I’d lived it, lost weight, felt great, but in no universe could I see a reason to exercise at every available opportunity unless you were mentally unstable. I understood his healthy lifestyle ethos. If he wasn’t, reaching over the desk to grab her arse when he thought no one was looking had been way inappropriate.Įventually, he jogged over towards me. He didn’t hurry, despite acknowledging my presence, likely because he was sleeping with her. I waited for him by the vending machines until he’d finished his conversation with the super-fit blonde behind the desk. To the surprise of absolutely no one, my legs worked perfectly fine and managed to carry me through another shower and change of clothes before meeting back with Zac in the gym lobby. I wasn’t a fan of the whole cancel culture thing but, if I’d been my own friend, I would sure as shit have cancelled me by now.

I was beginning to detest my own company.

Sitting up, I literally shook the negative thoughts from my head and dragged my bum to the changing rooms. I could’ve kissed them, the knees, a few weeks ago, until a few too many cakes and burgers pumped the tyre under my boobs back up.Įnough. My body had given up, fallen forwards of its own accord until my lips were inches from my knees. Laughing at the torment he’d inflicted, Zac threw the towel at my face. “I just need five minutes, maybe years, to recover.” “Sure,” I agreed, though I didn’t quite know how I was supposed to get changed given that my legs felt like they’d never move again. “You won’t get to play that card forever,” he said, exposing his gigantic, caring heart. “With how pessimistic you’ve been lately, if it’s gonna happen to anyone it’ll be you.” I looked up at him through the corner of my eye. I’m almost certain no one’s ever bled to death on the leg press.” “Well done! You aced that,” Zac said, handing me my water, which I took without a smile. I…hate…you! “Whew! Done.” I let my legs flop to the floor, leaned forward and waited for death to claim me. “Think it’s…possible…for your muscles…to rip so…ugh!” Damn, talking was difficult when death from exhaustion was only seconds away.

Friends didn’t hurt friends, and they especially didn’t derive pleasure from it. Seventy-eight hours, or, possibly one hour, later, Zac had me working the leg press and I decided, in that moment, I didn’t want to be friends anymore.

Who We Are by Nicola Haken