Page 26 of Waiting For Ever
Allie:Of course, Evvie. I’d assumed you’d been using it all along. Whatever you need. What’s mine is yours. You know that. Are you sure you’re okay if I extend my trip?
Me: Totally. I don’t even think we have that many campers booked. And the remote access to Fit is working well. Haven’t heard any complaints about the lack of classes either.
Allie: About that, I have a couple regulars that might be interested in hosting the basic classes. I may take them up on it. Julian said he’d arrange it.
Me: Great. Enjoy, Allie. Don’t worry about a thing. We’re solid. Thanks for letting me use your car. Totally appreciate it.
Yes! A car. I feel freer already.
Allie: Of course. And thank you for holding down the fort.
I reply with a smiley face and slide my phone back into my pocket.
Chapter 23
Julian
Sweat drips into my eyes. I pull my shirt up, swipe it down my face, grip the barbell and grind out another set. On the last rep, Sylvie steps up as if to spot me. I place the barbell back on the rack and sit up. Watching each other in the mirror, I greet her casually, belying my apprehension. “Hey, Sylvie. How’s it going?”
“Hey, Julian. I’ve been talking with some of the other ladies, and we want to bring back some of the classes while Allie’s gone.”
“Allie and I just discussed that this morning.”
Irritation flickers across her face before she plasters her lipstick-caked smile back in place. I’m not sure if it’s someone beating her to the punch or the mention of Allie that causes it, but I ignore it all the same.
“Great. I can totally run the yoga classes. No more than two to three times a week though.” She amends her offer to appear in charge.
“I’ll talk to her about it and get back to you. Thanks for offering.” I give a head nod and smile before adding, “I better get back to it before I cool down too much.”
“Of course, sweetie. Don’t go too hard.”
Winking at me in the mirror, she drags her polished nails lightly along my shoulders as she saunters off, trying way too hard to make people look at her—which they do, because Sylvie is a beautiful woman. She takes immaculate care of herself and always has. Much more now that her husband divorced her and moved to the city he commuted to for years. She told me she never had kids. Maybe that’s why Sylvie pretty much lives at the gym, and it shows. She looks half her age, unlike her friends. But the hard-won beauty only goes skin deep. Underneath, she’s bitter about the cards she’s been dealt. She considers herself the spokesperson for her group of ladies that frequent the gym—the ones that Lilly, Noah and probably everyone else around town refer to as the Cougar Club. They’re mostly harmless busybodies, but Sylvie is a know-it-all and can be especially mean if she feels crossed or otherwise threatened. And she acts like she has a claim on my attention. If any other ladies sign up for personal training with me, Sylvie makes it her business to be around, interjecting her two cents. I humor her and her input because, again, she is mostly harmless. I’ve even let myself be drawn to her a few times. It happened that first year I landed in Blue Lake and started working at Fit for Allie.
Six months of shadowing Allie and finally completing my personal training certification caught me celebrating at the local bar where I got a little too drunk. While I was feeling proud of myself and like someone for the first time ever, it also sent me down a gloom spiral of the past. I ended up wandering into the tattoo shop next door to the bar and getting the heart outline on my chest.
Walking out, Sylvie met me on the sidewalk. She was in the bar that night, watching me, talking to me off and on, and offered todrive me home. That’s how it began—a mutual scratching of an itch. It happened a few more times after that, strictly physical. She even offered to film and post a few training videos to the Fit website to attract memberships. Of course, the videos are just me training a client, which happened to be her. I didn’t mind if it helped bring in business. And since Allie and I both shy away from the social aspects of business, it was a win-win. But it only encouraged her possessiveness and enhanced her claim on me. When her behavior began to cross the line of our unspoken no-strings agreement, I ended it.
