Monkey Business

She smiles. “The gym.”

“Yeah? Have you been already? I’ve been meaning to check it out.” I can’t believe I haven’t gone yet. Any build I have is going to melt if I’m not careful.

“I’ve gone a few times this week. It’s pretty good. There’s a wait for some of the machines, but not too bad.” The sweatshirt slips down her body exposing a fine-looking ass, but then she reties it. “Want to come with me?”

Why not? Sounds like a constructive way to spend a Sunday. “Sure. Do you mind waiting two minutes for me to grab my gym stuff?”

She smiles and takes a sip from her water bottle. “No problem. I have to use the bathroom anyway. Why don’t I meet you in the courtyard and then we’ll head over together?”

“Give me five,” I say, trying to mentally block out the bathroom part. I sprint back to my room and grab the gym shorts and T-shirt I wore yesterday to play basketball with some of the guys. I suck, but it’s fun. I started playing postcollege to help pump up.

Wonder if Sharon would care that I was going to the gym with a chick. Probably, eh? What should I have said, no? I can’t go to the gym with you, I have a girlfriend? She wasn’t hitting on me. Probably knows about Sharon, anyway. I must have mentioned it.

I spot Kimmy staring into the sunlight in the courtyard. She’s wearing sunglasses. I need to buy new sunglasses. Left mine in Toronto.

“Let’s go,” she says, now wearing the sweatshirt. Shame.

It’s getting cold. Wish I had a sweatshirt. “Where is this place?”

“At the back of the Student Services Center. Not far.”

She walks fast for a girl. Her ponytail swings from side to side like a tennis ball in play. Sharon is the slowest walker ever. If I don’t pay attention, I leave her a half a block behind.

“So how do you like school so far?” she asks.

“It’s cool. I went to University of Toronto, so I lived at home.”

“Were you in a frat?”

“No, no frat. Not my thing.” I decide not to tell her that I didn’t have much of a life in college. I preferred my calculator and comic books to beer kegs. Of course, that changed in my last year, when I met Sharon. “I bet you were in a sorority, eh?”

“No way. I’m not a gamma, gamma, gamma, can I help ya help ya help ya type girl.”

I can’t help mentally casting her as one of the sorority girls in Revenge of the Nerds.

“How do you like the dorm?” she asks, and takes another sip of her water. “Want some?”

I shake my head. “The dorm is all right. Not used to sharing a floor with so many people.” Not used to sharing a water bottle, either. Sharon doesn’t like when I take sips from other people’s drinks in case any of them are sick and then I get her sick.

“I know. I feel like I’m eighteen again.” She motions to a sprawling stone building. “We’re here.”

We climb the stairs to the top floor and show our student cards to the scrawny kid at the front desk. The gym caters to the entire school, not just the business school, so it’s packed. Puffing women on treadmills are lined against the window.

“Do you lift weights?” Kimmy asks.

“Yeah.” Truth is, I’ve been slacking on my workouts. I feel a wave of panic that my muscles have all disappeared.

She stretches her leg in front of her. “Do you want to run with me?”

Even though I’m feeling anxious about the state of my muscles and want to get to the weights, the idea of watching her jiggle beside me is too appealing to pass up. I stretch out my hamstring beside her. “Sounds good.”

We find two unoccupied treadmills in the corner, facing the window. She sets her speed to seven. I set mine at nine.

Shit. That’s fast.

We run in silence. The sun beats through the glass, and I’m starting to sweat faster than usual. Oh, man. I must be out of shape. The wall of window makes me feel as if I’m running off a cliff. I wonder if the miniature students below us can see us. Maybe the windows are tinted. I’ll have to check next time I walk by.

It’s interesting watching below. Groups stopping, laughing. Someone doing a handstand against the side of a building. What is that guy doing? “Is that Jamie?”

Kimmy peers out the window, then grabs the handlebars and ducks. “Yikes, hide me.”

“Hide you? Why?”

“I can’t escape him. What’s he doing?” A group of three girls are standing around him, laughing. He flips over and sits on the pavement. Two of the girls sit next to him. I think one of them is Rena.

“Gymnastics of some sort. Maybe he’s working out.”

Kimmy smirks. I’m pretty sure we’re both thinking that he doesn’t look like a guy who works out. “So does that mean you’re not interested in him?” I ask.

Her mouth flies open. Closes. Then it opens again. “Jamie? Nooo.”

“What about what happened last week?”

She’s flushed from my question. Or from the workout.

She bites her lip. “You know about that?”

“Ah…no?”

“Very funny. Did he tell everyone?”

“Didn’t you see the ad in the LWBS paper?”

“Hilarious.”

I’m worried that I’ve upset her, but then she laughs and adds, “What a blabbermouth.”

Now I feel bad for Jamie. “Don’t be mad, we forced it out of him. Tortured him, if you want to know. Tied him up then performed Japanese water torture.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I’ll bet.”

“So, you interested in him or not?”

She shakes her head no, and her ponytail swings again. Game, set, match. “That night was a mistake. He’s not what I’m looking for.”

“What are you looking for?” I ask, now watching her pump her arms. She gets very into her workout.

She turns toward me. “Exactly what I’m looking at, actually. You.”