Page 6 of Body Check
I nod, but I’m grateful when he settles himself on the bench and reaches for the bar. When the set is over, he wipes the equipment down before coming to stand next to me, like we’re switching places. Fuck me, I guess we’re workout buddies now. Could be worse, though. At least it’s JT here and not Mickey. The walls would probably start shaking because that guy never stops moving.
We work our way around the circuit, and I learn that Calla is an actual genius who can hold her own head up and reach for her feet. I shit you not, he’s proud as fuck when he’s telling me this, and even I’ve got to admit that it must be pretty cool to watch your baby hit all those milestones. Granted, I couldn’t name one of them, but JT knows them all, so I just listen and nod.
I’ve got twenty minutes left before I need to hit the showers, but just when I think I’ve found a level of social interaction that doesn’t piss me off, I catch a glimpse of a few more teammates through the glass-lined wall of the gym.
Blue’s leading the pack, so that’s the good news. Ollie’s behind him with one of the freshmen, and Mickey’s bringing up the rear.
Dammit.
Twenty minutes. I can do this. I can do anything for twenty minutes, even ignore the most annoying guy on the planet.
The guys file in and start warming up, and the clock is counting down. I haven’t called anyone a dick-for-brains yet, and I’m mighty pleased with myself. I might just deserve a little treat after this. You know what, I fucking do. If I can keep my mouth shut for the next eight minutes, I’m stopping by Drip for a celebratory black coffee.
“So…I’ve been thinking,” Blue says, sidling up next to me.
“What the fuck did you do now?” I ask. And no, my conversation with Blue doesn’t count as talking. He’s my bestie. No rules apply.
“Nothing,” he says, putting his hands up and proving beyond a doubt that he did something stupid. “I might check with that realtor and see if any housing has opened up? You and I could get a condo.”
That was our original plan, but all the good housing was scooped up by the time we decided to transfer here. It really would be ideal, but we’ve got the third floor pretty much to ourselves since no one claimed the extra room. Sighing, I turn to my buddy and repeat my earlier question. “What the fuck did you do?”
Just as Blue opens his mouth to proclaim his innocence, Ollie joins the conversation. “He pissed Liza off.”
“That’s not new information,” I tell him, irritated that he’s chiming in. Unsurprisingly, the glitter prank did not inspire joy and camaraderie. Instead of hitting our new teammates in the face, it got dumped on Liza, our house manager. And no, Blue didn’t apologize immediately or profusely. He laughed his ass off. And then assumed she was the cleaning crew.
So, he’s definitely on her shitlist, and that’s especially bad because not only does she live with us, she’s an equipment manager for the team. I wouldn’t be surprised if she orders his compression shorts a size too small or misspells his name on the back of his jersey. I can just see it now. Instead of Halliday, it would read Asshole-iday.
“You fucked up, bro,” Mickey says, aiming his words at Blue, as I stave off the urge to roll my eyes.
“I know,” Blue says, rubbing his face.
“You sent her flowers, right?” I ask. “She’ll forgive you eventually. Just don’t piss her off anymore.”
“Too late for that,” Mickey says, bounding over to our row of leg presses. There are dozens and dozens of machines in here, so why the hell he feels compelled to use the one next to Blue, I’ll never know. And the guy just keeps yapping. “He really pissed her off this morning. I’ve known Liza for two years, and I’ve never seen her face that shade of red. She was livid. I thought she’d get over the glitter thing, but after this, I think you’re on her permanent shit list. ”
“Do you ever shut up?” I ask him. It’s a rhetorical question, so when he starts to answer, I ignore him and turn back to Blue. “Is it worse than the glitter?”
“I guess so,” he shrugs. “I don’t even know what she was mad about. It’s not my fault a couple friends stopped by this morning offering to show me around campus and walk me to my classes.”
Oh, shit. No doubt these friends had fake tits and spray tans. “Of course you have an entourage to walk you around campus your first damn day,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Why would Liza care, though? She hates you.”
“Fuck you,” Blue volleys back good naturedly. “She doesn’t hate me. She just doesn’t like me all that much. And even if she does hate me, she’s the only person at this university who does. Can you say the same thing? Nope. So, I’m winning.”
“I’ll be sure to get you a trophy,” I deadpan. “What’d you do? Screw one of the tour guides on the counter while she was trying to make her breakfast?”
“No! I didn’t even touch them. They touched me, but I didn’t touch back. All I did was make them smoothies.”
“It’s true,” Ollie says, joining us as JT heads for the showers. “But then the girls started fighting over who’d walk you to your first class. Things got a little heated, and when your boy here tried to intervene,” he says, gesturing to Blue, “the girls got a little handsy and Mariah shoved Kenzi, which caused her smoothie to go airborne. It launched like a rocket, and it landedall over Blue’s shirt. And the floor. And the cabinets. And I think I saw some drips on the oven door.”
This story is making me glad I left so early, but I still don’t get how Liza’s involved.
“I was running late, so I didn’t have time to clean it up. I barely had time to run upstairs to get another one. In my haste,” he says, biting back a grimace,” I tossed the soaking wet shirt across the room. I was aiming for the sink, but instead…”
“He hit Liza in the face with his nasty, wet shirt,” Mickey finishes. “She’s got every right to be mad. You didn’t even clean up your mess.”
“You’re one to talk,” I fire back. “You left half a pizza in the oven. Overnight,” I remind him.
“Oh, shit. Is it?—”
