Page 80 of Sweat

The radio is spotty here, but I keep it on.

“I think I’ll wait til I get real bad again. ‘Til I can’t hide it from him. Then, I’ll just say the medicine stopped working, and there’s no other options. It’s not really a lie. The medicine wasn’t working, and there’s no other options.”

I hold my tongue, seeing no use in parroting back to Erica what the doctors already have. That there was still a chance the chemo could make a dent.

“When are you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?” she asks at a normal volume, spider-crawling her fingers up my shoulder to attack the side of my neck.

“Ah!” I laugh, taking a hand off the steering wheel to swat her away. “I’m driving here, you nut. And there’s no girlfriend to meet.”

Oh, how true that statement is.

“Right, right. You’re justhanging out.” She says the two words in a low, mocking tone. “You seeing her tonight?”

“Maybe,” I sigh, only disappointed because of Rowan’s no-sleepovers-on-school-nights rule. If I see him, it’ll just be to train and trade blowjobs in his car before he drives me home. As much as I love the way he runs my ass into the ground before sucking me up into sweet oblivion, nothing beats a sleepover.

“It’s okay if it doesn’t work out. Rebounds rarely do.”

“It’s not a rebound,” I say. A rebound presumes I’m using Rowan to help get over Lese, but there’s nothing to get over. Even when Lese and I were good, I wasn’t invested the way a boyfriend should be. The thought of staying with her forever was scarier than any thought of losing her.

“Then what’s holding you back?”

So much it’s unfair. I don’t think Erica would suddenly think less of me if she finds out I’m dating a man, but I’m also not brave enough to take the risk when I’m not even sure if Rowan and I are dating. I want to date him. At least I’m brave enough to admit that. Even if we keep things discrete for a little while, I want to be with him. I want to berealwith him.

“We’ve both just got a lot going on right now.”

I must’ve sounded too melancholic, because Erica goes silent for a minute, probably thinking I mean her. I guess I do, but it’s an excuse either way. Wouldn’t matter what I have going on so long as Rowan wanted me back the way I want him.

“Maybe you should look into talking to someone. Like, a therapist.”

“Why?”

“For grief.”

“You’re still here. Nothing to grieve.” I’m saving face, and Erica lets me.

Even though I got the go-ahead from Coach to miss the match, he runs me during Monday’s practice harder than Rowan ever has. More than two hours straight of laps around the track under a high sun, him whistling at me whenever my legs cramp up and hollering at me to pick it up. I run until I’m on my knees and dry heaving into the grass.

Rowan brings me a water, squats down beside me and asks if I’m good with sympathy in his eyes.

“I’m good,” I pant, unscrewing my water and sloshing a third of it over my head before chugging the rest.

“Don’t pop a boner just yet,” Rowan says, a smirk in his tone. “Coach wants you joining drills. Need a hand?”

I take the one Rowan offers, and he hoists me up to my sore feet and slaps my back as I press the heel of my hand into my cramping side.

“Someone didn’t drink his pickle juice,” Rowan says.

Too tired to laugh, I give his ribs a lazy back-handed swat instead. “Tell you what,” I pant as we cross the field to where the rest of the team is running footwork drills, “you drink enough pickle juice for the both of us, and I’ll drink your salty cum once it reaches your balls.”

Rowan laughs so hard he’s got to clutch his side too, then Coach is screaming at us to get our asses in gear before he makes us both run suicides.

After practice, Rowan comes to my locker, sweaty and grass stained, and asks me how my classes are going. “I can tutor you,” he says.

I’m taking a load off on the bench, too exhausted to even peel out of my soaked through t-shirt. Got just enough energy left to chuckle at how silly Rowan is. Whether it’s training, yoga classes, morning runs, Sonic trips to cheer me up, and now tutoring, the dude is a scientist the way he’s always concocting new methods to spend most of our free time together.

“I’m good. Thanks.” It’s early in the semester, after all. Mid-terms won’t be for another couple weeks.

“It’s important to keep your grades up now that you’re on the team.”

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