Page 10 of True Sight (Nat. 20, #4)

HENRY

“ A nd five, six, seven, eight!”

My voice rings out in the empty studio room with the only in-person participant being my laptop.

I’m teaching in a small, cramped room that’s tucked upstairs in the studio and currently the only space not under construction.

Eventually, the walls will be blown out and the roof lifted to expand the upstairs completely so it will hold an open group fitness room and a secondary room that can be used as an office and storage closet.

Right now though, it’s a dark and dingy room with spiders in it that are older than me and a musty smell I can’t air out no matter how hard I try.

Hearing the last eight counts of the song, I move into the cool down part of class.

“And take an inhale.” I pull as much air into my lungs as possible before pushing it out. “And exhale.”

“Nicely done, everyone, you all looked fantastic this morning. Don’t forget, you can see the schedule for classes on my Instagram and sign up for them from there.

October’s schedule is up already and ready to be booked.

I’ll see some of you again soon.” I wave to the camera and close out of the temporary system I’m using to host classes while Conrad builds out my own platform.

There are plenty of platforms out there I can use, I know this, but I want something specific to my studio and my brain.

I dance and teach fitness classes, I’m not some tech genius that has time to figure out a million different softwares and platforms. While I’m doing my best to keep my students coming back and my classes booked with the resources I have, I know it can’t last like this forever.

I close my laptop and wipe my brow with the side of my tank top when a question I want to ask Conrad about my app pops into my head.

Not wanting to forget it, I grab my phone and quickly shoot off a text.

It is only after it is labeled as ‘delivered’ in my phone that I remember what time of day it is and I grimace to myself in the empty studio, hoping I don’t wake him.

Tired from class but wide awake at the same time, I lie on my mat and close my eyes.

I can feel my heart starting to race as I think about all the things I need to do today.

Meet with the contractors about the layout of the locker rooms .

Interview a few people who had applied for the instructor positions I’d posted.

Map out classes for next week and make my playlists.

Oh yeah, and maybe do something fun since it is Friday and typically people my age go out and do things or have a social life on Fridays.

If I were home, Ellie and I would be going to one of the many fabulous restaurants her fiancé owns or at the very least be curled up on my couch watching ‘Ex on the Beach’ with a cup of tea.

Lying flat on the floor, my brain is starting to fall back asleep when I hear my phone buzz on the hardwood next to me.

Conrad:

Yeah, I can make sure to do that for you. I’d rather call you to explain how that works, texting it out would be a pain and it would just make more sense over the phone.

My eyebrows meet in the center of my face and I double check the time. It is a touch before four in the morning—why is he awake so early?

A phone call is perfect. Thank you for getting back to me so quickly, I appreciate it very much.

I do have to ask though, why are you up so early? Do you normally wake up at this time?

Couldn’t sleep.

Well he’s not a chatty fellow, is he?

I could ask you the same thing though.

I had a class to teach.

At four in the morning?

Three in the morning actually, I just got finished.

Sounds like my worst nightmare.

Oh come on now, my classes are fun. I think you’d like them.

I’d rather let my dog eat my face off than workout.

I can’t help but laugh because after meeting Conrad, I know he isn’t joking. Although, for a guy who admittedly doesn’t workout, I can’t help but notice he’s in great shape.

Well once the studio is open you’ll have to come for a class. At least to watch all your hard work in action

There are a few beats before his texts come through again and I think for a moment he’s fallen asleep until my phone buzzes again.

Yeah, maybe I will. I’m going to try and get a few more hours of sleep in. I’ll call you later about your question and we can talk about it more.

I bite my lip because I have another question I want to ask him but I’m not sure how he’ll take it.

Could we meet sometime next week? For coffee? Make it like a weekly check-in kind of thing where we can do a progress update and I can ask all my questions. I do better in person as you know, so a weekly coffee date might be good.

My thumb hits send before my brain can tell it that calling it a ‘date’ is probably not the best idea.

While anyone with eyes—minus my parents—can tell my sexual preferences, I’m not sure about his and don’t want to insinuate anything more than a professional relationship.

The last thing I want is to make him uncomfortable and lead him to believe I’m hitting on him.

When I’m not.

Even if I find his grumpiness and floppy blond hair mildly attractive.

Okay maybe the attraction is more than mild.

A weekly meeting is fine. We can talk details later.

Short and direct. A perfectly fine response to my accidental, could-be-perceived-as-me-hitting-on-him text.

I take it as a good sign and smile awkwardly at my phone before tossing it to the floor again.

Once I find my will to stand, I drag my tired body from the floor and pack up my stuff.

Thankfully, I only have one class to teach today but the rest of my day is still booked with other essential tasks to get the studio up and running.

With my bag tossed over my shoulder, I check my watch and note that I have several hours to kill before my 10:00 a.m. interview with a potential fitness instructor and decide I’ll go home, shower, and make myself something to eat.

While taking a nap sounds like a delightful idea, I know that if I fall asleep, I won’t wake up again and will miss my meeting.

Tired and feeling a little homesick, I head for the door to walk back to my flat.

“Alright friend,” I whisper to myself as if I’m talking to another person, locking the doors of the studio behind me. “Let’s make today a great day.”

Six hours and two double-bagged teas later, I’m sitting in my favorite coffee shop around the corner from my place once again, this time with a fit-looking girl sitting across from me with a smile painted on her face.

Alexis, or Alex as she told me she prefers to be called, was one of the first people to apply to work as an instructor for the studio and looking at her now, I can see why.

