"Oh, Tommy, I can't – I'm done."
The words were bit out between clenched teeth as Kelly nearly lost her grip on the punching bag between her thighs. Tommy's grueling regime had her clinging to a punching bag with her knees and doing a vertical crunch, fighting against gravity and trying to use her already-exhausted core. Tommy – her coach, her bleary mind supposed – was holding the bag in place as she hung there, still trying to keep herself from collapsing. His workouts were torture – every morning, rain or shine, began with a five-to-seven mile jog around Philly, and the diet was strict; mostly unattainable goods on Kelly's shoestring budget, but she fudged and said she was following it to the letter. Thanks to marginal increase in food and his excellently painful workouts, Kelly's thin frame was beginning to acquire some muscle, bulking her up slightly and giving her soft belly some definition once more. For two weeks, there had been little change – at least in Kelly's eyes – and then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and realized her body was getting some sleekness around the starved bones. At the moment, however, Kelly felt sure that she would fall and crack her head open on the concrete floor beneath her, seeing as her abs were shredded and felt as though they were on fire.
"Finish the rep," Tommy replied curtly, not moving, and he heard the vinyl squeak as Kelly spurred herself onwards, jaw locked tightly, muscles wound to snapping point. At the very brink of her collapse, just when she was going to risk a concussion just so her knees could be on solid ground once more, she heard Tommy's deep rumble growl out, "All right, enough."
Relieved and grateful, Kelly let her hands drop from her head and she pried her thighs, sticky with sweat, off the bag with extreme care. Tommy released the bag, came around, and pulled her the rest of the way off, watching Kelly lie on the concrete floor with something akin to wry amusement twisting his full lips. She was breathing hard, her brown hair corded to her temples in dark waves away from her forehead, and her skin was flushed a sweaty pink. "I've died," She panted hard, her Jersey accent twisting her breathed words into something almost unrecognizable. "I've truly died."
"Not yet you haven't," Tommy said with a hint of a laugh behind his words. "C'mon, get up, you need 't drink."
A hand, limp and feeble, gestured tiredly. "No, no, no, I'm gonna lay here an' die," Kelly gasped. "Go 'way 'n give Jordan m' love."
His strong hand, calloused and brawny, wrapped around her elbow and hauled her unmercifully upright. Before she knew it, he had maneuvered her over to the benches lining the wall and sat her down, crouching in front of her. "Hey, Kelly, lookit me," He instructed, and she focused her weary brown eyes on his marble gray ones. "You're fine. We're in training. Have a drink."
The water bottle felt too cold in her hot hands to handle properly, and she almost dropped it on the journey to her mouth. Nevertheless, somehow a stream of cold liquid trickled down her throat, and she blinked at her trainer, focusing sweat-reddened eyes on him. "I hate you," She breathed.
"Great," Tommy said tersely. "C'mon, get up. Getcha sweats on, I'm takin' you home."
Despite her raw, aching muscles and inability to walk properly, Kelly's eyes lost some of the fog of tiredness and she seemed to shake herself awake. "No, I'm fine," She insisted, and dropped her head into her hands. "Just – need a sec, is all."
There was a tch'ing noise spat from between Tommy's teeth, and he shook his head. "It's five o'clock, 'n it's pourin' outside. C'mon, I'll take you home. I gotta car, an' I ain't gonna let you cool down in the frickin' rain. Now, c'mon, getcha sweats on."
Aw, hell no, Kelly thought frantically to herself, trying to think of an excuse. It had been ridiculously hard keeping everything a secret from Jordan; she had woven several long, elaborate tales to explain the exhaustion and fed him lies about waitresses quitting and drug dealers giving her a hard time. The extra food? Her doctor said she needed to gain weight. The new running shoes? She wanted to jog, get herself back in shape. Jordan treated everything with skepticism and watched her closer than ever, not accusing her of anything but not trusting her either. Kelly had always been a good liar, except around Jordan. She turned to mush around Jordan. Still, if she got dropped off by a muscular – and extremely attractive, she was slightly ashamed to admit – guy, Jordan would be intensely jealous and probably demand an answer to all the new work schedules. And if he found out that she had gone behind his back ... Kelly turned her brain off with difficulty. She didn't want to think about that. "I'm okay, really. I don't live far," Kelly protested.
