Grey Skies

Chapter 7

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Chapter Seven

I was questioning it all right about now.

Questioning whether this is what I want. Really what I want again. Not because I lacked the confidence(not primarily because of that at least) but more like I could tell my body wasn't handlng this very well. My body kills. Every inch of my back aches. It killed to sit down on a chair because of the soreness in my thighs. My ankle surprisingly didn't hurt at all, which worried me even more than if it actually did.

Davis was riding me for the past two weeks, waking me at the crack of dawn, surprising me with runs in the least expected times. You gotta be ready Grey, he'd say, always alert. We'd be the only two idiots running at five in the morning, and seldomly cars passed, most honked their horns which only annoyed me further.

To me, there is something so vulgar in honking or whistling at someone. There is nothing flattering about it. It isn't showing appreciation, but more like objectifying a person. I remember the morning I went running, a few years back, when I wore a baggy t-shirt and compression capris. An older man, maybe in his thirties, whistled at me as I jogged by, and both exhausted and fed up with jerks that supposedly call themselves men, I told him to fuck off. If I wasn't on a busier street, I probably would have just pretended like I didn't hear him. He caught me off guard when he responded that I shouldn't be so mad if I want to wear tight pants.

I didn't think about it in the moment, but when I got home, I sat for a while and thought about what he had said. That I was pretty much asking to be howled at. And I contemplated if I really was, if I should wear something more loose if I didn't want that sort of attention, but then I realized that I liked running in those clothes, and those pants didn't ride up my thighs like shorts did, and why the hell should I have to wear something I don't want to just because of some stupid guy? I didn't ask for anything, other than respect, I guess.

I wanted to avoid all of that this morning. I wanted to sleep in on my Saturday, my body begging for a break from Davis and his training, but there is only several weeks left until preseason tryouts begin on August 18th. And from the wise and irritating Davis, if I really wanted this then I'd have to give up my precious Saturdays.

After hanging up on him, I slowly rise from my bed, and the only thing I hear, other than the low groans escaping my mouth, is the cracking of my bones as I move my body. One leg and then the other slowly following it. One arm clutching my lower back and the other rubbing my tired eyes. Today is going to be awful. I will get terrible times on anything Davis tries having me do, and even worse, I could tell from my mood already that there would be no peace between the two of us, just aimless banter.

By the time I get dressed and find myself anything fast to eat, my phone vibrates and I know that it's a text from Davis. I roll my eyes at nothing in particular and grab the granola bar and orange off the counter and head outside where Davis is parked on the side of my street. Usually his car would stay parked a little farther down the street(so my parent's wouldn't get suspicious) and then we'd go run. I'd just tell my parents I went for a jog and Davis would already be on his way home.

Instead of doing any of that, Davis is still in his car, tapping his thumbs against his steering wheel and bobbing his head. He looks over to me and then gestures with an arm for me to join him.

He unrolls his window and says, "Get in."

"Where are we going?"

"Just get in Iris."

I ignore his eye roll and head over to the other side of the car. He has a silver Honda Accord Coupe, and as I sit down on the cushioned passenger seat, I can smell the trace of leather. I scrunch my nose, because at first it's a bit strong, but after several minutes I grow accustomed to the smell.