Page 20 of No One Else

My mind’s on autopilot through the stretching, my attention wandering over to Natalie at the front desk. Her shift ends in about twenty minutes and then we’re going to work on marketing stuff. Though we’ve spent time alone together recently doing the assignments, this feels different. Maybe because it’s late, the endless possibility of night stretched out before us.

Although, it’s obviously just me feeling that.

“I can’t make it at our normal time next week,” Heather says, directing my attention back to her. She takes a long swig out of her water bottle, mopping the sweat along her hairline with a towel. “My daughter has a ballet recital. Can we do a different night?”

“Sure. Let Natalie know at the front desk. She knows my availability and can work with you to find an alternate time.”

“Great,” she smiles. “Ever since I started training with you, the numbers on the scale have been dropping like crazy. I’ve lost more weight in the past six months than in the entire previous two years trying to do it by myself.”

“That’s awesome. But remember, it’s not just how many pounds you are. It’s how you feel too. You feeling good?”

“I feel amazing,” she says giddily. “Last week I-” she pauses, smiling to herself. “I was able to practice Emma’s ballet routine with her. I could bend down and touch my toes, I could jump. It was incredible. You’re a miracle worker.”

I shake my head. “It’s all you. You’re the one that has to put in the time and effort. I only show you the way. Keep you on track and accountable.”

“Well, it’s working.”

“Good. And I’m glad you could share that with your daughter.”

She nods in appreciation, gathering her stuff.

“And could you tell Natalie I’ll see her over there in about fifteen minutes?”

“Oh, are you twoseeingeach other?” she asks coquettishly.

I give her a tight-lipped smile. “We have a class project we have to work on.”

“Oh, sorry,” she says with disappointment on her face. “I just- well, I’ve noticed you looking at her a lot.”

I drop my head down. Jesus, am I that obvious to everyone? “She sort of shot me down a while ago.”

Her eyes widen. “Really? Well, you wouldn’t know it from the way she’s been eyeing you today.”

She has? I never saw that.

“Okay, obviously none of my business, but what happened? Are you comfortable talking about it?”

I study the tilt of her head, the concerned expression. Heather’s become somewhat of a friend over the last six months, even sort of a quasi-mother figure, despite not being old enough to be my mom. We’ve only ever spoken about her personal stuff, though. Initially her fitness goals and how she wanted to reverse some of her health problems, and later about her family and job in the human resources department at the university.

I know all about how her daughter wants to be a ballerina when she grows up and also about some ongoing feud between Linda and Sharon in HR, whoever they are. But she doesn’t know anything about me. The same as I told Natalie the other day, I’ve never felt comfortable talking about myself.

I rub the back of my neck, suddenly self-conscious. “I, um- it was my own fault. She’d just broken up with her boyfriend and I told her I loved her. But she, you know, didn’t feel the same way.”

“You’re kidding,” she laughs, then sobers once she sees my expression. “You’re not kidding.”

I lace my hands behind my head and blow out a breath. “It was stupid on my part. I don’t know what I was thinking. Just caught up in the moment. We were at this club dancing and then we were kissing and I told her and then she was yelling at me.” Once I start talking, the words won’t stop. “We didn’t talk for like a month and then we were paired together for this project and I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable around me so I made up this fake girlfriend but now I don’t know how to take it back.”

She puts her palm over her mouth, eyes wide. After a moment she says, “Evan, that’s- wow.”

“Anyway, so that’s what’s going on with me.” I clap my hands together in front of me and make like I’m going to walk away.

“Wait, wait.” She grabs my arm, laughing, and I turn back around. “So what’s your end game?”

“My end game?”

“Yeah, like your ultimate goal. You wouldn’t have created an imaginary girlfriend if you didn’t still have feelings for her.”

“Of course I do. I’m still holding out hope for the future.”

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