Lydia Martin is such a good friend. So good, in fact, that she's willing to give up her Saturday morning— where she should be still sleeping soundly, bundled up under her covers and catching up on all the sleep she's inevitably missed during the week—to get up bright and early and accompany Allison to the gym.
Okay, so maybe 'willing' isn't quite the right word. 'Forced' to come along and 'dragged' out of bed might be more suitable, Lydia reflects moodily, as she thinks back to that morning, of Allison barging into her cozy little apartment as if she lived there (whydid Lydia ever think it would be a good idea to give her her own key) and jumping onto her bed, shaking her awake and insisting that she come with her and keep her company.
"No," she had said, "Absolutely not. You know I have a strict policy against these kinds of things, Allison! Why don't you ask Kira? Don't you guys usually go together? Like you, and unlike me, she seems to likecausing herself physical exhaustion."
"Kira has the flu," Allison had whined, pouting her lips and frowning.
"And I hate going to that place all by myself. C'mon Lydia, do your best friend a favor? I'd love you forever."
Lydia had sighed and thrown a pillow at her friend, resigning herself to her fate.
"As if you didn't already."
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And that's how she ended up here, at a place she swore up and down she'd never step foot in, wearing probably the only sports bra she owns and looking extremely out of place, with her hair bunched up in a ponytail but still perfectly curled and her bright red lipstick sticking out like a sore thumb.
The local gym is everything she expected it to be. There are the people who are obviously serious, who, like Allison, are genuinely there to get a good workout in and to exercise and build up muscle.
And then there's the posers—mostly men sauntering around without their shirts on, struggling to bench weight that's clearly too much for them and going through all sorts of ridiculous measures to show off.
There are a good amount of women on the treadmills and ellipticals, but there are also plenty who are making use of the various exercise machines and equipment as well.
It's cold in here, so much so that she wishes she had brought along a jacket. The AC is blasting right over her head and causing her skin to break out in goose bumps, and even though she knows just from looking around her at the sweat trickling down these peoples' faces and soaking through their clothes that it makes perfect sense for it to be cold in here—people come here to work out and understandably heat up quite a bit while doing so, but it only serves to make her resent this place even more.
Honestly, it's like she's destined to hate it here.
Lydia scrunches up her nose at the strong smell of sweat, along with something stale and pungent, that assaults her senses, making it explicitly clear that she'd rather be anywhere else but here.
As she examines her nails and channels all her effort into looking as bored and sick of this place as possible, she suddenly feels an elbow dig into her side.
"Ow, what the hell, Allison?"
Allison just looks at her and shakes her head in exasperation at the show she's putting on.
"I'm going to run for a bit to warm up and then I'm going to hit the weights; I need to strengthen my bow arm if I want to win that archery competition next Wednesday. Like I told you before, you don't have to do anything while we're here. You can just stand by and keep me company, if you really want. But you might as well at least try some of the machines—it couldn't hurt."
Lydia just waves her away and continues to lounge against the counter, contenting herself with her favorite pastime: people-watching.
She watches as Allison makes her way towards the room with the indoor track, and it's clear that her friend is a regular here, based on the way that people smile and wave at her as she passes by, weaving her way through the machines, as though they all recognize her.
Lydia leans against the front desk and drums her nails against the wood, scanning the room in front of her as she contemplates whether or not the elliptical might be worth giving a try, when she sees her.
She can't be much taller than Lydia, and she looks around the same age.
She's in tight spandex shorts that show off the perfect curve of her ass, and a simple black sports bra that does wonders for her chest and gives Lydia ample cause to stare.
But most impressive by far are the muscles that stand out in her back, her shoulders, her arms, her legs. It's her perfectly sculpted calves, her plainly evident six-pack, and the way the muscles in her back bunch up when she moves what makes it really hard to look away.
Lydia has always had a thing for strong, muscular guys, but she has an even bigger thing for strong, muscular girls.
To put it simply, this girl is ripped, completely and beautifully built, and she's never seen anyone with such a perfect body before.
The girl suddenly looks up at Lydia, mid push-up, and catches her eye, as if she can sense that she's being watched, and Lydia's heart flutters in her chest.
She's got one of those looks about her—perhaps it's the shape of her eyebrows or the harsh set of her mouth, but it's almost as though she has one of those default 'I hate everything' kind of expressions.
She looks bored and maybe a little bit put out, but somehow Lydia can tell that she doesn't really mean to—that's just the way her face looks.
Her eyes are hard but determined, and her light-brown hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, rigid and severe like everything else about her.
If any of this might have been off-putting to any other onlooker, perhaps intimidated them or scared them off, it's certainly not to Lydia.
On the contrary, she's completely captivated by this girl, and she suddenly wants to know everything there is to know about her, to get past her hard exterior and find what's hiding underneath.
Lydia finds herself imagining what it would be like to see her smile, to make her moan, to break down the walls she seems to have built up around her, to loosen her up and see her let her hair down.
And she wants to be the one to do all these things, to get some sort of rise or emotion out of this girl.
She's utterly intrigued, and when Lydia wants something, she'll be damned if she doesn't go after it.
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"Allison," she pants, running up beside her after sprinting to catch up as Allison does her laps around the track, "I need to ask you something. This is important."
Allison looks understandably surprised to see Lydia running—or at least attempting to run—next to her, and notes that if Lydia is willingly running without being chased then it must be something important.
She stops abruptly and pulls her earbuds out as Lydia stops and bends over, resting her hands on her knees as she wheezes and tries to catch her breath.
"What's up, Lydia?" Allison asks, her voice laden with concern.
"I need…you to…tell me…who…that is!" she gasps out between breaths and jabs a finger in the general direction of the weight room, and Allison follows her gaze to a girl who is doing pull-ups with such ease that Allison can't help but be a little bit jealous.
"Oh, her? That's Cora Hale. I think she runs some sort of fitness training class here with her brother Derek. It's like their family business or something."
Something flickers in Lydia's eyes, and as soon as her breathing returns to normal, she grabs Allison by the wrist and drags her out of the indoor track room.
"Hey—wait! Where are we going? I was in the middle of my run, Lydia!"
Lydia doesn't even look back at her as she makes her way back towards the front desk, Allison in tow.
"Come on, we have a class to sign up for."