Page 11 of Offsides

Autumn texts me that Dani’s headed to the gym, so I toss on some workout clothes and head over there.

She still hasn’t returned my text from last night. Or the one I sent this morning.

Did she see them? They said delivered, but she doesn’t have read receipts turned on since she’s not a psycho. It’s possible she shoved her phone in a drawer and ignored it. It’s equally possible she’s just ignoring me.

And who can blame her?

I royally fucked up.

What the fuck was I thinking? She wasn’t giving me signals that she wanted me to kiss her. She was just letting me hug her because she was upset. About aguy.A different guy. A guy she’s been with for-fucking-ever. Ofcourseshe’d be upset that he brought some other chick around when they’d always gotten back together when they were both back in Montana before. She probably went home expecting to get laid on the regular for a few weeks by the guy she’s got loads of history with and instead went home to a slap in the face.

Nothing signals a relationship is well and truly over like your ex bringing home another woman to meet his family.

Especially if you never really considered him your ex, and I know Dani didn’t. She always called him her boyfriend, even when they were technically on a break.

When I get to the gym, Dani is already in the squat rack. I can tell she's still in her warm-up sets because she doesn't have much weight on the bar. The rack next to her is occupied, so I opt to do chest today. There's an open bench press behind Dani’s squat rack, and I toss my towel on the bench and set my water bottle on the floor next to it.

With my eyes on Dani, I begin my mobility drills before starting my warm-up sets. She finishes her set, places the bar on the rack, and begins to change her weight. It's not until she moves to replace the plates on the other side that she finally sees me.

Her eyes widen a fraction, but that's all the reaction she gives me. She lifts her chin in greeting, but doesn't say anything, returning her focus to the iron plates and ignoring me.

Annoyed, I finish my mobility drills and lie back on the bench, doing a set with just the bar to warm up. So she's not going to talk to me? That's the way this is going to go?

My frustration bubbles up as I place weights on the bar for my next warm-up set. Dani continues her workout without acknowledging my presence at all.

Normally we work out together, following similar routines, sharing equipment, and chatting between sets.

I decide to go for a personal record today, even though I'm not even supposed to be working chest right now. And I'm definitely not supposed to be pushing this hard. The season is over. We didn't make it to a bowl game this year. We’re supposed to be taking it easy until spring semester starts.

I don't give a shit what my workout plan calls for right now though. I'm too frustrated to take it easy and do half weight sets. I need the challenge to give me somewhere to focus my energy.

I can't decide if I'm more frustrated with myself or with Dani. Obviously I fucked up last night. But can't we just go back to how things always have been? Why does she have to ignore me? Was I really that bad?

If I were a different guy, I might be worried that I was a bad kisser. But I've kissed enough girls and had no complaints, so I'm pretty sure that's not the problem.

As I finish my final warm up set and add more weight to the bar so I can go for my top heavy single, Danny whirls around, trying to murder me with her glare.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demands.

I shrug in response and continue adjusting the weight on my barbell.

She stomps over to me, her shoulders hunched, her eyes narrowed. Her finger pokes me in the chest, the physical manifestation of an accusation. “You’re going for a PR.”

I dip my chin in a nod.

“Without a spotter?”

You’d think I was trying to jump out of a plane without a parachute from the way she says it.

Another shrug. “Yeah. I was leaving off the collars. I can dump the weight if I have to.”

She snorts. “You’resucha dumbass, Eli.” She moves around to the head of the bench in the spotter’s position. “You think I’m gonna let you do this without spotting you? Seriously?”

Unable to decide if I want to laugh or snarl, I rub a hand over my mouth to hide my warring expressions and study her. Her usual nimbus of frizz surrounds her head. She has on one of her snarky workout tanks today—a black one that says, “Dear Autocorrect, at no point have I ever meant ducking”—and dark green leggings. Her face has been scrubbed free of last night’s makeup. This Dani with the ponytail, no makeup, workout clothes, and a fierce expression on her face is the girl I’m used to. The one I fell in love with.

The one who apparently hates me now. But not enough to let me risk stupidly hurting myself.

That’s something, I guess.

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