Priory // h.s.

chapter fifteen

It's not till next Saturday that I learn a new fact about Priory: there's an indoor gym. I find this out when Jillian comes into our apartment sweaty and red-faced, clad in shorts and a sports bra. "Did you honestly just go for a run? It's boiling outside," I comment.

Jillian eyes me as if I'm a mere curiosity to be looked at beneath a microscope, taking in my Donald Duck pajamas, fuzzy oversized slippers, and lopsided bun of tangled hair. Her lips quirk up at the corner, and she shakes her head at me, pausing to guzzle a long drink of water before replying, "Hell no, Amber. You couldn't pay me to run in this summer heat. I was down at the gym."

I lean forward and snag a pretzel off the bag laying on the coffee table. "What gym?"

 Snatching away the bag of pretzels, Jillian demands, "How the hell do you stay so skinny? You don't do anything except eat."

"And work," I chime in, eyeing my thighs speculatively--which is hard, because they're encased in the baggy folds of my PJs. "Plus, I'm not skinny at all."

She sighs. "The gym's down in the basement."

I blink. "We have a basement?"

Jillian groans, yanking her hair out of its ponytail and fanning her neck. "Yes, yes we do. Usually the gym would be located on the uppermost floor, but since that's where Lab 3 is, Damon put it in the basement instead. It's free for all Priory Inc. employees."

"Why can't they have like... a free buffet or something? You know, a place I actually would visit," I mumble, making a dive for the pretzels.

Deftly yanking the bag of salty snacks out of my reach, my friend winks at me. "Don't knock it till you try it, Amber."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I eye the bag of pretzels greedily.

"It means," she says, going into her bedroom and coming out with a spare set of shorts, "that you're going to come work out with me."

You've got to be kidding me.

 —

Five minutes later, we're taking the elevator down to the basement floor of Priory. I've got my chestnut hair yanked into a high ponytail, and I'm dressed in a pair of tiny navy shorts and a white tank top.

On the outside, I look like I work out every day. One would never guess that my idea of exercise is getting up to grab the TV remote, or scaling a one-story flight of stairs. 

"Jil-ian," I whine. "I don't want to do this."

"Amber, you know exercise is part of keeping healthy," she scolds. 

The doors of the lift open, and we step out into a white-walled room. Heavy-duty weight-training equpiment lines every wall, and a rubber track circles the middle of the floor. It's astonishingly big for an indoor gym, I have to admit. 

Clearly at home in these surroundings, Jillian says, "Look, the place is almost empty. Only a few people will witness you making a fool of yourself."

"Are you insinuating that I will make a fool of yourself?"

A steady, knowing look.

"Yeah, I'm gonna make a fool of myself."

We spend about twenty minutes walking around the gym. Jillian explains to me how to work each piece of equipment, and I basically just bombard her with useless questions.

"What if the weight falls on your head?"

"What the heck is that contraption?"

"Why does that thing look like a torture machine?"