"Well, if you don't like it you can always go and find somewhere else to live."
Your cutting tone didn't go unnoticed. Van's eyes narrowed a little, the smirk falling quickly away but not for long. He folded his arms across his chest, fixing you wit...
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❤️🔥 Van's POV ❤️🔥
"You're not seriously thinking of joining a gym are ya?"
Bondy's voice makes me jump and I resist slamming the laptop shut, not wanting him to think I'm trying to hide what I'm doing.
"Christ sake, wish you'd quit sneaking up on me like that!" I complain, hoping to divert from what he's just seen over my shoulder as I sit at the kitchen table hunched over my MacBook.
No such luck though, he's grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he crosses to the fridge and takes out two bottles of San Miguel, prising off the tops and passing one to me.
"That's the gym Y/N goes too ya know," he smirks at me, taking a pull on his lager. "But I'm guessing you already knew that, huh?"
"I didn't actually," I lie, shrugging for effect. "I've been meaning to join up to one for ages and this one looks good... and it's local. It's just around the corner."
I'd spotted the gym's slogan on Y/N's duffle bag when I saw her arrive home a few days ago. It wasn't like I was spying on her or anything, it's just that I notice things when I'm skulking around out front having a ciggie break... and I've been having lots of those recently. Whenever I'm writing and I'm stuck on a lyric or a riff and I need a bit of inspiration I'm straight outside lighting up. I don't know why it helps but it seems to clear my head. I can't understand song-writers who'll take a long hiatus complaining about writer's block, it's just a fag break for me.
"You... join a gym? You only move off the sofa to put the kettle on most days. Reckon you'd cough up a lung if you got on a treadmill for more than five minutes."
The expression on Bondy's face says it all and it's quite obvious he can see my real intentions but I make an attempt to string him along, feeling a little embarrassed about the lengths I'm prepared to go to to impress a girl who's made her disdain for me abundantly clear.
"Fuck off, I'm not that unfit! Every time I'm on stage it's like a bloody workout. Couldn't do all that if I was a slob... and I used to be dead good at footy. Was the star striker at school back in the day ya know."
I take a swig on my beer and Bondy watches me, amused. "Yeah exactly... at school. How many years ago was that now? Sure that was before you discovered booze and fags."
"It's never too late to take on new hobbies," I say, ignoring his teasing as I scroll down the web page, perusing the classes.
"Let's see how long this one lasts!" He sniggers as he comes to stand behind me, watching on as I quickly scroll past yoga and Pilates.
"No one's catching me bending my body into ridiculous shapes dressed in Lycra!" I laugh.
I have no idea what HIIT is and I disregard weight-training too. I'm just hovering over the spin classes when the words 'Learn to box' catch my eye. That's more like it. I'm not hench or anything but I'm fast on my feet and I'm actually much stronger than I look. I try to imagine Y/N being impressed when she sees me driving my fists into a punch bag but my daydreams are interrupted by Bondy's mocking laughter.