Tommy threw her sweatshirt and pants at her. "Sweats. Now." He ordered.
Stalling as long as she could, she stretched her burning muscles and pulled her old sweatshirt over her ratty training bra. It was raining out, and she lived about two miles from SuperFitness – which would be a bone-chilling walk in the pouring rain. Still, anything was preferable than being hit by Jordan. Checking the clock on the wall, Kelly realized she needed to be home within ten minutes – otherwise, Jordan would be home and she wouldn't have time to change out of her workout clothes. Swallowing hard, Kelly forced a grin and nodded once. "M'kay. Let's go."
The car was a small, simple thing which she couldn't see too much of in the pouring rain. Fat white drops of rainwater burst on the sidewalk with wet slapping noises, and Kelly pulled herself into the car before she got too soaked. The abrupt change from uncomfortable warmth to frigid chill shocked her skin, and goose bumps scattered across her arms and legs. Tommy started the car, the headlights illuminating a soggy path before them, and he flicked a cool-eyed glance at her. "Which way?" He asked, the words short and tight. Kelly squirmed uncomfortably, not wanting him to know her exact address.
"Jus' go on up to the lights 'n take a left," Kelly told him, and he followed her instructions. In the silence of the car, Kelly noted one or two little details she wouldn't have placed in Tommy's car; a St. Christopher's medal hanging from the rearview mirror, spinning and catching the light, and what looked like a pine-scent air freshener. He drove as he lived – aggressively, recklessly, quickly, three things which would usually make Kelly either run the opposite direction or sit the person down and have a beer together. Not be trained by him. When he turned left at the light, Kelly waited ten seconds before saying, "Stop. Right here. I can walk from here."
Tommy arched an eyebrow, looking around at the scuzzy, graffiti-covered neighborhood, and said nothing. Nobody was out in this weather, anyway – and he decided he would wait until he saw Kelly safely step inside her home before he left. Just to be safe. She slammed the door behind her without a goodbye or a thank you, and raced for the apartment complex about half a block away. He waited, windshield wipers working overtime to clear a space, until he saw her fiddle with the key in the doorway. For a split second, he caught a glimpse of her face, far away though it was – she looked frightened. It could have been the light, he decided, and pulled away from the curb.
"Where the hell have you been."
Ohgodohgodohgod.
Kelly froze, wet clothes dripping on the cheap carpet, dark brown hair swinging in her face. Jordan was standing in the kitchen, an open beer in his hand, dark eyes looking at her with an unhealthy mixture of curiosity and anger. Dressed in an undershirt and jeans, she could see the wiry sinew around his arms and legs, and fear bolted through her again. "Had to cover to Jenny again?" He slurred, swallowing a gulp of beer and focusing on a spot in the carpet. "Or, what else, did the subway break down, and you had to walk? Mm?" He asked, getting to his feet. He was so much taller, Kelly thought frantically, and her guilt was written all over her face. That weird little flip of brown hair was tangled and falling in her eyes, and Jordan sauntered a little closer, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "And you know what else?" He asked, and this time he bracketed her against the door with his arms. "I checked with the guys down at SuperFitness...They said you've been coming down there almost every day with a guy called, uh, Tommy, and he's been training you."
He took a swig of his beer. "Got anything to say, princess?"
Her tongue wouldn't work, her brain wouldn't function. "I c'n make money at it," Kelly finally managed to whisper.
"You went behind my back!" Jordan roared, and Kelly flinched at his sudden change from quiet to furious. "I specifically told you, and what did you do? Huh?"
"I c'n do it! You ain't the boss of me!" Kelly shouted back, and she was instantly horrified at herself.
Those dark blue eyes bored into her. "Well, I think you and I need to have a little talk about who's the boss in this house, mm?" He growled. "And then, I think we need to talk to your coach – Tommy."
A/N: Wow, this is turning out really dark...Ah well. Please review! I was recently flamed on one of my other stories and now I'm questioning all of my characters. Is Kelly too Sueish? I'm trying to make this a mixture of difficult and easy for her, mostly because training is HARD, but she needs to have some talent. Otherwise, she would give up and look for something else to make money at. Why am I explaining myself? Maaauugh. Just review. Please. xD