Winning Back Ryan (17 page)

             
His eyes softened at my words. “I’ll go with you if you want. We can get tested together.”

I nodded as his lips pressed against mine. His fingers laced through mine, kissing my hand, before tugging me to follow. He walked through the apartment, turning off all the lights as we went.

              As we curled up in bed, my head on his chest, his arm wrapped around me, he kissed my forehead before whispering, “Goodnight, Annie.”

Just as I was about to fall asleep I heard my phone buzzing. I knew who it is. I slipped out of bed to read Ben’s text:
Just tell me you’re somewhere safe.

I replied back:
I’m somewhere safe.

I tossed my phone into my bag and walked back to bed. I didn’t feel the need to tell him that I was at Brian’s. I didn’t need to pour salt in the wound.

              “Who was that?” Brian asked.

             
“Ben,” I murmured, “He just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going back to the apartment tonight.”

He let out a long sigh and kissed my forehead again as I began to drift asleep in his warm embrace.

             
Five o’clock in the morning was an ungodly hour.  When his alarm went off, I couldn’t even see straight.

             
“Morning to you, sunshine,” he said, leaning over and kissing me all over my face rapidly.

             
I tried covering my face, groaning at him.  “I’ve got morning breath!” I was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. Sometimes I could be downright bitchy.  I had taken for granted just how well Ryan understood that after two years and normally left me alone in the morning.

             
“Okay. What about this?” He laid his head on my breast, wrapping his hands around my body and cuddling me.

             
I murmured in appreciation. “This is incredible.” My eyes fluttered closed as my brain wondered if I could sneak in a few more minutes of sleep.

             
But, Brian’s entire body practically crackled with energy. After only a few more minutes, he popped out of bed.

             
“Come on let’s go,” he shouted, clapping his hands before walking out of the room.  I moaned my complaint; it was way too much enthusiasm for this early in the morning.

I nearly fell out of bed and practically crawled into the kitchen. I just needed a cup of coffee and I would be able to function.

              “What are you doing?” I asked as he picked up a tape measure.

             
“We’re going to take your measurements,” he said. I silently objected with a scowl. “No one’s going to see it,” he said.

             
“How often are we going to do this?” I asked.

             
“Once a month, and we’ll weigh you once a week,” he said, “And you’re not allowed to see.”

             
“What?” I shrieked.

             
“Too many women become obsessed with the scale, Annie. I don’t want you to become one of them. It isn’t about numbers, it’s about how you feel,” he said.

             
I frowned. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

             
Brian took out the measuring tape, measuring my bust, my arm, my thigh, and my waist, writing the numbers down on a clipboard. To distract me from the sudden awkwardness, he asked me about Ryan’s behavior the night before, so I told him how he was sweet as could be when I walked in the door, telling him about our whole conversation. He frowned but didn’t say anything, and I didn’t say anything when I felt his hand brush against my rib cage or move between my inner thighs.

             
“Alright, all done,” he said, “Now come with me to the bathroom.” I followed him, and he forced me to get on the scale backwards. He wrote the number down and when I tried to glance at the page, he yanked it back. I sighed, knowing I had only been able to do that whole embarrassing scene because it was Brian.

             
“Now what?” I asked.

             
“Now we exercise,” he said, walking to the kitchen, picking up my coffee and pouring its remaining contents out into the sink.

             
“What are you doing?” I shouted.

             
“You can have one eight ounce cup of coffee a day. That’s it,” he told me before handing me sheets of printer paper. “I took all the guesswork out for you.”

I glanced at the pages realizing it was a meal plan from Monday to Friday. I sighed and reminded myself that I wanted this. I was also touched by how much effort he put into helping me, and how long he must have spent preparing all of this.

              “Alright, let’s go exercise.”

**

              Brian was the picture of ease, standing there smirking while I leaned up against a light pole, my hands on my thighs, trying to catch my breath.

             
“We only have five more minutes, Annie,” he said, and I honest to God, wanted to kill him. My everything was on fire, and not in a pleasant way. I ached in places I didn’t even know I had. Brian’s system was thirty minutes of exercise- alternating sixty seconds jogging, sixty seconds walking. There were no words for how much I loathed this. I needed to create new words to explain how much I hated this exercise.

             
“Hey, Annie, do you know of any new cool groups?” he asked.

             
“What are you talking about?” I barely sputtered the words out in between pants.

             
“You know how you’re always telling me about new, cool, musical groups? My boss wants me to come up with a song and commercial for a product. He thinks my seniors are out of touch with youth. The budget for it, however, is practically non-existent.”

             
“And what do you think?” Again I could barely get the words out.

             
“That it’s really a test because all of the senior members are going along with it just fine.”

             
“What’s the demographic exactly?”  Amazingly, I still couldn’t breathe regularly yet.

             
“Co-ed. Twenty to twenty-five,” he said.  I took my phone out of my pocket, scrolling to my videos. The week before I went to a small club with Ryan to see one of his friend’s band play. They were pretty decent, but this one song had been stuck in my head for days.

I scrolled to the part of the performance where the song wa
s, simply holding out my phone.He played it as I watched his foot tap to the beat.

             
“Really catchy.” I simply nodded, pulling myself up straight. “Is this the band that you went to go see with Ryan last weekend?” I nodded again. “Are you alright that they are cool with Ryan?”

             
I could finally talk without feeling like my lungs were going to explode, so I said, “They shouldn’t be punished for their friend being a jerk. Besides, if it helps impress your boss, that’s all that matters. Also, they don’t have a record deal. Convince them to let you use the song for free if you just slip in at the end of the ad the band and song’s name. You’ll be giving them free advertising.”

