Page 31 of ILY
It’s beena while since I’ve gone to the gym with everyone. I’ve been a little distracted, and it’s hard to be around happy couples. I mean, I’m really glad my friends are all starting to pair up, but watching them coo and drool over one another makes the loneliness a bit much some days.
Not to mention, they all think I’m a lunatic for my war against Michael.
But when Thom texts me, I can’t tell him no. He’s testing out a new bootcamp class and swears he’s going to go easy on me. I know the man is a fucking liar, but if all else fails, I’ll just fall on the floor and play dead.
Besides, it’ll be good for me to sweat out all the booze and sexual frustration I’ve been accumulating. You’d think getting a couple of orgasms from Thorne would take the edge off, but the more we do together, the more I seem to want.
He’s like a drug, and I am in no place to become addicted or obsessed.
Especially since I don’t actually know him.
He appears and disappears like a damn ghost, and if it weren’t for the cashier acknowledging him when wewere buying plants, I might think he was a stress-induced hallucination.
I arrive at the gym early, annoyed that Thom wants to start this bootcamp at seven in the morning on a Sunday like some kind of exercise dictator. Thankfully, I think to grab a coffee on the way in, and I’m feeling somewhat jittery as I head inside. The gym is relatively empty because everyone loves themselves a lot more than Thom does on a Sunday morning.
Though the way he’s smiling and flirting with Robbie says maybe he’s in love with his life. God, what must that be like?
Right now, my life—apart from Thorne—is one big, disastrous tunnel of shit, and I can’t seem to find the light telling me I’m near the end.
Walking into the big room where they hold all the classes, I see Rhett hunched against the wall, holding a gigantic iced coffee between both hands, looking like he wants to commit murder. Robbie looks about as thrilled as him.
Thom is at the far end of the room talking to his brother. They’re laughing and smiling, and while I don’t know Dex very well, he seems like a decent person. Although the guy does put on a 7:00 a.m. cycling class. I took it once—andonlyonce. He’s worse than his brother. My ass hurt for ages after that and not in the fun I-was-just-fucked way.
The last person in the room I recognize immediately is Roman. I’ve met him several times going to Deaf drag events to watch Denver perform. He’s a pretty decent guy, but he’s got a big chip on his shoulder about hearies, and it was only when he realized I was fluent that he quit looking like he wanted to stab me through both eyeballs.
He catches my gaze and jerks his chin up by way of greeting, his arms still tightly folded over his chest. I’m too close to the Deaf community to not have gotten all the gossip about him and Robbie, so I know that’s what his issue is.
Thom is by no means fluent. He’s just very enthusiastic and has a big heart. I will give him credit though, he has a knack for visual languages, which makes up for the fact that his dyslexia fucks his ability to read and write. But I know it irritates Roman that Robbie chose Thom.
That Robbie chose a hearing person over him.
This class is going to be interesting.
“Yo! You came!” Thom signs and speaks very loudly with his whole body. He jogs across the room and yanks me into a hug. He’s always been touchy, which is probably why he blends in with Robbie’s friends so well.
“I’m here against my will. This is a hostage situation,” I say, my hands moving along with my words. I know my form of communication is going to piss off Roman. He’s firmly against sim-com, but Thom’s brother has only just started learning ASL, and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t taken a formal class yet. I don’t want him left out. I know what that feels like. “My caffeine is still entering my bloodstream.”
Robbie lifts his own tumbler and tips it to me in solidarity. Rhett meets my gaze but doesn’t do more than glower angrily as he sucks down his coffee while Mellie rubs his back.
‘Okay,’ Thom signs, turning his voice off. ‘BOOTCAMP.’
He fingerspells it wrong, but we all get the gist.
Torture time.
I flip him the bird, and Mellie laughs loudly. ‘Are you doing this class in ASL?’
‘No,’ Rhett finally answers for him, handing Mellie his mostly empty cup. ‘Theonlyreason I’m here today and theonlyreason Mellie is still alive is because he said I can interpret instead of work out.’
‘Once I’m fluent, I’m going to do sign-only classes,’ Thom tells me proudly.
I give him an exhausted Deaf applause—tree-tree-tree.
As I do this, my gaze flickers over to Dex, who’s glancing around, looking a bit confused. Probably has no idea what’s being said, but I’m sure Rhett will fill him in shortly.
Suddenly, Roman steps up beside me and makes an angry scoff. It’s one I know he knows is loud enough to be heard. He does it on purpose, to make a point.
‘How did they trick you into working out at the crack of dawn?’ I ask.
