Bookworms | ✔

thirty-four

Nicholas dragged his sore limbs to a nearby weight bench, breaths coming out in short pants, cheeks tinted in a dark red to prove his need for air. The sharp pain vibrated through his muscles as he attempted to stretch. A deep chuckle caught Nicholas's attention. 

"Shut up," he mumbled. 

Humaid squatted down with a heavy weight set on both sides of his barbell, bending his knees with a straight back. "Come on, Nick," he strained out, holding his position before rising up again. "You were doing so well."

Nicholas glared. "I officially renounce our friendship."

The typical college gym was filled with men flexing at every opportunity to boast their muscle mass to the ladies, where women would occasionally send a flirty wink their way, and teasing the men through their walks, adding an extra sway to the hips. Nicholas almost swore that he saw the guy beside them drool. 

Surprisingly, Humaid had managed to focus only on his workout, evening his breathing through mental alerts. Dark gray spots began to wet his silver t-shirt, the material clinging to his well-defined pectorals and abdomen. The rigged planes of his sculpted body tensed and flexed under the massive effort of his workout. Humaid's midnight black hair dripped with excess sweat, the body's reaction to the sudden heat from exercising. Nicholas felt his own blonde hair mirror his friend's. 

"Why would you be so cruel?" asked Humaid, voice infused with jest. Squatting, he struggled to maintain his grin through the burning of torn muscles. "Come... on."

"Never again," opposed Nicholas, still struggling to breathe. "I feel the lactic acid building."

Humaid's chest rumbled with laughter, standing back up. "Just breathe, sport," he smiled.

"Explain to me how, dear friend. This is not proper aerobic breathing!"

Putting his set of weight back, Humaid began his stretches, tan skin glistening with dampness. A slick sheen layered upon his skin, face becoming flushed after a tedious workout with hardly any breaks. Nicholas had no idea how he managed to keep up such a rigorous routine. Humaid smoothed his hair backwards to prevent any distractions. 

"When you workout, there's a certain trick to breathing," he said, pulling his left arm over his head. "Before entering the most difficult part of the workout, you inhale. For example, my squats. I inhaled before bending my knees, and when I got back up I exhaled."

"I did."

"You're panting like a dog, man. You probably didn't take deep breaths, hence the reason why you claim a lactic acid build up."

Nicholas's brows furrowed. "How do you know all this?" he asked, wiping some of the sweat with a small, white towel. 

He lifted his right arm over his head this time, pulling gently on the limb. "I'm a med student here. This information is literally shoved into my brain on a daily," chuckled Humaid. 

"Wait, what?" he questioned, cerulean eyes widening at the revelation. "Are you and Haroon med students? What year are you in? I thought you were my age."

Humaid shook his head, focusing on his legs and calves. "Nah, I'm a couple years your senior. Actually this is my second year in medical school. I don't have to pay much because of my scholarships."

Nicholas was truly astounded. "How do you even have time for college football if you're a med student? You must be insane, Humaid."

"I swear I'm not," he grinned. "I don't play as intensively for football anymore, but I still like to play it every once in a while. If it makes you feel better, Haroon thinks I'm crazy too."