             
“That’s my girl!” he shouted, “Good thinking, Annie.” I could see the wheels turning in his head like they always do when Brian’s put puzzle pieces together in his mind. I fought against the way his exclamation made me feel.

             
“Can I send myself this video?” he asked me, and I nodded while we started jogging again.

             
Our exercise route wound us down by the waterfront, where there were park benches to sit. Brian motioned for me to come sit down. I looked out, watching freightliners drift by, and the enormity of their size made me feel so tiny in comparison. I listened to the seagulls above, diving into the water for breakfast.  I also heard the waves gently lapping against the shoreline. But, the most beautiful part? I realized the sun was rising.

             
“Wow,” I said, turning toward Brian. “This is really something.”

             
“I come down here every day after my workouts,” he replied, smiling.

I sat back on the bench, enjoying the view as his arm wrapped around my shoulder, hugging me tightly as he laid kisses on my forehead and temple. When I kissed him back before cuddling against him, he sighed with contentment.

**

             
I popped a few Motrin into my mouth, swallowing them down with a big gulp of water.  Everything hurt, my head pounded, I had a crick in my neck from the sleeping on Brian in a funny position.  I was starving, and when my co-worker came by asking what I wanted on a coffee run, I glared at her murderously. Oh, I was also apparently whiny, too, because as I listened to my inner thoughts, I wanted to smack myself.

             
I started my work day in the usual manner, checked all my work emails and the four hundred office memos that my boss sent. How she didn’t have carpal tunnel syndrome by now was nothing short of a miracle. I then checked all personal emails, forwarded really funny jokes or political articles friends sent me to Brian, then pulled up my assignment folders.

             
When lunchtime rolled around, I looked at my new menu list and glanced at the sheet in shock. Brian knew all of the nearby places that I ate at and picked a place halfway down the block from me. Surprised, I grabbed my pocketbook, went out, and picked up the sandwich listed. Walking back, I felt a little lost. Normally, I rushed lunch because Ryan called me. That’s not happening anymore, so I was not sure what to do.

             
I ate lunch in my work cubicle, because I was not friends with anyone at my job. They were all much older than me, and although age shouldn’t hinder a friendship, I had nothing in common with any of them. Most sat around talking about children, which was fine, but I couldn’t relate. Besides, I was one of those people who didn’t like to bring home issues to work. I felt very uncomfortable talking about personal things with co-workers. Work was a paycheck and a way for me to write for a living. Nothing more.

             
After my grilled vegetable whole wheat pita with mystery sauce was done- Who eats this stuff? - I logged onto Facebook, checking messages. I responded back to the guys who asked me to go out saying I would, but told Ben that I could go out, just couldn’t drink much- that I was training for a marathon with Brian. I wrote back to Amanda also saying that I couldn’t go drinking, but we could definitely go for manis, pedis and manhunt. And then I realized, surprised, that Ryan left a comment. Worst part, it was a weird comment. It was just an emoticon, a smiley face. What did that mean? Who wrote things like that- a guy leaving a smiley face underneath his ex’s comment that she was now dating again, especially when it was not an amicable break? What a douchebag! Disgusted, I checked out Brian’s page- sports central- blah, and left him a message
: My head is pounding and it’s all your fault. Jerk. See you tomorrow morning?

Brian responded back a few minutes later:
Don’t be such a baby. Put on your big girl panties. See you tonight?

I blushed furiously reading his comment. It seemed an aptly timed phrase, however, since Brian and I just went lingerie shopping. I was pretty sure lacy thongs qualified as big girl panties. I hoped Ryan would read it.

              I made it through the rest of the day and left work again completely lost. I had no idea what to do. I really didn’t want to go back to that apartment and find Ryan sleeping with stick girl number three. I didn’t want to call Brian and seem clingy.  But, it was Monday. What was interesting to do on Monday when you were all alone?

             
I walked down the street and when I glanced into a window,  I saw a room filled with women all in a row viciously kicking a leather bag while a man yelled at them. I glanced up at the storefront and read the name of the place.

Empowerment.

Wow. That was the only thought that came to my feeble mind as I looked back in. Those women were seriously kicking butt. Empowerment, huh? I walked inside.

             
The man was intimidating as he strode over to me with his hands clasped behind his back.  He was a huge African American man with a shaved head who had some serious ink crawling up and down his arms and scalp. The man was just ginormous. His biceps were like the size of my head. I felt pretty sure that he could bench press me. I realized that it was the same bouncer from Pyro.

             
“And what do you want?” he shouted at me.

             
“Um.”  I was not sure anymore what I wanted. Oh, wait. I wanted to be empowered. I swallowed hard. “Um, empowerment?”

             
“Damn right you do!” he shouted back. “Get on that back bag now!” I blinked, walking over there. “Any health problems?” he asked and I shook my head too frightened to do anything else. “Then follow the routine. One, two, punch punch.” I watched what he demonstrated, still in my professional outfit- a three piece suit with kitten heeled shoes. “Take the shoes off,” he said and I flung them off, along with my pocketbook and jacket toward the corner of the room. “Now empower yourself!” he shouted, and I grabbed the boxing gloves that he threw at me. Sliding them on, I watched everyone in the room, and fell into line. One, two, punch, punch. 
Die Ryan, you scumbag.

             
It was a high unlike anything I had ever known before, and I couldn’t even do the full routine, too afraid I’d rip my dress pants if I tried the kicks. Ten minutes after the burning stopped, my body flooded with so many endorphins that I felt capable of flying. After the class was done and a few women walked over, thanking Mr. Scary, he came over to me.

             
“So, what do you think?” he asked.

The yelling was gone; he was actually being very friendly, although his energy was intense. All I knew was that whatever magic he sprinkled over the gloves or the leather bag, I wanted more.

              “Sign me up,” I replied.