I’m still hungover from Saturday night’s absurdities when I make my way down the hill for the Monday morning lift. I almost fall on the stairs as I take my shortcut to the campus recreation center through a back parking lot. Hank “tsks” loudly from behind me, but I ignore that so it doesn’t become another conversation. I pause to gulp a long drink of water so he can just jog on ahead with all his judgment. 

Hank has spent the last two nights crashing on the couch in my room. I’d thank him for not letting me puke all over my bed Saturday after he brought me back from the party, if he hadn’t been so annoying about it the next day. Then there was last night, when he came by to ask a thing about the Econ worksheet we have due today, but he never got around to it after lecturing me on relapsing with Leigh. Which I didn’t even really do, since I couldn’t get it up through all the shit I drank, but...not even that can be heard over Rant Hank. Kissing Leigh was enough of a slip anyway, and I’m beyond pissed at myself for even drinking in the first place. I haven’t talked to her about it, and I don’t plan to. The women’s team swims this morning, so chances are I won’t even cross paths with her until practice tonight. 

I nearly hurl about four times during our dynamic warm-up on the outdoor track, but luckily it’s 5am and dark enough to hide how much I’m not really existing right now.

The fluorescents in the gym, however, do me no favors. 

“Yikes,” Quinn notes as soon as he glances at my face. 

“Shh.” I nudge him ahead of me towards the weight stand as Hank snickers from over my shoulder. 

Q chuckles while selecting our specific plates like I taught him, but I’m tempted to kick his bright-eyed ass out of my lifting group for this attitude right now. Maybe if I had energy.

“You should go first today, froshy,” Hank says before he heads over to help him grab enough weights for the three of us. The divers are mingled with us swim folks for lifts as a way to encourage bonding between the teams. Their weight room program differs from ours just a bit, but some of the exercises align. 

We begin with legs today. Quinn’s already miles ahead of where he started just a few weeks ago, but my baseline...that’s pretty much where it ends for me on this fine morning. I suck it up to make it through the reps, but I know I’m not getting much of anything out of it. 

I barely make it to the bodyweight station afterwards. My momentum is shot. Strength? None. Endurance for anything other than lying on the mats with my arms over my head? None. 

“Here.” A gentle tap on my side alerts me that the break between rounds is over, and it’s time for me to pretend I’m not dying again. “Hurry. Take it before I fall.” 

“Huh?” I position myself in a plank for the first exercise before blinking down at the freckled hand hovering under my nose. 

Quinn nearly topples to the ground when I bite the partially unwrapped piece of gum straight from between his fingers and inch the wrapper all the way off with my teeth. His burst of chuckles completely destroys his single-arm plank, but I’m too busy welcoming the peppermint flavor in my mouth to care all that much. It instantly pushes away leftover bile, or…whatever’s been trying to escape me this entire time, and for that I’m grateful.

“Will you two get it together?!” Hank scolds us with ease while he holds impeccable form. “Scott’s gonna fuck us all up if he thinks you’re messing around.” 

“He’s not even your coach.” I point out as I grit my teeth through the grueling two minute round. I’m not gonna make it to five.

“Switch.” Hank shoots up into the jump squats like he’s a freakin’ ballerina, and my sluggish efforts don’t go unnoticed while I huff my way through. “Doesn’t matter, ‘cause Tammi would be pissed if she thought I was slacking,” he pants between leaps.

“You’re not.” I grunt through the reps of barely even hops I’m managing at the moment. “I’ll vouch.” 

“How kind.” Hank’s sneer kinda makes me want to punch him, but I need to conserve energy. 

We use our break time after the v-ups to debate which coach is more nuts, and with a few mild remarks from Quinn about Scott kicking a wet floor sign into the pool last week…twice, we win. Tammi, the dive coach, doesn’t even come close. All she’s got is a temper, and my guess is she saves it just for Hank and his mountains of bullshit. 

I lag behind on my way to the locker room for a post-lift shower once we break after practice. My body knows it’s not capable of rushing right now, plus I’m not in the mood to deal with any of the wildness that usually takes place in there. Or listen to talk of the party this weekend and all that went down. 

I’m deep into basking in my misery while I shuffle over to the stairs, so I don’t exactly notice that Quinn’s matching my grandpa’s pace until I hear a throat clearing to my right. 

“Do you need help?” He’s trying not to laugh, and I’m already over his sunshine ass today.

“Shut your face,” my mouth grunts before my mind’s fully formed a sentence. I find it immediately necessary to stop on the step so I can focus all my brain power on glaring at his snickering freckles before I’m trying to maneuver my body downward once more.  

“You’re gonna miss class at this point-”

“You don’t know my schedule.” I cut him off and hold my breath while a new wave of nausea rocks through me. I spot the last step four rows down, and force a gulp to give myself more time. Almost there.

“You have class sometime this week, don’t you?”

My gasp is delayed, given the current state of my brain cells. By the time I’m gawking at him properly, he’s skipping on to the bottom with a wicked smirk twisting his lips.

“Since when are you clever?!” 

“I have my moments.” He shrugs, which drives the left strap of his oversized gray tank top to his upper forearm. I’m about to make a comment about him keeping his clothes on in public spaces, but I’m distracted by the vibrant flush on his skin when he wipes a hand over his brow and pushes those ginger strands off his forehead. It’s like a sunburn.

I cut it out with the staring when Quinn peaks around the corner by the stairs. “Scott just went in his office, so the coast is clear,” he announces in that thick rasp. 

I do a mental fist pump that no one else will witness this showcase of athleticism I’m currently starring in. “Bless you,” I mumble as my fingers slip along the wall, coating the off-white in my alcohol sweat. “Even if you’re being a dick-”

“Hey now.” He interrupts with a light cough and kicks his worn black shoe against the bottom step. “I gave you gum.” 

“You want it back or something?” I smack the peppermint between my teeth like that’s making my point any clearer. 

“I’ll probably be seeing it again if I stick around here much longer.” 

“Rude!”