Page 16 of The Love You Hate
“Well, I was hoping to get some weights in.” I smile to myself as I confirm my suspicions. “I took a long run this morning,” Presley explains, grabbing weights from the rack near the mirror.
Gary tucks his hands in his oversized jean pockets. “How many miles did you do? Which trail?”
My hackles rise even though I know Gary isn’t a threat. He’s asking the wrong questions. “Uh, I ran six miles. I don’t always run that much. Only when I’ve…got a lot on my mind. Right now, I’m drowning in my own brain. I can’t get out of my head.”
I have to keep running fast because if I lower the speed the treadmill will start squeaking and then I won’t be able to hear Presley speaking. “What’s going on then, little lady?”
Presley visibly cringes. She smiles politely at him in the mirror as she begins bicep curls. “I’d rather not talk about it while I work out. I still have to get home and shower before work.” Gary takes the hint and heads back to the bar. Roger grunts and groans as he lifts. Doesn’t he know women think that’s gross? Gym noises are the worst. A quick glance at the mirror confirms that Presley is suppressing a smirk. She meets my eyes and rolls hers.
I slow the treadmill down to a walk now that I’m impossibly sweaty. Roger asks if I’m done and I gesture to the machine like he’s won the prize. I pick up the largest dumbbell in the room and stand next to Presley, facing the mirror. With my good arm, I curl my bicep several times quickly, then start grunting.
Presley halts all movement and stares at me. “Are the sound effects really needed?” Roger isn’t running fast so the annoying squeaking is loud enough that he can’t hear our conversation. “Nate.” Presley adds my name, exaggerating the word.
I let a small grin slip before I groan and bring the dumbbell up again. “No, but it makes me look like I’m strong.”
“The opposite,” Presley says, squatting with a weight held at her chest. “It makes you look like a buffoon.”
I tilt my head behind us. “What about him. Did it make him look like a strong, virile man?”
You can tell she’s embarrassed by the way her cheeks flame red. “Stop it. Don’t be rude.”
“He gets to do it but I can’t? What’s up with that double standard?”
“You’re my friend,so I can tell you the truth. He’s just a stranger.”
I can’t deny I like being in her small circle. A life of solitude is odd. You don’t have circles or friends or very much communication with people outside of your career. “Still a double standard,” I pant out, dropping the weight. I decide not to push it with my bad arm because fuck, if the stitches come open in front of Presley, she’ll turn into a mess…again. “How was your night?” it’s a casual question, I realize. Something a friend would ask a friend. If I set the standard, maybe she’ll roll with it.
“I had a hard time sleeping and my internet wasn’t working at all. If I’m going to be trapped here, at least let me on the internet so I can see what the rest of the world is doing. You know?” Presley smooths out herponytail. “What about you?”
“Couldn’t sleep either, but I do have internet. What do you mean, trapped?”
“Ugh. Lucky. I bet it’s because you’re up higher on the mountain more than I am. Trapped in the sense that I am here. Nowhere to go and nothing to do because there is nothing.”
“I might be able to help you get a better signal. Boost it at the very least. Maybe hardwire a modem like we’re back in ninety-nine. If you want?” She drops the weights and turns to look at me in person instead of in the mirror.
“Okay,” she agrees. “I won’t even say anything about you knowing how to do that like I want to. It’s obvious you just know…everything.”
“I have to get going,” I say. “First day of work!”
Instead of attitude like I expect, Presley grins. “We’re gonna bake our asses off today. I’m going to show you everything I know.”
“Sounds daunting for a one-armed man.”
She laughs and then coughs. “There’s a joke there but I promised a friend I would keep those to myself.”
“Ah, something about a long arm, I’m sure,” I say, lips twisting into a smirk.
Presley looks away. “Or a short, small one.”
“I left myself open to that one,” I say.
She laughs, looking over her shoulder. “Agreed. See you at work then.” Presley picks up more weights and effectively ends our conversation. Swallowing hard, I leave the gym area of the bar. There’s a jar on the counter that I drop cash in and walk out into the brisk morning. My sweat will turn to ice before I get home. Sighing, I do the only rational thing after I’ve run nine miles before seven in the morning, I run another mile home. I log into my computer briefly to jot down notes and work on reports so I don’t have to do them later on. I shower and dress for the day before I walk into town.
Ryan has been at the bakery for at least four hours when I walk in. He greets me with a big smile, and tosses an apron my way. “I always take the early shift. Mostly because I don’t think Presley would do well with early mornings. I get here at four to start the breakfast muffins and bagels.” He is giving me a tutorial on the different ovens and processes as he speaks. “I’d like it if you could pick up some mornings here and there so I can do big climbs. With rock climbing you have to start early and get done before the afternoon storms roll in. Lightning is a real threat, you know?”
“I wake up early. Just so you know, Presley wakes up early too. I saw her in the gym earlier today. I bet she’d do some mornings.” Selfishly, I think if we did mornings together, that would be one less thing for me to worry about. She’d be in front of my face. There would be zero guesswork. “Happy to help out where I can.” I owe Ryan a debt for giving me a chance most people in this town wouldn’t.
Presley comes in the side entrance apologizing for being the last person here even though she’s not late. “‘Morning sunshine,” Ryan drawls. “Bread is almost finished and the donuts need to be glazed.” She falls right into step. I’m learning new things about her every day. She enjoys having tasks. That, or she’s trying to ignore me in a studious fashion.
