Читать книгу A Season of Hopes and Dreams - Lynsey James - Страница 15

Chapter Seven

The next morning, I’m in the gym bright and early. It’s my day off at the bakery and I want to make the most of it, especially now I’ve got the reunion coming up in a couple of months. It’ll also help me accomplish the first item on my bucket list: Conquer my body issues, once and for all.

I don’t have any idea what I’m doing, of course. After my disaster with the rowing machine, I’ve decided to stick to the treadmill. It’s just walking (or jogging if I’m feeling brave), so nothing can go wrong, right?

Unsurprisingly for this time of day, the gym’s virtually empty. The only people here are the really hardcore gym-goers. And me, of course. I prefer it like this; if I make a massive mistake, there’s no one around to laugh at me and there’s no silent competition with the person on the next treadmill. It’s just me and my music; today’s choice is ‘Spice Up Your Life’ by the Spice Girls. My love for nineties pop groups knows no bounds.

I’m just getting into a nice little rhythm when a loud bang from somewhere in the gym bursts through my headphones. It sounds like someone dropping a kettlebell or something. I nearly jump out of my skin and my hand accidentally hits the speed lever, cranking it up a good few notches.

‘Shit!’ I yell as my eyes dart around me to find the emergency stop button. ‘How do you stop this thing?!’

I probably look like Bugs Bunny running away from Elmer Fudd at this point, but I’m too terrified to care. Just as I think I might actually take flight with the speed I’m building up, a hand reaches over and flips the emergency stop switch. I look to my right and see Scott standing on the treadmill next to me, stifling a laugh.

‘Not that I’m counting,’ he says with a grin, ‘but that’s the second time I’ve had to rescue you from our gym equipment in three days. I reckon you should take up yoga instead; it’s much safer, you know.’

I take a second to get my breath back and shoot him a glare. ‘I’ll have you know I was going at that speed for a reason.’

Scott raises his eyebrows and slowly nods. ‘And that reason would be…?’

I stick my chin in the air, desperate to maintain some dignity. Why does he always have to see me at my worst?

‘Because… I’m in training for something. A marathon, if you must know.’

Oh well, I say to myself, at least that’s half true. If you can call running away from the web of lies I’ve created “training”: I’ve never run a marathon in my life, and I’m not likely to.

‘Ah, so it wasn’t because you cranked the speed up too high and couldn’t find the emergency stop button?’ Scott’s Cheshire cat grin widens.

Damn, I’ve been found out. Not that it’d take Sherlock Holmes to work out I was lying.

‘That may have had something to do with it,’ I admit with a smile. ‘Go on, what gave me away?’

Scott rests his chin on his palm and looks at me from beneath long brown eyelashes. ‘Oh, I don’t know; I reckon it was you yelling “how do you stop this thing?!” or the terrified look on your face. No offence, but I don’t really see you as a marathon runner.’

It’s a throwaway remark I know has no harm behind it, but it hits me right where it hurts. I try for a smile and fail miserably.

‘I know,’ I say, gesturing at the round belly poking against my lavender workout vest. ‘More like a sumo wrestler, eh?’

Scott frowns. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Well, I’m hardly a Victoria’s Secret model, am I?’ My second attempt at a smile is more successful. ‘The only thing you’d see me running for is a special offer on cake at the café in Silverdale!’

To my surprise, Scott doesn’t join in with my laughing. He tilts his head to one side and looks at me as though he can’t quite work me out. I’m not used to this. Whenever I make a joke out of my weight – usually because I think someone else will first – they end up laughing along and the situation’s defused.

‘I get it,’ Scott says, folding his arms and nodding. ‘This is one of those things where you think I’m going to make fun of your weight, so you do it first. Like a defence mechanism.’

I can’t stop my mouth from dropping open. Although it doesn’t seem like he’s judging me, I suddenly feel uncomfortable and exposed. It’s as though Scott can see right through me, and I don’t like it.

‘Aren’t you overstepping your mark as a gym trainer?’ I go over to a set of kettlebells and pick one up, like I have a clue what to do with it. ‘Or do you have a sideline as a psychologist?’

I feel bad for being prickly towards him, but the last thing I need to do is talk about my insecurities with a guy I barely know. I haphazardly swing the kettlebell, which is heavier than I thought, and nearly topple myself over with the force I put into it. Scott jumps up and puts his hands on my waist to steady me before I fall backwards. I turn round to face him and feel my cheeks heat up. He drops his hands from my waist and sighs, his face breaking out into a lopsided grin.

