Page 114 of These Secret Years

“You still with that girl?”

Of course he knew Chelsea. I met her freshman year.

“We’re not together anymore, but we’re still friends. Still in the same house.”

“Oh, I think I’ve heard about your house.”

My stomach drops, and my face warms. “Yeah. Maybe worst kept secret on campus.”

I’m saved from having to say any more with the appearance of the professor who launches right into a detailed explanation of the course syllabus. I balk when he gets to the end and tells us to write down three health or fitness goals.

“What the fuck is this?” I ask. “P.E.?”

Deandre snorts, which isn’t helpful. It takes all my mental strength not to ask him to trade places with me so I can be next to Knight and have him tell me what to write.

“I don’t know what to put,” I mumble.

“You want to gain twenty pounds of muscle,” D says. “That’s what you want.”

“Ouch.”

“Unless you like this look you’ve got going.”

I write down the goal down for lack of anything else to put, thinking goals are bullshit anyway. Underneath it, I write, “eat more protein.”

“Put go to the gym with D twice a week.”

I almost snort, relieved he’s not taking this seriously either. The athletes train in a special facility I don’t have access to. But then he says, “Tuesdays and Thursdays work best for me.”

“We don’t have to actually do these,” I tell him.

Knight leans forward, having heard that, and catches my eye. “You don’t want to work out with us?”

“Us?” I’m frowning and looking at the professor before I glance back down at my paper and then over at Knight again.

“One lower body day, one upper body day. It’ll help you meet your goal.”

“We don’t have to actually do these,” I say to him again because maybe he didn’t hear me the first time.

And like karma whipping me in the face, the professor announces we need to turn this in as an assignment and keep a log on what we’re doing to achieve our goals over the semester.

“Fuck’s sake.” I go to cross out “go to the gym,” but Deandre stops me.

“Whoa. You’re coming.”

“I can’t work out in your gym,” I remind him. And I wouldn’t want to.

“We have memberships at a regular gym, too. It’s closer to our house, and you’ll like it. It’ll be fun.”

Knight nods, encouraging me to leave the list as it is.

I scowl at him and put my pen down. Then I sit back in my chair. I’ve worked out with Deandre before, but working out with Knight? Jesus fucking Christ. It’s hard to imagine anything more painful.

Chapter Twenty-Five

KNIGHT

Deandre is hauling ass on the treadmill and Sullivan is next to him, keeping a steady 4.2 miles per hour jog. He’s panting, but he’s still talking. I’m not going as fast as D, but I’m definitely moving faster than Sullivan. We’re two weeks into the semester, and this is his fourth time joining us, holding up his end of the bargain he made with my wide receiver.