around the gym, it was the memory of Max’s tennis legs that were imprinted in my mind.
Planning to do a few laps and sprints today, I whizzed through my weights routine only to have Cullen, Tenn and Sawyer approach me as I was about to finish off my kettlebell exercises.
“Okay, chin ups, how many can you do?” The boys were right next to me, stretching their shoulders as they looked up at the bar.
I replaced my kettlebell on the shelf, only to hear Cullen say, “Taylor? How many?”
“Me?” I asked in surprise.
“Yeah, you,” he said with a smirk. “How many?”
I shook my head. “I dunno, it’s not on my program today.”
Tenn laughed. “Not on your program? Hey, come on! Let’s see what you’ve got!”
Cullen jumped up to the bar. The others started counting. Yeah, I stopped and watched. Tenn went next, then Sawyer. And I knew what was coming. There was no way I would be able to get out of it. I’d out planked Tenn and Cullen the other day, so I knew they wanted revenge.
It had been the same with Joel and Luka Sosnowski. The three of us were competitive in all aspects of training, runs, drills, exercises. There were no allowances for being a girl either. If they did twenty pushups, I had to do them as well. They might be faster in the 50 meter sprint, but I could outlast them in the long runs.
I was never going to match the boys’ efforts of 22, 16 and 15, so I made it known. “I’ll try for ten,” I said. “That’s my goal.”
“Ten for Tenn,” Tenn raised his eyebrows, laughing at his own joke. I rolled my eyes and asked him to push the bench over so I could jump up to the bar.
Without warning, Tenn scooped me up and lifted me so I could reach, and the count began. I got to seven relatively easily. Eight was okay. Nine was an effort, but I wouldn’t let myself fail. If ten was the goal, I’d do it—even if my arms were shaking. With the boys urging me on, I found it in me to do the last one, and then I dropped down, pretty pleased with myself.
“Good form, Taylor.” I hadn’t realized Coach Mercer was watching, and the next few minutes were spent discussing how awesome we all were. Typical gym behavior, everyone tooting their own horn. I was used to it with the Sosnowski twins—you had to believe you were great because nobody else would do it for you.
Coach ordered everyone to put their weights away and sanitize the equipment. Even though I enjoyed bantering with the boys, I was annoyed that I hadn’t gotten to the track. I told myself that Max might not even have been there.
I didn’t know how to describe the feeling when I noticed Max sitting next to my Dad at Woodruff yesterday. It was an away game, a twenty minute drive, and I hadn’t expected he’d be there. For some reason, my game lifted—just like that time when I’d been playing Bianca. It was as if I was trying to impress him...or something.
And then I’d freaked out when Dad showed me a video that Max had sent him. Well, I freaked out internally. To Dad, I acted all nonchalant and calm as if it was totally normal that he was connected with Max online. I pretended I was watching my serve over and over so I could study my body rotation, but I was filled with a fantastical notion that Max was mesmerized by me. I knew he was likely doing it for Coach Clay, but a girl can dream, can’t she?
Cullen and Tenn insisted I join them in the cafeteria for breakfast, and because I had wasted so much time listening to theirgym stories, I did. There would be no time to go to my car and eat. And I was still annoyed at missing out on my run. After a quick shower, I was surprised to see Cullen and Tenn waiting for me, both keen to point out the high protein foods. I wasn’t used to eating bacon and eggs in the morning and opted for granola with high-protein yogurt. The percentage of protein in foods was a point of discussion that was seemingly endless for the boys.
I smelt him before I saw him—okay, that might sound gross, but the fresh, woody scent that I’d come to identify as ‘Max’ alerted me to his presence. A wave of anticipation rushed through me—he wanted to tell me he’d missed me at running!
But he was there to talk to Cullen and Tenn, something about Phoenix. I wondered if it was the same Phoenix who had played in the tennis team, and it was only as he was backing away that he mentioned me, precisely“Uh Taylor, good games against Woodruff yesterday.”Still, I clung to his praise like it was an ode of undying love.
The next thing, Max stumbled and his bagel went flying off of his tray, landing under Tenn’s chair. I bent down to retrieve it. It had split on impact, two sides smeared with cream cheese. I held it together like I’d performed a daring rescue, but Max had vanished.
I looked around to see him sitting down at a nearby table.
“Uh, the three second rule?” I said.
Cullen and Tenn laughed, and Cullen grabbed it from me, ready to toss it like a football. He called to Sawyer and I cringed as it flew across the room, hoping it wasn’t the start of a free-for-all food fight. I was sure Covington Prep didn’t permit such things, and I certainly didn’t want to be the one who had instigated it. Sure enough, the bagel flew back to Cullen, followed by an apple which he easily plucked from the air.
The glint in Cullen’s eye made me push my chair back. I couldn’t be a part of this—I had a scholarship to protect. Scooping up my backpack, I stood and fled for the exit. Tenn was right beside me, guiding me out.
“Not in the mood for a food fight?” he asked as we made our way down the hallway.
“I don’t think it’s a good look if I get into any trouble,” I said.
“Ah, so you’re a bit of a square, huh, Frank?” He bumped my shoulder in a teasing way.
“Guess I am,” I said. “So, you probably better not stand too close to me, you know? You probably have a reputation to uphold around here.”
