Four days have passed since I first arrived.
The workouts have gotten more grueling, and they're taking a toll on my mental and physical health. I convince myself I can keep going, but that voice chanting "Haha, you suck!" tends to overpower it most of the time.
I sigh as I pick up my phone, going through missed notifications. A FaceTime call pops up, and I realize it's Poppy on the line.
I click accept and her face appears on the screen, her normally bright eyes drooping slightly at the corners and a dull purple sheen hanging beneath them.
"Whitney!" she exclaims once she sees me, waving at me through the camera. "I'm happy you answered. I've been dying to talk to you!"
"Hey, Poppy!" I respond with a smile. "What's going on? Is it the wedding?"
She nods slowly, rubbing her forehead with her hand. "Levi's parents came," she blurts. From her anxious tone, it doesn't sound good.
"Oh myâwhat happened?"
She sighs and runs a hand through her blondish hair. "Let's just say our mom and Levi's mom... don't like each other. At all. You know, as if I needed more problems with Mom."
"Like how bad?" I ask.
"Like insulting each other every time they are in sight of each other?"
"Yikes." I cringe at the mental picture. "What about Levi's dad?"
"Oh Dave? He and Dad act like long lost friends. Dad showed him the golf course at the country club, and they've spent every afternoon there."
"Well, that's good," I respond. But that isn't much of a surprise since Dad has always preferred the country club over spending time at home.
"Yeah, but I'm so anxious about all the planning. I don't know how to calm down."
"Hey, hey," I say, "it's still only June. I'm sure they'll be able to reach a compromise soon."
"God, I hope. Levi's mom is one stubborn ass bitch sometimes."
"Poppy," I sat. "Why are you diving so quickly into the idea of a wedding? Don't you think it's a bit soon?"
"I mean, we've been together for four years, so I don't see why a wedding is that unrealistic," she replies, adjusting her position on her bed. "And I mean, Nana married Grandpa after, like, four months, so this can't be that bad."
"Yeah, but that was like 1960, Poppy."
"What's the difference?" she jokes, waving her hand against the air. I forgot she even had this weird sense of humor, but it makes me smile like a dork. "I just don't wanna be one of those couples that are like forty and still dating, you know? I'm ready to tie the knot, so you bet I'm gonna do it. Mom can't get in the way of every fucking thing I do."
"I admire your determination, to be honest. I can hardly motivate myself to get out of bed here sometimes."
"Speaking of that, how is everything? Is the camp meeting your expectations?"
I sigh, stretching out my sore legs. "It's exhausting. And my trainer...he's not exactly the sympathetic type."
"Ooh," she muses, coming closer to the camera. "Is he hot?" She makes a weird, sexy face, and I gag at her.
"Hotness isn't everything, but to answer your question, very."
"Details, Whitney, this could be your second relationship!" she replies with a mischievous smirk.
Do I have to think of the first? "Fine, he's tall, at least six-foot-two. And he has dark hair and these amazing hazel-golden eyes. But his personality kills his looks."
"What do you mean?"
"He's so strict sometimes. And he's constantly telling me to 'use my mind.' I use my brain enough; I'm here to move my body."
"So he's the metaphorical type?" she asks. "He probably has a dark backstory or some shit. Ugh, now this sounds like this trashy book I read in high school. Actually, I think it's somewhere on my bookshelf." She gets distracted as she walks across her childhood room, thumbing through the shelves on the wall.
I chuckle and shake my head. "I'd try to find out what this 'backstory' is, Poppy, but he's not much of a conversationalist."
"Shame," she responds wryly. "I'll be waiting for whenever you figure it out!"
"I'll try. I have to go now or I'll miss my sacred workout. Talk to you another time!"
"Bye!" she exclaims, and the call ends. I put away my phone and walk to the mirror to fix my ponytail. As I pull some loose strands out of my face, I notice a small piece of paper on my dresser, folded in fourths. I pick it up and examine the back before opening it up.
You know you're a bitch, it reads. I crinkle my forehead.
It's signed with an X.
X?
I should be frightened, but I hate to say that the first thing I think of is what level of poor creativity do you have to have to sign a note with an X?
After a few moments of mulling over the paper, I give up, taking the piece and shoving it in the corner of my makeup bag. I'll definitely be thinking about this later.
I exit my dorm room and shut the door, looking behind me when I hear a noise up the hall. A few seconds later, Willow steps out of her room, her eyes darting my way. We stop for a moment and stare at each other, a stalemate of silence.
She gives me a small smile and waves before walking away.
Strange.
I walk outside into the warm but cloudy weather and find Axel leaning against one of the oak trees, his large muscular arms crossed firmly on his chest. I approach him slowly. He glances at me once I'm there, once again not even a proper greeting. I don't bother giving him one either.
