When my session is over, I hurry home. Caroline has left a note that her shoes are in my room. I make a peanut butter sandwich and eat it while I search my dresser drawers for workout clothes. I tried yoga a year ago as a form of relaxation and while it worked, I had trouble finding time when I was alone in the apartment to do it. I was too self-conscious to do it around Caroline.
So what makes me think I can run with Tucker? In front of people? My hands are shaking as I tie Caroline’s shoes, and I sit on the side of the bed, sucking in air.
I can’t do this, which is stupid and makes me more upset, which increases my anxiety. I consider canceling, but I realize I don’t have Tucker’s phone number, and the responsible part of me would never leave him there wondering where I am. I lie down on the bed and try to relax, using guided imagery to settle down. When I try to envision running on the track with Tucker, my mind can’t go there. For one thing, I’m too anal to imagine a place I’ve never been. And for another, I simply can’t picture Tucker working out with me.
I finally get myself under control and drive to campus. The grounds are dark when I pull into the parking lot, but I’ve never felt unsafe here, one of several reasons I picked Southern. Still, I’m careful as I walk toward the brightly lit fitness center. I’ve been in college for two and a half years and never entered that building, but I know it’s divided into two sections. One for the student athletes, and the other for the general student population. It never occurred to me to ask Tucker which side. One more thing to worry about.
It’s a needless concern. Tucker is standing in the lobby, waiting, with a duffel bag over his shoulder. He smiles when he sees me. “I was worried you’d chicken out.”
“I almost did.” Why am I always compelled to tell him the truth?
“I’m glad you didn’t.” The weird thing is he really looks happy.
He opens the door to the general student body side and waits for me to enter. I’m relieved. I’ll make enough of a fool of myself without doing it in front of trained athletes.
Tucker sets his bag down on the side of the indoor running track. Leaning over, he pulls out two water bottles and hands me one. “It’s important to stay hydrated.”
I nod and take a drink.
“I’m not sure how much physical exercise you’ve gotten lately, so I decided to start as though you’re a beginner.”
My eyebrows lift. “Is it that obvious?”
He cocks his head to the side with an ornery look. “Is that a trick question where there is no right answer?”
I laugh. “Probably.”
“Then I plead the fifth.”
“Smart man.”
“Interesting choice of words.” He teases. “You may be smarter with algebraic equations, but I know about running. You’re in my territory now.”
Something about his wording sets off a buzz in my stomach, but it quickly ebbs away. This is a totally friendly venture. I’m amazed how relaxed I am. I expected to be a nervous wreck, and while my nerves are on edge, it’s only a twinge. Why? I’m in an unfamiliar situation that sets off all my trigger points, but I’m comfortable. Is it because of the activity or who I’m with? Before I can puzzle it out, Tucker takes the bottle from my hand and sets both on the ground.
“Let’s get started.”
“Do we need to stretch?”
“You don’t want to stretch cold muscles. We’ll stretch when we’re done.”
“Oh.” This is no big deal, but I hate not knowing things. My stomach tightens.
“Scarlett.” Tucker’s voice is soothing, and I look up into his face. “Breathe. For once, you don’t have to know everything. Let me be in charge, and you just do what I say.”
Does he know what he’s asking from me? I inhale a gulp of air and stare into his eyes. Strangely enough, I think he does.
“The goal here is for you use your body to relax you, not just your mind. Okay?”
I nod.
“Good. Now I know how driven you are, but it’s important to not push yourself. Not your first time or two. Otherwise you’ll overdo it, and this will be counterproductive.”
I take another breath and nod.
“I’m going to be watching you closely, but I know you hate people to watch you, so I wanted to warn you.”
How much of me does he actually see?
He senses my unease and looks into my eyes. “You have to trust me. Okay?”
Trust. There’s that word again. I do trust him, but this is still hard. I nod. “But won’t other people watch me?”
“Everyone else is busy with their own workout. They’re not going to pay attention to you.” He grins. “Not unless you start running like Forrest Gump.”
His answer makes me laugh, and I find myself relaxing a bit.
“We’re going to start out walking first, then work our way up to a run. The walk will warm up your muscles.” He starts walking, and I stay beside him, trying to match my strides to his. Someone approaches from behind us, jogging at a brisk pace, and we move to the side, walking a quarter of the track in silence. I’m concentrating on my breathing and my strides, trying to find equilibrium for the two.
He turns toward me. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
My stomach clenches. “A younger sister.”
“Why are you tensing up?”
“What?” My head jerks toward him.