Page 3 of Fall With Me
Sweat pours down my body in rivulets.
I take it back.
All of it.
The instructor kicked my butt. My endorphins are running at top speed. So is my heart. After the rotations, we moved into a full-body Tabata workout with the step. Every other participant in the class had zero risers. Me? Coach put on the maximum number. When she did it, I snickered. The step didn’t scare me. These were what Mom used back in the nineties. How hard could they really be?
Oh, how wrong I was. At one point, I was legitimately concerned these older women might show me up.
How the instructor talked during the entire workout is beyond me. I’m puffing like I’m being chased by a horde of plague doctors, with those creepy goggles and beak masks.
“Newbie,” the teacher says, coming over to where I’m stretching my arms. “Good work today. You really showedup and proved yourself.”
I tilt my head forward, acknowledging her compliment. It’s silly that I’m this flattered over simple praise, but I am. “My name is Dawson. And thank you.”
“Well, Dawson, I hope to see you in one of my classes again soon.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to respond. To tell her I only came this morning because I don’t start my new job until Tuesday.
She walks over to a few of the other participants. I’m not sure why, maybe because she’s beautiful and kicked my derriere like she promised, but I’m disappointed she didn’t stick around and chat with me longer. I don’t have any friends in my new neighborhood and after the past year, I could really use one.
Women aren’t what you need to focus on, man.
Right. Finn’s my number one priority, and that’s it.
Besides, it’s not like I’ll ever see her again.
Chapter 3
Chloe
My last one-on-one client wouldnotstop talking. Now I’m rushing through my shower after work, my hurried movements making me clumsier by the minute. Like dropping my shampoo bottle on my toe. My stomach is tight, my toe is throbbing, and all I can think about it is not being late like usual.
Next to Thanksgiving, it’s the best Thursday of the year.
Opening game day.
I’m a proud graduate and supporter of the University of Utah. Or as we diehards like to say, “A Utah Fan Am I.”
There’s something exhilarating about fifty thousand people gathered together, cheering on a sports team. I also look fantastic in red, one of the school colors, as I’ve been told it complements my hair and eyes.
Dashing through my routine in record time, I finish by putting on my scarlet-colored lip gloss. Popping my lips together in my full-length mirror hanging behind my bathroom door, I swivel side to side, checking out my whiteshorts, red Utes T-shirt, and red Adidas. My hair is up in a high, perky ponytail. I have my University of Utah stud earrings in, and a silver charm bracelet with red, white, and black beads and the U logo dangling from it.
I look cute.
I can’t wait to grab my loaded nachos—the one unhealthy meal I’ll allow this week—and watch our team destroy our opponent.
Rushing to my hall closet, I snag my stadium-approved clear plastic bag off the top shelf and dump my purse contents inside.
I grab an unopened plastic water bottle from my small pantry (yes, I know these are bad for the earth, but I’m not paying seven bucks for one at the stadium) and toss it into my clear bag. My doorbell rings just as I’m snatching my keys off the hook by my back door.
Grabbing my stuff, I hurry to greet my twin brother.
He’s a copy and paste of me, but in male form. We share the same hair and eye color, the same rounded chin and straight nose, and we both have double-jointed knees. “Hey, Carter, perfect timing. Do you need a water or to throw anything in here?” I hold up my bag.
“Nah. I’ve got one in my truck.”
I follow Carter to his white F-250 parked in my driveway. “Are Grammy and Papa meeting us at the stadium?” We usually ride together.
