Bad Rep

FOUR

Eli drives the short distance home and for some reason the inside of the truck feels suffocating, my own thoughts bogging me down, making me itch.

Should I tell him about Rhodes? I have a feeling telling him will only cause unnecessary drama, but I hate purposefully hiding it from him. But it's not like I'm doing anything wrong. So what Rhodes works at the gym I go to? I'm allowed to be in the same vicinity as him. Eli is around him all the time during competitions, and it's not like I'm going to interact with the guy—minus today. Going forward, I literally have zero intentions of speaking to Rhodes again, so there's nothing to worry Eli over, right?

Feeling conflicted, antsy, and almost guilty, my mouth seems to have a mind of its own, spewing out words to fill the silence that's fueling the nagging voice inside my head. "How was your day?" I almost cringe at my octave, practically lacing my tone with anxiety.

Eli actually smiles. "Good. I beat my PR on bench press today."

"That's great!" I exclaim, my voice still a little too unnecessarily high. "I've lost three and a half pounds already!" I blurt out, unable to hold back my own good news.

"That's great, baby." He chuckles at my enthusiasm, but he actually sounds genuine.

I take note of the small smile etched onto his face and the brightness of his eyes as we drive home, and I decide it's best not to ruin his good mood—something I haven't really seen in a long time—with any news about Rhodes.

When we get home Eli immediately heads for the kitchen to make his dinner while I head for the shower. I ask if he'll cook an extra grilled chicken breast and veggies for me, and despite his shock, he agrees.

Since the accident, we've fallen out of step with each other. We hardly eat dinner together anymore, among other things. We used to have a routine where we'd meet up at the gym after work, workout, go home, make dinner, and go to bed.

But I honestly can't remember the last time that happened.

While Eli prepares dinner, I slip into the bathroom and turn on the shower, stripping out of my gym clothes as the water heats up.

I can't help but step on the scale for the third time today, noticing only another point one pound loss. When I step off the scale I take a look at myself in the mirror, noticing that my stomach looks a little less bloated and my face less round.

Excited about my small progress, I jump in the shower and then join Eli for dinner. We sit at the dinner table together, eating the same meal at the same time for once, and talk. Like, actually talk. I feel like we haven't done this in forever.

Maybe it's because we haven't.

But it's nice. Really nice.

Once we're finished eating, I offer to do the dishes while Eli takes another shower—even though he just took one at the gym. He always claims he smells like chicken after cooking dinner, so I just let him do his thing. Eli has always taken at least three showers a day; one in the morning, one after the gym, and one before bed. And most days he goes to the gym more than once and always showers after every workout. I don't necessarily understand it, but then again, his name is on the water bill, not mine, and half of them are at the gym, anyway. So as long as he's cool with it, I guess so am I.

When I'm finished loading up the dishwasher, I head to the bedroom, beyond ready for bed.

The door to the bathroom is slightly ajar, the water still running. Wanting to hop into bed without having to get back up, I quietly slip into the steam filled bathroom, planning on brushing my teeth really quick and slipping back out and into bed.