Measuring Up (10 page)

Timmy.

He has a tattoo of his brother’s name. It’s cool in so many ways, but gives me a ton of questions too. He’s so hush, hush when it comes to his brother that the declaration on his arm surprises me.

My heart is no longer beating crazily. It’s buried somewhere in my feet.

“Are you checking me out?” he asks, a smile in his voice, only I can’t reply. I keep staring at the tattoo. All the dark swirly lines of the design. Each small letter spelling out Timmy’s name. Wow… I feel like I’m going to be sick, even though it makes no sense.

“What?” he looks down. “Oh. It means brothers and the other is forever.”

“That’s cool. I like it.”

Tegan pushes his hair out of his face. The tense Tegan is back. He’s quiet and I’m quiet because I don’t know if I should say anything or not. The air around us is thick. It’s probably only eight, but I’m feeling hot and not sure it has anything to do with the run I just took. There’s something about him that does crazy things to me. I wish I knew how he did it.

It could have been a minute or an eternity before he talks again. It’s hard to tell. “You hung out with my family yesterday.” He looks at me and there’s something different in his eyes. It’s not the playfulness, the cockiness or the tenseness. It takes me a moment to realize what it is. It’s vulnerability and it steals my breath. So much so I can only nod in reply.

“And you didn’t ask about me. Didn’t fish for answers. Didn’t mention I bailed on you. You just…hung out. Like you wanted to.”

There’s something that sounds like awe in his voice, like I did something exceptional or something. I’m not exceptional. I’m just me. “Umm, yeah. It was fun. Tim beat me at cards and your mom is incredible.”

Another long silence.

“Are they why you’re here right now?”

His question confuses me. Little sound bites of our fight pops into my head. When he asked if having a crippled brother excused him. Does he think
I’m
here because I feel sorry for
him?
“No… But I’m still mad at you, too. I mean, there’s a part of me who gets it, but another who thinks it’s not too much to ask that you picked up a phone.”

He turns his head, still sitting in that relaxed position and looks at me. I shiver. He’s so beautiful. I shouldn’t think that, but I do.

“But you’re still here?” There’s so much behind his question that I don’t understand, but hear it all the same.

“I’m still here.” My reply matches the question in his.

A car pulls up in the lot behind us. Just a second later a bike zips by. People are starting to show up and I hadn’t noticed. Tegan stands. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.” He holds out his hand which is all sorts of strange. I mean, sweet, but strange. I’ve never had a boy do that before. It reminds me of a movie or something, but I push those thoughts away and let him help me up. When
he lets go, I miss his touch.

After we walk a little way, he says, “You also never apologized.”

I’m at a loss on what I’m supposed to be apologizing for. Apparently he reads my confusion because he says, “Because I have a handicapped brother. I can’t tell you how many times people meet Timmy and then tell me they’re sorry.”

“It sucks, don’t get me wrong, but he seems happy. Well-adjusted and all that.”

Tegan huffs which isn’t the reply I expect. “He is. Timmy’s such a kickass kid. That’s what makes it all even worse.”

“Yeah—
”

Tegan cuts me off before I can finish. “Listen, I just want to apologize again for not showing the other day. Mom needed help with something and I didn’t want to say anything because…I guess I’m just fucking sick of it being an excuse for everything, good or bad. People get all weird when it comes to Timmy. They either pity us and walk on eggshells or they don’t know how to deal with it at all, so they don’t.”

It’s a link between us I never would have expected. Each of his words spark something inside my heart because I feel the same way. I hate pity. I think about the way he refused my help that first day, the look he gave. “That first day—when I helped—I didn’t mean for you to think—“

“No, no.” He stops me with his hand. “Okay, maybe kind of, but that was different. The way you just jumped in like that,” he shrugs. “It was kind of cool. There wasn’t that awkwardness, ya know? Like you felt obligated to help, but then like you thought his paralysis might be contagious at the same time. I hate that.”

We start walking again. “Wow, people really act like that?” It’s not like he’s a leper or something.

“I don’t know. Seems like it. Maybe it’s just me and I’m too damn sensitive about it.” He chuckles.

The urge to admit something to him too plays hide and seek inside me. I want to, but don’t know if I can.

“So yeah… thanks. For all of it. The help that day, hanging out with them because you wanted to…And now I’m done. That’s about enough of my sob story to last a lifetime.”

I take some of his bravery, amazed by how protective he is of his family. “It’s not a sob story. I get it…I mean, not in the same way.” I study the ground as we walk. “But the pity thing—I get it.”

“Who?” he asks.

“Everyone?” My laughter isn’t real.

“Who?” he asks again.

How does he know? Maybe the bigger question is can I tell him? “I thought we were done with sob stories?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “You’re not getting out of this. Just this one thing and then we’re done.” He nudges my arm with his and yes, it makes me a little giddy.

Giddiness had power, because I say, “Two people mostly. A guy from school and—and my mom.”

Tegan curses under his breath, but there’s no apology. No pity.

“So… how did you end up becoming a trainer?” I’ll do anything to change the subject. Plus, there are so many things I still want to know about him. Why does he work so hard? What happened to Tim? Who left them that makes him doubt people want to stick around?

“Timmy. It all leads back to him, doesn’t it?” His voice sounds sad. “I just kind of became obsessed with the human body. It really can do amazing, things, Annabel Lee.”

There’s the name again.
I wonder where it comes from.

“It’s the only thing to do, and I have to do something, ya know? He’s my brother—my family.” Tegan picks his cuticle like he’s almost nervous. I’ve never seen him nervous before. “It’s my job to take care of him, both of them, but him especially. When I get my degree, I’m going to do whatever it takes to help him walk again.”

