To Flirt With Discipline

Four | Sweating

Kofi was a dick.

I woke up about ten minutes ago so that I could go to the gym before my 11am Forensics Lab.

Meaning it was currently 8:15 in the morning.

But somehow, the concept of time was lost on his dumbass, considering he decided to make a protein shake using the loudest blender possible before his practice.

He didn't even live with us, he lived directly across the hall in a single-bedroom apartment. However, it never seemed to hinder his ability to harass us whenever he got the opportunity. At times like these, I regretted granting him the title of honorary roommate and knighting him with a plastic sword that I had found on one drunken night. Times like these where I regretted giving him a key to our apartment. He was lucky that he was who he was. If he wasn't such a damn good guy and friend, I would not let shit like this pass.

"Morning Becky!"

I groggily rub my eye, flipping him the bird as I shove him out of the way and pour half of the blender into a cup. He stares at me with a betrayed expression as I chug the smoothie within seconds.

"This tastes like shit." I say monotonously, my voice not betraying me of the fact that it tasted really fucking good.

"How dare you? You little shit, I could--"

I cut him off, placing a finger to his lips to shut him up, walking away before he has a chance to react. I slip my headphones on before I have a chance to hear his complaining, the sounds of my workout playlist drowning out his whines, grabbing my bag as I make my way out the door to get to the gym.

Most would think I was crazy for going to the gym this early, especially because I had a class afterwards. Truthfully, I thought I was a little crazy too. But the gym is my most important outlet, and I enjoy any opportunity to go.

I started working out to get muscular and toned, as any puberty-stricken teenager does once he realizes that he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life being scrawny. I had just quit basketball for good since I had no plans to play after high school, and wanted to stay in shape. There was a gym about a five minute walk from my house and one day it just stuck. I would go to get bigger and see results until I found myself getting to a place where I wasn't necessarily looking in the mirror once done a workout. It became an escape rather than a chore. I was proud of my body because it took work to get it, but I was even more proud that I hadn't fallen victim to the alarming amounts of eating disorders and body dysmorphia issues that most male gym rats experienced. I went to blow off steam and always left feeling better mentally and physically.

The walk passed pretty quickly and I soon found myself standing in front of the medium-sized building that housed the gym and all other "recreational centers". Whatever that meant.

I headed straight to the locker room, scooping a bit of pre-workout into my mouth and washing it down with some water before actually going into the gym. I had a pretty strict workout split that I followed, but I always made sure to not restrict myself food-wise and be too hard on myself if I didn't follow the split. I had not been the most consistent with my routine, but frankly, I didn't care. It was never that serious, and I had no plans on making it that way. I took off my jacket and sweatshirt, leaving me in a pair of athletic shorts and a black v-neck that was breathable with compression as well which was my go-to workout clothing. With that, I headed out, water bottle in hand and headphones turned up to the max to block out any distractions.