After I warm up, I stretch, and then I focus on the strength training. I put one leg on a black wooden box, and then lower my other leg. It looks like a squat on one leg, while I hold small weights in my hands. Coach Richards is timing me with a stopwatch in every exercise I do, observing me, and correcting the mistakes. I also exercise on the rowing machine, and then I have a few minutes of break to rest and drink water. I wipe the sweat with my towel, and continue with my training. I do squats with small weights and I deadlift. I repeat everything three times, and during each rep, I run in place for a minute. In the end, I do some sit-ups, and then my training is over. Exhausted, I collapse on the floor in the gym, breathing deeply. I slowly stretch my tired muscles and go grab a quick shower. In the shower, I place my hands on the white tiles, and let the water cascade over me. I close my eyes and just breathe.
About fifteen minutes later, as soon as I step outside the building, I’m surrounded by a group of girls. I give them a wide grin.
“Jake, can we take a picture with you?” squeals one of them. Since I’m not in a hurry, I nod. There aren’t any more people in the vicinity, so this shouldn’t take long. I stand next to every girl, my arm around their shoulders, while one of them takes a picture. In the end, I sign a few autographs and head to Ace, exhausted.
“Hello, Mr. Burns,” Meredith, the owner of Ace, greets me. I give her my usual smile and go to the couch where I usually wait for Ella to finish her massage. “Today, Anna will be your masseuse, Ella is on sick leave.” I raise an eyebrow toward her.
“Sick leave? Is she alright?”
“She caught a virus,” she waves her hand. “I’m sure she’ll be back on her feet in no time.” I nod. While I wait for Anna, I take my phone out of my pocket and text Ella.
Me: I heard you were sick. Everything okay?
Anna comes around the corner and leads me to the massage room. Ella hasn’t written back yet, so I put the phone on silent and get ready. Anna is also a great masseuse. Who would have thought such fragile-looking women could do such a great job massaging strong athletes? But no one can beat Ella. After an hour, my body feels a thousand times better. I thank Anna and pay, then put on my motorcycle jacket, and step into the cold December day. Ella hasn’t replied to my text yet, so I decide to check up on her. I check the time. It’s only 2pm. I remember I haven’t eaten anything since this morning, and I had a grueling training session, so I go grab something to eat. I’m sure Ella could use a warm meal.
A man is just leaving her building, so I quicken my step to reach the door before it closes. I run up the stairs, and gently knock on her door. I’m standing outside for a minute, then knock harder. Finally, I hear the rattle of the keys as the door unlock. Ella opens the door a crack, and her eyes widen in surprise when she sees me standing there.
“Jake? What are you doing here?” She’s holding her hand against her forehead, leaning against the door. She looks tired, but still beautiful.
“Can I come in?” I ask her.
“I’m sick. I don’t want you to catch anything.”
“I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me,” I say, and invite myself in.
“Seriously, I’m not feeling well. I’ve been throwing up the whole night. You’d better go.” I put the bag with food on the counter, and approach her. She wraps her bathrobe around herself protectively. I place my hand on her sweaty forehead.
“You’re burning up. You should go lie down.” Her eyes are throwing daggers my way as she puts a hand on her hip.
“Oh, really? And here I thought opening the doors is the best cure for my sickness,” she says, and I can’t help but laugh at her sarcastic comeback. Ella moves to the couch and sits down. “What do you want?” she says, visibly tired.
“Meredith told me you got sick so I brought you soup in case you’re hungry.” She gives me a questioning look and studies my face.
“Why?”
I ignore her question. “When was the last time you ate?” I ask and sit down next to her. I grab her shoulders, and pull her to me so she can rest her head in my lap. She looks at me in surprise, but doesn’t protest. I can see she’s exhausted.
“I don’t know. Yesterday evening?” It sounds like she’s asking me to tell her if that’s true. I’m stroking her hair, which is tied into a ponytail. Her eyes slowly starts to close. I put the hand that was caressing her hair on her hip and just watch her—her even breathing, her facial features. I run my fingers down her arm through the robe and she flinches.