Something inside me almost…shifts. It’s like my eyes have been pried open and I see him. I’m really seeing him for the first time. Not the gorgeous boy, the flirty boy, the one who has girls checking him out left and right at the gym. Not the guy who refuses help or gets edgy when it comes to his brother or his condition. No, I’m seeing the guy who didn’t flinch when he saw my weight. Who boxed with me and laughed when I hit him. The guy who would do anything to help people. People like me or people like Tim.

The scary part? The one that makes me want to turn around and jog my big butt to my car and never look back is I realize how much I really like what I see. And that can’t be good for me. “Degree?” My voice cracks.

“Physical therapist. College soon. I’m bored of talking about me though. Tell me something about the determined boxing queen that I don’t know.”

I struggle not to trip. “Ummm. There’s not much to tell.”

“What? Girls love to talk about themselves, don’t they? I’m giving you the prime opportunity.” He nudges me again. “I’m good at this, huh?”

Laughter falls out of my mouth. “No, actually, I think you need to be seen by a doctor because there’s something wrong with you. Didn’t you just tell me the other day you don’t understand girls?”

“Damn, I forgot all that honestly from earlier. Now it’s screwin’ with my game.”

My feet glue to the concrete, keeping me from moving. Tegan stops too, giving me one of his confused looks, his eyes searching me, trying to see everything inside me.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” He pushes at that same wayward lock of hair that always falls down in his face.

“The hot stuff at the gym. Say things are messing with your game.” As soon as the words come out I pray for the ability to snatch them back, but inside they repeat in my head. Could I say anything lamer? But the fact is, I really need to know.

“I don’t know… It’s called flirting, I guess. Maybe you’ve heard of
it. It’s when a girl or a guy—
”

His words give me a rush stronger than our jog just did. My skin burns with heat. Tegan just admitted to flirting with me! “You know what I mean.” Despite my shock, I figure I need to push something out of my mouth.

“Actually I don’t.” He crosses his arms. Frustrated? It almost looks it.

“Tegan…”

Instead of a reply, he glances down at his watch. “I gotta bail. I have to be to work soon. We better head back.”

“Are you always working?”

“Eh,” he says, but I know the answer is really yes. How many times have I heard about extra shifts?

The walk back to his car is quiet. The drive to the gym, quieter. I hug my backpack, a little bummed that I didn’t need the clothes inside. When we get back to Let’s Get Physical, he kills the engine. “So, back to our schedule? You’re not going to ditch me, right?”

His questions make me smile. I’m actually looking forward to it. “Nope, I’m not going anywhere. Sometimes it might take me a while, but when I decide I’m doing something, I’m doing it.”

“I knew that about you. From the beginning I could tell.”

Tegan gets out of the car and grabs a gym bag, so I get out too.

“Good job toda
y, Annabel Lee. See you soon.” He
starts to walk away, but stops. “You’re different, you know that? And by the way, I like your eyes.” Tegan winks and walks away while I struggle to hide the totally goofy grin plastered to my face. And as much as I’m really craving a celebratory milkshake or even a Berry Berry Blast smoothie, I head home instead.

Chapter Nine

W-DAY AKA WEIGH DAY

It’s been the same thing for a week since the incident at the pageant. Mom goes about her business
like nothing happened and Dad,
not even knowing what the new tension is, tries to make it disappear. Strangely enough, my bright spots have been my workouts with Tegan. Which I guess either makes me lame or someone who might kind of like exercising--at least with him.

My trainer-extraordinaire has been nothing but professional. No more declarations about my eyes, or saying he’s flirting with me. Sure, he still runs on the treadmill beside mine, he’s still flirtatious with all the girls so even if he was like that with me, it wouldn’t mean anything. Which kind of, sort of sucks and it shouldn’t.

So maybe it’s a good thing he’s being professional so my mind won’t play tricks on me.

We’re trainer and client and even though I’ve enjoyed our workouts, I’m totally not looking forward to today. There’s a heaviness in my chest that won’t go away.

Tegan waits
for me by the door as always, giving me t
he smile
I’m starting to realize is the real one. Not the Ken smile or the fake one. The Tegan one.

Me, on the other hand, I frown. “How can you be happy on a day like this?”

“It’s not that bad, Annabel. You’re lucky. You even got to miss
a weigh day since you
bailed on me for a whole week.”

“It’s not that bad for
you.
For me, it’s torture. I used
to
weigh every day, and I haven’t touched a scale for weeks. Now I’m freaked out about getting on there and finding out I gained five pounds. Of being disappointed I didn’t lose anything.
You
have nothing to lose or gain here, no pun intended.”

We’re back in his little cubby and Tegan puts his hands on my shoulders. He’s started to touch me more like this over the last week. Professionally, of course, but still more than he did before. “Relax, Annabel Lee. If it’s too much for you, close your eyes and I won’t tell you.”

“Pfft, like that’s going to happen.”

He lowers his voice, looking at me with those eyes that seem to see too much. “Then listen to me. Whatever that scales says, you’ve rocked it this week. Be proud of that, because it’s what really matters. You’re here and you’re doing better every single day.”

Wow…
he’s really good at his job.

I try to turn away, but he hooks a finger under my chin and holds my head in place. I can’t turn away, not only because he’s touching me and that warm, zapping feeling is flowing from him to me, but because I’m wondering if he can feel any fat on my face.

“I do have something to lose or gain. I’m your trainer, but that’s not all. We’re… friends, right? I mean, I took a hit for you. Can’t sock me in the face and say we aren’t friends.”

It’s annoying how he does this to me, sidetracks me when I’m freaking out. I can’t help but smile, some of the heaviness lifting off me in the process. “Are you ever going to stop reminding me of that?”