Since well before Ever showed up, the thought of Sylvie held no lure—if it ever did. Again, to me it was scratching an itch, nothing more. And she claimed it was the same for her at first. She didn’t want anyone to know her business, and I certainly didn’t want anyone to know mine. So we’d been discreet first and foremost. It only happened a few times, in my weaker moments of loneliness, if I’m being honest, but once I could tell the dynamic was changing for her, I put a stop to it. I didn’t want her to expect more from me. She was nice enough to me, if not to anyone else, and I didn’t want to hurt her. I felt like a dick anyway. Like I was using her. I know she was using me too, but I started to feel like an asshole.
Maybe it’s like Allie told me over the years: time and this place is healing me. What I was once able to do with no emotion I couldn’t do anymore. Sylvie mostly took it like a champ, acting as though she wasn’t invested either. She plays chill, the epitome of unbothered. But I know her better than most and I can tell I pissed her off by ending it. She likes to have the upper hand and feel like things are her idea. Maybe giving her a win and asking her to run the yoga classes is the peace treaty in our unspoken civil unrest.
I text Allie as soon as I leave the club to tell her Sylvie is down to host yoga. She sends a thumbs-up and a confetti emoji. I text Sylvie right after to let her know it’s a go if she’s willing. And to let me know her schedule so I can post it to the website and bulletin board. Her reply stops me cold.
Sylvie:Always happy to help. I can update the website. No worries. And Jules, that girl is . . . just a girl. You need a woman.
Fuck!
My chest tightens. So much for a truce. I mostly don’t pay attention to the cougar drama. It’s always something with that group. One thing I know is that none of them dare cross Sylvie. And I don’t want Ever on her radar. I guess I wasn’t as discreet as I thought or hoped. And fuck Sylvie. She doesn’t know a damn thing about Ever, except maybe her age—which means nothing. Her inexperience is all but forgotten when we’re together. Sylvie even saying her name has me seeing red and wanting to protect her from bullshit like this.
Approaching Allie’s house, I slow the Jeep but don’t stop. I admit I don’t want to face Ever just yet after Sylvie’s text. Besides, something is off with her today. She disappeared without a word this morning while I was talking to Allie. I didn’t bother to text her because I knew I’d see her later at Brew, yet she purposely chose to work in the kitchen and avoid me all day. She even found a way not to eat lunch with the rest of us, saying she had some homework to finish. I wanted to confront her, make sure she’s okay, but part of me is afraid she’s changed her mind about me. Everything about her screams too good to be true. Ever changing her mind about me tracks more. I’m convinced I don’tdeserve her. But she’s awoken something inside me that I’m not ready to analyze. And now I’ve put her on Sylvie’s radar. She deserves better than me. Someone innocent, like her. Someone to learn all the firsts with together—like I had once. I’m convinced she’ll realize it sooner or later. I choose cowardice and drive past Allie’s to my place instead. Just to shower, I tell myself.
Thoughts of her in my arms flood my mind as I pull up to my place. Her body responding to me like it was made for me alone carries me up the stairs and through the door as I strip off my sweat-drenched clothes, leaving them where they fall, and head into my shower. Maybe she does deserve someone better than me, but I’m not ready to let her go. The cold spray stings at first but does nothing to stop my thoughts. Then it heats up, which aligns with the images tracking through my mind. Ever looking at me with those hungry gray eyes. Her nails digging into my arm, wanting more. The low moans that tell me she likes what I’m doing. So wet. So tight. So beautiful. I imagine her lips around me like my hand is now, moving up and down, taking all of me until I’m ready to erupt. My release is quick and consuming, taking the tension and buildup of wanting her and getting a taste but never the relief.
Looking at my dripping face in the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink, I take some slow, deep breaths. My body might feel the relief of my orgasm, but my thoughts are escalating.
What if she changed her mind? What if she realized I’m not good enough?
I could leave. I could go away and start over again. I dismiss the idea as fast as it slams into my mind. Allie and I just discussed this morning how my roles here in Blue Lake would be changing, how I’d eventuallytake over as her partner. Making something of myself after feeling like nothing most of my life is all due to Allie. I can’t throw that away. I don’t want to. When we first met, sometimes her belief in me was all that kept me going in some of the darkest moments of my life.
