Keep Your Frenemies Close

Hannah

Tatum had asked me to meet her at this upscale whiskey bar after work on Thursday. Apparently, the owner was a keto nut and had all kinds of healthy options for happy hour snacks.

I had to admit, I was dying to hear the gossip about Mallory. She had actually been tolerable during my two classes this week.

My calorie burns were way up, and I kept my heart rate in the orange zone most of the time. I was proud that my endurance seemed to be improving.

I had come close to matching Parker's in class the night before and teased him endlessly for slacking.

The only thing that had started bothering me was that Jordan was completely MIA. He hadn't shown up to either workout and wasn't even in the building.

Not that I was looking for him… because I wasn't.

Ty had awkwardly informed me of my training session time on Saturday. He wasn't unfriendly, but he was all business. I never thought I'd admit it, but I preferred flirty Ty.

“Do you come here often?” Tatum's voice startled me out of staring off into space as she took the seat next to me.

“Are you trying to pick me up?” I winked at her.

“Would you be into it?” she raised an eyebrow, and I felt my face flush. I hadn’t gotten the gay vibe off of her, but…

“Calm down,” she laughed. “You’re not my type.”

Her easy laughter at my expense relaxed me a little.

“What’s good here?” I asked as I returned my attention to the menu in my hands.

“The old fashioned. But we could do a tasting flight if you’d like to avoid the sugar.”

“I don’t want to fall too far off the wagon,” I told her as I read the description of what she’d recommended. “I’ve actually been making some progress this week.”

“I gotcha.” She nodded. “Although, as the competition, I should be encouraging you to down some Manhattans to give me an edge.”

“Sneaky.”

“But I guess since you’re on my team”—she sighed with a relaxed smile—“I should keep you on the straight and narrow so we can get that team dinner.”

“Keep your friends close, but your frenemies closer?” I teased.

“I’d like to think you’ll be more of a friend, but who knows?” She smiled at me. “You might be super lame.”

“I would be offended if I wasn’t thinking about the exact same thing.”

We looked through the menu and decided to share a six-whiskey tasting flight. She would take half and I would take half.

“God, this goes down smooth.” She sighed as she took a sip of her first glass.

I grabbed my own glass from the opposite end of the board and mimicked her actions, enjoying the pleasant burn as the liquor filled my mouth and slipped down my throat.

“It does,” I agreed.

“Okay, so your gossip or mine?” She winked as she took another sip and then set her glass down.

“I guess yours. I’m still processing mine and trying to decide if I’m still irritated or not,” I honestly told her, taking a deep breath.

“So Mal and Mol used to be part of a relay team,” she began as she sipped her drink. “They had both been running competitively since they were in middle school.”

That made sense... they were both ridiculously in shape.

“During our junior year at university, there was talk about the two of them getting invitations to try out for the Olympic running team.”

Wow.

“A few months before the trials, Mallory met ‘the love of her life.'”

Her face soured as she said the last part.

“He was an up-and-coming athlete himself, but he wasn’t even close to their talent level. Todd was a real charmer.”

I found myself nodding along as I took slow sips, feeling the alcohol relax me.

“He was also into doping.”

“Oh shit,” I exclaimed quietly.

“Yeah, real charming, right?” she asked sarcastically.

“So before one of the NCAA final meets, he was pulled for a drug test. He started acting really suspicious afterward, but Mallory made all kinds of excuses for him.”

“The night before he was most likely going to be caught, he dragged her to a party.”

This was starting to sound ominous.

“She wasn’t drinking, and he wasn’t supposed to either.” Tatum stopped and sighed. She reached down and finished her glass, swallowing the rest and shuddering as she placed the glass back on the bar top.

“Well, I guess after a few beers, he decided he was going to be caught anyway, so he got a hold of some ecstasy without her knowing,” she growled.

“The douchebag tried to pick a fight with someone for hitting on Mal, but she got him out of there. He insisted he needed to drive, and she didn’t know he was on drugs.”

“She was so blinded by her feelings for him that she didn’t realize he was rapidly spiraling out of control.” She shook her head, her eyes clouded with regret.

“On the way back to her apartment, he ran a red light and got T-boned.”

My glass thumped back to the bar as I looked at the simultaneous resignation and disgust on her face.

“The other car hit them so hard, he was killed on impact, and it pinned Mallory’s side of the car to a utility pole.”

Chills ran down my spine—poor girl.

“Was she okay?” I asked.

Tatum’s head shook, and she gulped more of her whiskey.

“She was hospitalized for major head trauma and a broken femur,” she said sadly. “We weren’t sure she’d ever walk again, much less be able to run.”

“One poor decision as a nineteen-year-old almost killed her and effectively ended her career.”

Oh my God. I could totally understand being bitter and closed off after that kind of trauma. It didn’t excuse her attitude, but I could understand it.

“So, what happened?”

“She dropped out of school and had to learn how to walk again. Mollie went to all her appointments and changed her major. Mal is why she did a degree in physical therapy,” she told me.

I didn’t know she was a physical therapist, but it made sense.

“She’s tried to get her sister to go back to school. Mol even tried to get out of competing when we were in college, but Mal is a tough nut to crack.”

“She guilt-tripped Mollie into staying on the team. I don’t think she had the heart to do it anymore after her twin wasn’t able to share it with her.”

