Extra Credit | Complete

35

Lincoln

The whirring of an electric guitar shredded through the weight room. Music pulsated through me, helping me drown out my thoughts and focus on bicep curls. The metal of the equipment was no longer cold against my skin. I was holding onto it for so long that it lost its chill, causing my hands to sweat. I had turned up the dial on the stereo after Dante had left. I had somehow roped him into spotting me for most of the day. Now I was left without one, forcing me away from the chest presses that I had been torturing myself with.

The muscles in my arms were screaming at me to stop and call it quits for the day, but I knew that if I did I would be left to think about everything that had happened that morning all over again. I didn't need to give myself time to change my mind. I had come to the decision that my mother was right. Cali didn't belong in my world. I couldn't ruin her like it had ruined me. The thought of letting her go cut me deep, but I couldn't be selfish. Not with her.

The dumbbell dropped down on the rubber mats, my hands searing in pain. I allowed myself to sit on the bench for a moment, funnelling air into my nose as if I had been drowning. Maybe I wasn't in the literal sense of the word, but mentally I was at my wits end.

As I was making the decision to head back out to the treadmill the music in the room switched off. I turned my head to look at the door to the weight room. Andrew stood by the stereo, hand still on the knob. He grinned at me with his usual obnoxious smile, a white plastic bag dangled at his side.

"You plan on being here all night?" Andrew asked, stepping over a few weights I hadn't bothered to rack.

I grunted a response, waiting for my legs to feel normal again before attempting to stand up. Running on the treadmill probably wasn't in the cards tonight. I'd hit the bag instead.

"Something told me I'd find you here." The bag Andrew had been holding appeared on the bench beside me. "I brought you the usual since you didn't answer me. I'd eat the fries before they get soggy."

The smell of fried food hit me square in the face. My stomach rumbled in approval. What I would give to stuff myself with a burger and fries. But if I had learned anything over the last few days, it was that my self-control was dwindling. I had been giving into temptation in all aspects of my life. That needed to change.

"Thanks," I muttered. I couldn't even look at the bag beside me.

Andrew stood there, leading against a squat rack. "How long have you been in here?"

I rubbed the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. "A while."

Like all fucking day.

I had been at the gym since 6:45 that morning, working on Whitmore's hellish cardio. Each day of the week had its focus. If it were any other day, I would have been working on arms and back. Instead, it turned into a cluster-fuck of everything—legs, back, shoulders, arms. Dante thought I was absolutely fucked. He wasn't too far off. I was going to be in a world of hurt. But that's what I had been hoping for.

I hadn't stopped—which, come to think of it, was probably why my legs felt like overcooked spaghetti noodles. There were no breaks unless I was spotting for Dante or some other guys around the gym. But the weight room had been my sanctuary. When I was there, nothing else existed.

Andrew examined me, bronze eyes raking over me from head to toe. I cleared my throat, trying to act as if the conversation I had with my mother never happened. "I need to get some sparing in. Suit up?" I asked, placing my hands on my knees and pushing myself to stand.

"Yeah, no," Andrew said, a heavy hand landing on my shoulder. "You're not doing anything else tonight. Sit your ass down."

The invitation might have been more well received if my legs didn't tremble. I couldn't fight it. As if on their own accord, my legs bent until I was sitting back on the bench.