Her arms are well defined under the short-sleeved, crop T-shirt she has on and her pin straight black hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail high on her head.

Her resume is adorned with years of personal training, professional dance related gigs, and she has a healthy online following packed full with local people which will be great for business.

“So, Alex, tell me a little bit about your favorite forms of exercise,” I say, even though her resume tells me everything I need to know in that department.

“Well, I’ve been a dancer since I was old enough to walk and then throughout school and college I just tried anything and everything.

I attempted to get my degree in exercise science, but,” she hesitates, looking slightly uncomfortable, “college wasn’t really for me. I never finished or got my degree.”

“Oh my god,” I gasp, and bring my hand to my chest. “Neither did I.”

It’s another tick on the list of reasons why my parents resent me and sits just below ‘ Our son is gay and an abomination’ but above ‘we don’t appreciate how he dresses or styles his hair .

’ I also attempted a brief stint at uni but after several years of skipping classes to do literally anything other than study, I dropped out entirely.

It just felt like a waste of time and my parents’ money to continue going—too bad they didn’t see it the same way.

“I’d rather run a marathon a day than sit in a class and listen to some old geezer drone on and on about world history or how the internal system of a cow works.”

Her face pinches up before she laughs a few times. “I couldn’t agree more. I’ve always been one to seek out the knowledge and information I need by living in the real world. I like to learn by doing , not by sitting.”

“Twin flames, you and me,” I reply with a wink.

We talk for another half an hour or so before I get all the information I need to know. There’s just one more question I want to ask before I’ll call it good and give her the job.

“Now, just one more thing I need to ask.” She takes a big gulp of her matcha latte, seemingly finishing it off, and when she lifts her arm I can see several thin scars just on the inside of her wrist. My eyes flick to them for a fraction of a second before I try to regain focus on the question I want to ask her.

“Shoot.”

“Who,” I pause for dramatic effect, “is your favorite pop icon?”

She blinks hard a few times before throwing her head back in a fit of laughter. When she lifts her head, she runs a finger under one eye. “Oh my god, you’re a hoot, you know that?”

“My best friend Ellie does like to remind me of that, yes.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a friend here.”

“I don’t, not yet at least.” I give her a wicked grin. “She’s back in London with her rich fiancé restaurant connoisseur.” My hand waves in a circle next to my head—I’ve always loved a flare for the dramatics.

“Maybe I can be your first American friend,” she offers and my heart swells. I like Alex, even after talking with her for about an hour. She’s funny, quick witted, and seems like the type of person I’ll be lucky to call a friend.

“Only if you answer my question correctly,” I tease.

Her lips fall open and she takes a breath.

“Ahh, that’s right, my favorite pop icon.

Well…” She brings her index finger and thumb to frame her chin and taps on her cheek a few times as she thinks.

“I think some people would argue that she’s not so much a pop icon now , but in her prime I think I would have to say my favorite pop icon would have to be Lady Gaga. ”

My mouth falls open.

“The Fame?” I drag out the title of Lady Gaga’s first album as if they’re the two most important words I’ll say all day with my hand over my heart.

“Born This Way?” She mimics my inflection.

“ Changed my life .”

“I’m pretty sure her Bad Romance music video is when I realized I’m bi,” Alex admits openly and I fall in love with her even more.

“Mother Monster would be so proud,” I gush, before reaching across the table and taking her hand into mine. “You’re hired.”

“Yay! I’m so, so excited.”

“Now, classes don’t start in person until the studio opens after the first of the year, but I would love to start having you join me for my virtual classes so you can get the hang of it. Would that be okay?”

“I would love that. Just text me the details.” We exchange phone numbers and stand from the table to leave. Once outside, she leans in and gives me a hug.

“It was so nice meeting you, Henry. I hope you love it here in Charleston.”

“I have a good feeling about it so far.” I bump my shoulder into hers.

We start to go our separate ways when I hear her call out to me. “Hey, do you have plans tonight?”

We turn to face one another in the coffee shop parking lot, her heading one way down the street and me heading back towards the studio to check in with the contractor.

“Uhh, no. I was just going to plan some classes for next week,” I call back.

“Would you wanna do it together? My plans bailed so I have nothing better to do.”

I smile at my new friend and nod my head, excited about the idea of not spending another Friday night alone in my flat.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot actually.”

“Sweet, I’ll bring the wine. You drink wine, yeah?”

“Oh, I drink wine.” I nod my head feverishly at her, causing her booming laugh to echo between the old buildings that are surrounding us.

“Alright, well I’ll be over tonight with some wine and you can show me these dance classes you speak so highly of.”

“Because drunk choreographing can’t possibly be a bad idea,” I joke.

“Hey, you never know, maybe it’s a class we can offer in the future.

Some of these Charleston moms would eat that shit up, I can promise you that.

Text me your address and I’ll see you at seven.

” She flicks her hand at me over her shoulder as she bounces down the sidewalk, the backpack she’d brought with her bouncing against her muscular frame.

I smile to myself before texting her the address to my flat and heading for the studio.

Not only did I have a great class this morning and hire a new instructor, but I’d also made a friend in the process.

Not to mention, I hadn’t totally scared off my tech guy when my still half asleep brain nonchalantly asked him on a date.

As my feet carried me down the pavement, my insides bubbled with excitement at how well everything was going so far.

Today is shaping up to be a great day and it’s only eleven o’clock in the morning.