"We're heading to the beach," he says, beginning a jog. In a few seconds, I've raced ahead of him.
That's the funny thing about running: it's all about endurance. Keep practicing, you get better. I've almost gotten it down to a science.
Operative word: almost.
I peek at him with the corner of my eye, noticing how his lips are pressed into a thin line and his eyes are not focused on the path ahead. Suddenly, he's feet ahead of me, rounding the corner to the entrance of the private beach. He stops and turns around as I jog faster.
"Today we're doing something different," he says, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Follow me." I do, and he leads me close to the shoreline, where the sand is firmer and darker, and rolls out a mat.
"Get down into a plank position," he orders. I stare at him first before slowly lowering to the ground and adjusting my arms and feet the right way.
He crouches down, his face in front of my own. "Friendly note: your form sucks."
I bashfully lower my butt and feel the strain on my abdominals. I grimace.
"Better," he responds, and I feel like slapping him. That would be justified, right? "Now I want you to hold a plank for as long as you possibly can. But this time not as long as your body can, as long as your mind can."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I grumble, still mad he insulted me.
"It means not to be a baby and give up the second your muscles start to hurt."
I let out a long breath and flex my lower arms to keep myself in position. This is proving to be more difficult than I thought. My hair is sticking to the back of my neck, and my face is probably tomato red. Every muscle in my lower and upper body is straining to keep me up, and I have to let out a few deep breaths to not collapse onto the ground.
Axel is standing in front of me, using his phone as a stopwatch.
"Giving up yet, Whitney?" he questions, noticing my quivering abs.
"No." The lie slips off my lips. Every inch of me wants to collapse.
"Really?" he asks, coming closer to my face. I bite the inside of my lip and try not to look straight at him. My whole body is shaking and my abdominals feel like they are on fire.
"I give up!" I fall onto the sand in a heap of defeat.
"Fifty-three seconds, Whitney," he says, looking up from his phone. "Are you happy with that?"
"Yes, no. Well, yes?" I say, sitting up and leaning my head onto my knees. "Hell, I don't know, Axel."
"Try it again," he answers.
My head snaps up. "What?"
"You're not deaf, Whitney. Do it." He resets his clock and walks backwards.
"Fine," I snap with forced confidence.
What feels like ages later I finally fall down, my body unable to take it anymore. I look up at Axel and his expression is unreadable.
"Ninety seconds exactly."
My jaw drops. "Seriously?"
"Look for yourself, if you want to," he responds, showing me his phone. After handing it back to him, he reaches a hand out and pulls me up.
"Now what?"
"Now we run."
"All we do is run. I know this is a fitness camp, but all I have heard is 'Let's run' or 'Hurry up already and run.' I mean come on, we're interacting like robots."
He sighs, adjusting the silver necklace he is wearing. "Whitney, I'm not here to become friends with you."
My slightly hopeful expression falls, and I look down at the sand. "Okay, that's fine," I answer, trying not to let my disappointment show. He notices and takes a step forward.
"Never mind, you can ask me something if you want."
"Do you have some interesting story?" I ask and then realize exactly how weird that sounds. I clear my throat and to make it less awkward, add, "I mean, fitness-wise maybe. Yeah."
"What are you even talking about?"
"I mean, do you have some inspirational tale that led you to where you are now?" When he continues to blankly stare at me, I add, "Okay, maybe I just spend way too much time on fitness blogs."
"I don't do sob stories, Whitney."
"That's not what I'm insinuating."
"My childhood wasn't the greatest and then life turned around and got a little better. Good enough answer for you?" he says, his jaw clenching.
"I suppose," I reply. "Is that all you're going to say?"
"I don't like to talk about it."
"Okay, I'll respect that," I answer. He looks up surprised.
"You're the first person not to prod me for more information," he says, continuing to walk. "What a relief." He looks at my face. "Now what about you? The only thing I know is that you give up on yourself too easily."
"Unnecessary," I mutter. "But fine, what do you want to know?"
"About your background. Where you come from, what's your life like, anything really."
"Well, I grew up in New York where life was vibrant and exciting. Then, at eight, we moved to Connecticut where everything is so...peaceful. It's nice, I guess."
"Do you have any siblings?"
"An older sister."
"I have a younger brother," he says, finally giving me an actual piece of information.
"Really, how old?" I ask.
"Fifteen. And your sister?"
"Twenty-two."
We continue talking for a little bit, sharing a few more details about our lives and even laughing a few times, before beginning our run back. I keep stealing glances at him the whole time, for once seeing that maybe there is a friendly person hidden beneath his cold, hard exterior.