Girl on Track

12| Hot and steamy

Mom manages to persuade Dad to visit the funfair this weekend. I don't have the heart to tell her I'm too old for cotton candy, so I smile and say I can't wait.

Even Dad seems chipper this morning. He hums while he reads his morning paper, and Mom sings while cooking some eggs. I sit at the table with my notepad and pen, going over my notes from the track. For the first time in a long time, we feel like a family again. 

Dad looks up and says, "Don't tell me you're doing homework on a Saturday. Leave it to Sunday night like everyone else." 

I smile and say, "It's not homework. I'm just making some notes for work." 

Mom turns and places a plate in front of me stacked high with eggs, french toast, and mushrooms. "You know, I'm really impressed with how committed you are to your new job," she says. Her expression grows all sappy, and I know what's coming. "You're just growing up so fast. Soon you'll be going off to college and leaving us behind." 

I roll my eyes. I've heard this speech a thousand times–more.  "I'm sure I'll remember to visit."

She lightly swats me with the hand towel she's holding. "Oh, that's reassuring. Did you hear that, honey? She's sure she'll remember to visit us."

Dad grins and starts to tell me about how he met my mother in college. He'd been studying engineering by day and training by night but somehow still had the energy to 'woo' my mom at a house party. I cover my ears because I don't want to spend my Saturday morning listening to my dad talk about 'wooing' my mom, but it just makes him louder. 

When breakfast is finished, I help Mom to clear up the last of the moving boxes and then head to the gym. My agreement with Tyler means he'll only train me Monday to Friday, so the weekends are mine to do what I want with. 

It's a taxing session, and it only serves to remind me just how unfit I've become since quitting riding. I hadn't known it at the time, but eight months makes all the difference. 

My thighs are aching by the time I'm finished, but it's a good kind of ache, the kind that tells you you've worked hard. It's why I decide to make use of the pool and the sauna while I have them to myself. The kinder I treat my body these next few months, the easier it will be for it to recover.

I'm early enough that I'm the only one here, and it's nice to be able to unwind with my thoughts. I go a few laps in the pool before heading into the steam room, where I breathe in the steam and what smells like eucalyptus. 

At some point, the door swings open. I watch through the steam as Tyler closes the door behind him and takes a seat next to me. Despite the steam, I can still make out his body perfectly, which means he can make mine out, too.

I fold my arms across my stomach and glance at his stomach. He's got the body of someone who lives and breathes the gym. Taut muscles, a hard, brown torso, tree trunk legs. I realize I'm staring and glance at his face, but his eyes are closed as he breathes in the steam. 

He takes in a slow, deliberate breath. "They put the eucalyptus in the steam," he says. "Helps you to breathe better." 

I breathe in, too, focusing on the way the smell tickles my nose. Already I can feel my muscles releasing, and I sink into the bench and close my eyes. 

"Did you hit the gym?" he asks. 

I nod and then realize he can't see me. "I tried to. I didn't realize how much of a difference eight months could make. It's like I'm starting from scratch." 

"It feels that way," he says, "but it's not from scratch. Your body won't take long to adapt when it's done it before. You just need some patience."