Page 10 of Unraveling with You

My heart stings. Poor Celeste shouldn’t have to live in filth, but I couldn’t lift an arm one extra time last night when I got home, let alone do this week’s dishes after five days of cooking hell. Maybe I need a new job. Co-workers throughout the years have taken speed to contend with the workload, but I lived 18 years too long witnessing alcohol destroy Dad’s mood to want to go down that road, and spent 15 more years rebuilding my life from scratch without his help just to give up on my dreams now. I want to own my own restaurant someday, even if it takes 20 more years.

Once the dishes are done, Celeste follows me into the bathroom. Products I’ve used throughout the week clutter the small sink, leaving me nowhere to place my phone. I throw my scattered makeup into a bag and the rest into my disastrous top drawer until the counter is finally clean. Celeste springs onto the open countertop, enjoying her newfound perch to watch me in the mirror with a tilted head. I bump my shoulders in my tiny shower as I turn my back to the water.

Then my actual alarm rings.

I gasp, fumbling for my phone with wet fingers. It’s already noon. I had no idea Celeste let me sleep in this late, but now I only have 30 minutes to hop on the bus to meet Remington in time.

Celeste meows as I scramble to my bedroom dresser in a towel, throwing almost everything I own onto the floor until I find an old, black sports bra at the bottom.

Grunting, I fight with the elastic pinning my elbows to my sides, leaving my towel to flop on the ground. I yelp, dropping to the floor to hide behind my bed; I just flashed my whole ass to the street window. Celeste tenses, and I wriggle across the carpet to pet her head in reassurance, my arms still trapped against my chest.

Fuck, I’m stuck. An electric thrill shoots up my abdomen as I struggle with the stretchy fabric, except this time, my imagination paints a clear image of Remington tying me up.

“Oh, my God, Lilibeth, stop,” I hiss, jerking my hand through one hole just enough to yank the sports bra the rest of the way on.

With my wispy bangs styled neatly over my forehead, I leave the rest of my hair wet, combing it into a high ponytail. Celeste jolts off the counter, just as terrified as ever from the toaster’s loud declaration that it has completed its duties. I laugh as I collect my pre-workout carbohydrates. “My poor baby. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Celeste’s bright yellow eyes track me as I rush out the door.

Throwing my gym bag over my shoulder, I zip my loose, gray jacket. With it comes the nerves. I’m really doing this - meeting a practical stranger to work out. Except he already knows more about my innermost thoughts than I’d share with most friends, and I know more about him from Gabby than he probably intended.

As I flop onto the bus, my stomach gurgles in complaint. Munching on my toast doesn’t help. I’m unsure what to expect or what I’ll seem like around Remington today. He was sweet last weekend, but I’m afraid I’ve built up our agreement in my head all week. We’re just gym buddies, I remind myself.

And I’m not sure I’m the best gym buddy - more like an annoying younger sister to babysit on the machines. Josh said I shouldn’t wear this jacket while working out, so I put on yoga pants that stretched high enough up my back to cover the mark. I planned to take this baggy jacket off once I warmed up.

But I’ve never been in only a sports bra and yoga pants in front of anyone before. Even during sex, I prefer to wear a shirt, keep my back snug to the sheets, and hide the rest of me beneath the covers. Plus, it was a tight squeeze to get into this bra, and I didn’t have time to see how I fully looked before I left, but I’m probably spilling out of it. I already know I can’t act the part of an experienced gym-goer, but I hate not even looking the part.

Stepping off the bus has my nervous system on high alert. Maybe I should just go home. But as I reorient my windblown bangs in the gym doorway, someone calls my name.

Standing in the cement-walled Dynamo Fitness Center lobby, Remington waves with his hefty gym bag wobbling over his broad shoulders. He’s in thin black shorts and a taut black T-shirt with lightly rolled sleeves, giving me his same casual, half-up smile. “Hey, Lilibeth.”

My name on his full lips stirs my belly into overwhelm. I grip my tote bag straps, but I’m smiling. “Hey, Remington. Sorry, I’m late.”

“I’m just early. I haven’t had a gym buddy in a while, so I’ve been looking forward to it.”

My heart flips hard enough to lift my gaze. He was looking forward to this too?

Remington meets my elated eyes with an even softer smile. “Let’s head in and claim a spot to warm up.”

I nod, following after Remington as he hoists his heavy gym bag over his back with one rippling arm. It stirs excitement in my belly that feels far too inappropriate for the first few seconds we’ve met today. I need to behave myself, so I stare at his heels as we walk.

This gym is busier than the one Gabby sent me to, and Remington was right; it seems far less hardcore. Women laugh together on the treadmills, speed walking at a breezy, reachable pace. A few men cheer another on at the bench press, a welcome change that surprises me enough to widen my eyes.

Remington veers off, but I only know so by his voice shifting to my left. “Lilibeth–”

He gasps, but I stop just before I crash into a column three times wider than me. Thankfully, it’s padded, but Remington still races to a stop by my side with wide eyes.

I flush hot, no longer smiling. “O-oh, sorry, I– Sorry. I wasn’t looking ahead of myself.”

Hustling to the spot Remington picked out, I plop my tote beside his gym bag without lifting my head.

But Remington lets out a soft exhale. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Are you nervous?”

“Yes.” I dig through my bag for my refillable steel water bottle.

But when I peek at the bulky form blocking out the gym lights in front of me, Remington is still staring. “Am I making you nervous?”

I shake my head, standing next to him to face our reflection in the mirror. “I-I’ve been looking forward to this too. A lot.”

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