Page 20 of Sweat

Tommy

Too busy to train? Sounds like a quitter’s spirit to me

I reschedule on him again tonight, but I send him a workout set list I want him to get through at the gym without me. All cardio and balance. I considered adding time on the rowing machine to the list, but I’m not sure he knows the equipment, and using a machine improperly is worse than not working out at all.

Me

Meet 6am tomorrow at McKinley

I’m heading into a tutoring session with a varsity volleyballer when Tommy answers.

Tommy

6am?? On a Saturday?? Your nuts

Using the wrong “you’re” makes me chuckle. Also makes me think he might not be doing awesome in his writing intensive classes. If he’s going to be on my team come August, he’ll need to keep up with the sports department’s rules for academic success.

Me

Don’t pout

I have to force myself not to add “baby boy” to the end. It’s so easy to tease Tommy when he never challenges me. The next time he tells me to stop, I will, but he hasn’t. He asked me why once, and it made me so defensive and flustered that I doubled down harder than I should’ve. Still, Tommy took it without question.

Tommy

Not pouting. Looking forward to it. Your still nuts

Is it a bad sign that I’m blushing? The volleyballer notices, because he tips his chin at me and asks if I’m texting my girlfriend. Why does everyone assume I should have a girlfriend? Even if I was born with the inclination to desire a girlfriend, I’ve got way too much shit on my plate to worry about getting into a relationship. People on the internet love to wax on about how relationships take work. Well, I don’t need more work, unless it’s the kind that puts food in my mouth and gas in my car.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

I look up from my phone, halfway through a text instructing Tommy to time his mile speed on the treadmill. The way this freakishly tall blondie is smirking at me makes me want to give him the old Tommy “Tyson” Mathison treatment. With folded arms, he’s lounged back in the desk chair like this is his mommy’s house and not a private study room.

“You wish,” I tell him in a hard tone that hopefully conveys how he should mind his fucking business.

Oscar is the dude’s name, and he’s got a slight Scandinavian accent to go along with the inflection in his vocal cadence that makes me think he’sgaygay. The sort of gay who owns it as part of his identity and not just a porn preference.

“Actually,” he says, drinking me up with crystalline eyes like he’s trying to picture me naked, “I’d much prefer you to be single, but I’m not picky.”

“Nothing against you, man, but I don’t swing your way.”

Oscar’s smirk widens as he pushes himself forward, elbows on the table to lean closer to me. “I’ve seen you before. At Moustache Jack.”

Shit.I knew going there was a bad call, but I figured it’s far enough from campus it’d be reasonably safe. It’s not like I do anything there besides sip sissy cocktails and people-watch until my anxiety reaches max capacity. I’ve semi-flirted with a few older guys who flirted with me first, but no one I’d actually be interested in has ever approached me. Had Oscar approached me, I’m not so sure how I’d feel. He’sgaygay, a little too tall, a little too blond, and a little too smug. But he’s cute, muscular, and my age.

“That wasn’t me,” I lie, because my current anxiety dictates it.

Oscar’s tongue runs along the seam of his mouth, adding shivers to the churning feeling in my gut. “Maybe not. But if it was you, it wouldn’t be a big deal. A lot of people are gay now.”

“Good for them.”

Finally meeting my stalemate, Oscar pulls his gaze from mine and pushes Krakauer’sWhere Men Win Gloryacross the table toward me. “My English Comprehension paper on this book is due tomorrow. Heads up, I never even started reading it.”

Just like that, my shivers turn to annoyance, but at least I’ve read this book before.

“Get me an A, and I’ll buy you a drink sometime,” Oscar says as he scribbles ten numbers onto the top of his tutoring slip. A phone number. He pushes the slip toward me, and it takes everything inside me not to get up and leave.

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