The Prophesied Claim

Gym Rats and Yoga Pants

I have the entire weekend to worry about what to do about my self-created situation with Alec. My usually calm, driven self is nearly made nuts from stress before making the decision to spend the weekend at the gym. Pulling on what I hope are thick enough leggings to avoid flashing anyone in downward dog, I drive the few blocks to the gym. I spend an hour running on a treadmill like I'm being chased by a pack of wild hyenas, then beat the s**t out of a heavy bag in a boxing class. Wrung out and hurting, finally feeling a bit of mental stability, I use an empty studio room to stretch.

I'm absorbed in the moment, flowing through a series of poses, tipping over into plow when I hear what is becoming a too familiar voice outside the studio door. And I have nowhere to hide. In that moment, ass in the air, I try to find a way to conceal my presence, maybe blend into the wooden floor. I seriously consider the benefits of wearing a hijab. I could just wrap my face up and no one would even know who I was. Like a ninja, I'd be super secretive and stealthy.

Considering my options, I army crawl along the floor like a moron and slide up the woodwork beside the glass wall facing the main gym floor. No longer able to hear Alec's voice, I risk peeking a glance out the window. He's nowhere in sight. Hastily, I pull open the studio door and rush out, where my attempt at anonymity is immediately ruined.

"Oh. My. God. Sirena?!" the most annoying voice I'm sure I've ever heard is fairly screeching with excitement.

I try to feign interest in the bouncing brunette who for real sashays her way across at least fifty feet of gym floor to stand in front of me. She's short, wearing sequined spandex and the tiniest crop top I've ever seen. I tower over her like an sss in my sweaty tank and boring black leggings. Swiping at a sweaty piece of hair that's escaped my haphazard ponytail, I feel clunky and gross. The man trailing behind her has his eyes trained on her ass, a muscle shirt, and the tightest basketball shorts I've ever seen. Charles. Because why not make the day worse.

I want to vomit. That plastic smile pastes itself onto my face,"Tracy. Charles. How nice to see you? I hope you're both well."

There. That sounded like a normal greeting.

Tracy swings her hand up and shoves a giant diamond in my face. She fairly dances with glee as she continues to shake her hand, wiggles her fingers, and giggles, "We're getting married! Isn't that just the most exciting thing you've ever heard. Oh. My. God. Sirena. You've got to be in the wedding. Like, got to be."

She's probably the size of a leprechaun, but I have the sudden urge to push her off a very tall building when she stops her litany of what I must do, pauses, and in a sudden voice of sympathy asks, "Oh, are you here by yourself? Did you come alone?"

I have no idea what I would've said in response to her sympathetic inquiry, because I feel an arm slide around my waist, pulling me tightly into a chest I'd still like to climb all over. I look up into eyes that are dancing with amusement and feel like jumping off a tall building myself.

Alec plants a quick kiss on my upturned mouth, initiates just a hint of tongue, then feigns surprise as he takes in the two people in front of me, "Babe, these kids from school? Haven't met many yet. Introduce me."

That quickly, Alec dismisses their importance. I want to giggle in the same ridiculous fashion as Tracy. I turn into him, letting his palm slide from my waist to the crease between my butt and thigh. "Let's see. This is Tracy. We grew up together. Went to college together. Then, there's Charles. We were engaged. Hmmm." I pause to smile up at Alec, "Until I found them f*****g. Isn't that right?" I question Charles, who'd remained silent until now.

Charles seems like he wants to say something, but his mouth just kind of opens and stays that way. Hanging. No words.

Alec shrugs, intertwining his fingers with mine and tugs, "So, not students. Right. Wanna shower and get lunch?" he leans in rubbing his shadowed jaw on my cheek, "or we could go home and shower. You could be lunch."

I laugh at his cool appraisal of their importance, his ability to remand them to worth less time than thoughts of food, and his startling ability to convey that I've both moved on from the drama of Charles and Tracy, and am in a serious relationship with someone else. Someone not at the gym in a muscle shirt and overly fitted basketball shorts.

"Let's order in," I agree, starting to walk away, ignoring the two pairs of eyes staring at us. I hear spluttering, and can't resist, "Oh, Tracy. I don't think it's good luck to wear someone else's engagement ring. Might want to trade it in on a new one." I wiggle my fingers in her general direction, listening to a screech begin to gain volume.

"Feel better?" Alec asks as we descend the stairs to the main floor.

"Maybe. It's true though. Bad voodoo. Wouldn't want to start their marriage with that kind of karma."

Alec snorts, "I'm starting to think you're a bit bloodthirsty. First you go on a date to a dive bar where said date gets the s**t kicked out of him while you eat his fries, then you wreak havoc at the gym" He shakes his head.

I hiss, "At least I'm not stalking you. You just keep showing up everywhere I seem to be. Here I am, minding my own business, and you just show up. Again. Are you just following me around to see what giant fuckup I get into next?"

He shrugs, "Had no idea you were such a problem child. This a new thing for you, cuz it sounds like you're pretty used to it?"

"I am not a problem child!" my voice is possibly reaching the screeching level of Tracy's, but I'm sweaty and gross, once again at my worst in front of quite possibly the hottest man to ever wear sweatpants and a faded t-shirt at the gym.

The cuff of his shirtsleeves are stretched tautly over the bulge of his biceps, and I can't decide if I want to run my tongue over the groove of those muscles or punch him in the face. And it must show all over my face because his intense green eyes clash with my mutinous ones and a grin starts to form.

I hmph at his expression and try to shrug past him to the locker rooms, "I need to shower and change."

"Pretty sure you didn't bring s**t with you Sirena. Your keys are sticking out of your pocket."

"Fine. I'm going home."

"How about Chinese food?"