‘You really need a personal trainer, you know.’ He chuckles and shakes his head. ‘Anyway, to answer your question, no, I don’t have a sideline as a psychologist. I just noticed how quick you were to jump in with a joke about looking like a sumo wrestler. Which, by the way, you definitely don’t. You thought I was going to make fun of you, didn’t you?’

I feel my nostrils flare Amanda-style and try to stop myself. No way do I want to be anything like her. At first, I think about telling Scott he’s wrong, but from the way he’s looking at me, I know he won’t buy it.

‘Yeah, I guess I did,’ I admit. I stop just short of admitting that people have made fun of my weight for years. That’s crossing the line into too much information.

‘Well, I wasn’t. I was actually going to say that, from the look of sheer panic on your face when you picked up a bit of speed, I guessed you weren’t a natural runner.’

My cheeks burn even more and I drop my gaze to the floor tiles. ‘Well, I might not be a natural runner, but I’m an expert at jumping to conclusions! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to jump the gun.’

Scott smiles and waves a hand dismissively. ‘Forget about it, it’s over and done with. I don’t think this will overstep my mark as a gym trainer…’ He pauses and grins as he parrots what I’ve just said to him. ‘But since you seem to attract trouble in every area of the gym, why don’t we do a workout together? Nothing complicated, just some cardio and weights and maybe some core if we have time at the end. I’m not sure you should be let loose in the gym on your own just yet.’

I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. Although Scott hasn’t asked me out on a date – helping people in the gym is his job – I don’t feel confident enough to accept his offer. I’m already doing something that scares me by going to the reunion and, although this would help me conquer my body issues, the thought of working out one-on-one with Scott terrifies me. What if I make a complete fool of myself again? What if he sees things about me I’d rather keep hidden? What if, as I’m pushing my body to its limits, I end up exposing everything I don’t like about myself for him to see?

That’s too many what ifs for my liking.

‘I… I can’t today, sorry. M-maybe another time, though.’ The words stumble out of my mouth and I hate how stupid I sound.

Scott digs into his pocket and pulls out a small white card. ‘My contact details are on there. Whenever you’re ready to book a session, just give me a call and we’ll arrange something.’

He presses it onto my palm and our hands touch for a brief second. My stomach does a funny little flip that I try very hard to ignore.

‘Thanks for this.’ I smile and stick the card in my purse. ‘I-I’d love to have a session with you.’

Oh balls.

‘Would you? Very interesting!’ Scott laughs and strokes his stubble.

I try to style out my double entendre with a chuckle and rub the back of my neck. ‘A gym session, I mean, not a… I-I’d better get going!’

I take off in the direction of the changing rooms as fast as I can, wondering if I’ve embarrassed myself enough to warrant joining another gym.

*

Meeting Emma for a post-workout bite to eat makes a complicated day a thousand times worse. Not least because the subject of speed-dating is brought up.

‘It’s a really good idea,’ she says, pointing her fork at me. ‘You could find a ridiculously hot date to take to the reunion, and your new bucket list says you want to let yourself fall in love. You could kill two birds with one stone by going to the speed-dating event at the pub next week. Come on, it’ll be fun!’

‘I dunno, Emma, I’ve never fancied the idea of speed-dating; it all seems a bit impersonal. I really want to tick off stuff on my new bucket list, but I don’t think speed-dating’s going to help with the whole falling in love thing.’

Emma grunts in frustration. ‘How do you know unless you try? You might meet the love of your life for all you know! He could walk into the room, sit down at your table and bam! You’re getting a joint bank account and picking out kids’ names before you know it.’

I roll my eyes and laugh. ‘You know, I’d love to live in the world you live in. Everything’s so simple! You watch way too many romantic comedies, you know that, right?’

‘You’ve got me there,’ Emma agrees. ‘All jokes aside, we’ll have loads of fun if we go to this thing together. I mean, can you imagine the kind of blokes who’ll turn up to a speed-dating event in Silverdale? It’ll be a laugh if nothing else.’

‘OK,’ I say with a sigh, ‘I’ll do it. I’m not buying all that “you’ll find the love of your life” stuff, but it’ll be interesting to see who turns up!’

Emma’s face breaks out into a beaming grin, and she starts babbling excitedly about how much fun it’ll be. As I listen to her, I stop for a moment to process what’s happened over the last few days. I’ve made a bucket list, agreed to go to a school reunion, and now I’m going speed-dating. I almost don’t recognise myself. The Cleo who stayed hidden in the shadows and watched other people have fun is a thing of the past. For the first time in over a decade, I’m opening myself up to new possibilities and adventures.

Who knows what will happen next?