Lindsy
Because of Megan's proposal, Matthew and I are the only two people in the gym this evening. I'm swinging my arms back and forth at a weight machine while he works out on one of the punching bags.
I try not to look at him, but it's difficult when we're training so close together. He's so focused and in control, and his gaze is fixed on the bag as he pounds it with his fists. I'd be struggling to breathe if that were me, but he's barely breaking a sweat.
It's as if we're in two different worlds, according to him. He never acknowledges my presence—as it's if he doesn't exist. Despite the fact that I should be grateful, it irritates me a little. I'm used to being the center of attention, to guys lining up to talk to me; I'm not used to being ignored.
My stomach sinks as I recall