“Those poor girls,” I said, my voice tight and my eyes misted over.

“Yeah, definitely some hard life lessons. Mollie was so happy when Jordan opened the studio and convinced Mallory to be a coach. It pulled her out of her depression.”

“Wait...” I interrupted. “Jordan owns the studio?”

“Yeah. I thought you knew that…”

I shook my head, and she laughed at me.

“His dad is a silent partner, but Jordan runs the show.”

“I only knew he was the head trainer,” I told her. I had no idea he was actually completely in charge. His attitude toward Ty’s behavior was somewhat justified.

“Well, he’s that too. He tried to take a more administrative role, but he hated only doing office work. He loves the clients.”

This was some new information to process. Now it made sense that he’d be as concerned about his employees’ actions as he was.

He still pissed me off by doing what he did the way he did.

“So what’s going on there? It seemed like there was a story about what happened after I left?”

I picked up my glass and took a big sip.

“He decided he didn’t like Ty flirting with me, so he told him to stop.”

“Were you bothered by Ty? You know he’s harmless, right?” she assured me.

I had guessed as much, but she had been around them all longer.

“I wasn’t really interested in Ty, but I wasn’t offended by the attention,” I confessed. “It just made me so mad that Jordan felt like he needed to step in and say something on my behalf.”

She laughed at the growly tone of my voice and touched my forearm as she took another drink.

“He never has been smooth with the ladies. For someone so charming socially, you’d think he’d be able to charm the pants off of them.”

“He made me want to give him a kick in the pants,” I snarked. “Especially when he went on to say the whole staff had been instructed not to ‘fraternize’ with the challenge participants.”

“Oh shit…he didn’t?” She laughed as she covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh, he did.”

“Well, he kind of shot himself in the foot with that one,” she said sarcastically.

“How so?” I asked curiously.

“Well, now he can’t pursue you for the next seven or eight weeks.”

The scoff I let out might have been a tad loud. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”

“Girl. His whole face lit up when you two had that little back and forth before the mile,” she told me. “He may not acknowledge it yet, but he’s into you. Just be patient. He’s not used to having to work for it.”

“Oh, that sounds great,” I said sarcastically, the alcohol starting to erode away at my filter.

“He’s not a player or anything, but women have always been drawn to him,” she explained as she sipped her own drink. “If he happened to like someone back, it doesn’t take much effort on his part.”

I thought about what she said. He didn’t seem like the pursuer. His attitude toward life seemed to be competitive, but in a way that wasn’t aggressive.

“He’s still being a douche,” I insisted.

“He is,” she agreed. “But take it easy on the clueless douche. He may be thirty-seven…but he doesn’t always act it.”

“Well, I guess he’s got a few months to figure his shit out.” I raised my glass in her direction.

“Don’t you see him most nights you’re in the studio?” she asked.

“Not this week.”

“He’s hiding,” she mused.

“Yup. Which pissed me off. He’s the one who created all these boundaries and then hid.”

“When will you see him next?”

“I guess Saturday,” I told her. “Maybe, if I decide to go.”

“Nine-thirty?” she asked.

“Yeah.” I frowned. That was an awfully specific time for her to be guessing.

“So you’re the reason I have to wake up early on a Saturday.”

“What?” I asked, surprised. “Why am I the reason?”

“He moved my training session up to eight-fifteen. I used to be nine-thirty, but he texted me last week saying he needed to make some ‘schedule adjustments.’”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “I’m sorry. You can just take your session back. I don’t need to go. He can stew for another week.”

“No,” she insisted with a wry smile. “I think you should go. And I think you should wear something low-cut.”

“I’m not going to go in there and try to seduce him.”

I was not about to go ~Fatal Attraction~ on him. No boiled bunnies. I wasn’t even sure if I was interested anymore.

Okay, that was a lie. I was a little bit interested… ~maybe~.

“Don’t flirt,” she instructed. “Be super professional. Just give him something to make it uncomfortable.”

“I don’t want to play games. If he’s so interested in me, he can do the pursuing.”

“He will,” she reassured me, “just tease him a little over the next month but keep him at arm’s length. He’ll crack eventually.”

“I’ll think about it. No promises.”

***

I sat in my car in the parking lot and watched Tatum interact with Jordan. He seemed frustrated, and she seemed highly entertained.

My session was supposed to start in five minutes, but I was waiting until nine-thirty exactly to go in.

Jordan walked into the office as Tatum left the studio and walked toward her car. She saw me sitting in mine and made a detour, knocking on the window.

“Hey,” I greeted as I rolled down my window.

“You showed up.”

I nodded. I still kind of wanted to leave.

“He’s out of sorts with this whole situation. I gave 'im hell.” She laughed.

She was entirely too entertained with this whole situation. I kinda loved it.

“Maybe we should just leave it alone,” I said cautiously. I was starting to rethink all of this.

“Nope, you’re going to go in there and be polite but distant. It’ll drive him crazy.”

“I’m not playing games, Tatum.”

“No... no games, just don’t fall for his charms,” she told me.

He was damn disarming.

“Maybe I should just go home.”

“No,” she urged. “Pull up your big girl panties and make him sweat. You got this. Text me when you get back home.”

She waved as she jogged off toward her car. I took a deep breath and grabbed my water bottle.

I could do this.