Falling at His Feet

My arms are wet noodles. My heart is pounding. And I’m shaking ever-so-slightly.
 
“Let me get this straight. On your way here, you literally ran into the same guy you crashed into a few weeks ago?”
 
I can’t answer. My sweaty face is buried in my towel.
 
It can’t be hygienic.
 
Three sets of seated rows. All because the gym is crowded tonight and we would have had to wait for other machines.

“Amy? Are you okay?”
 
You can do it, Amy. Look up.
 
The first thing I see is myself in one of the damned mirrors.
 
Amy! Language!
 
There are MIRRORS AND WINDOWS EVERYWHERE!
 
My face is fire engine red. My hair is sweaty, frizzy, and sticking up all over the place. And perspiration is still running down my temples.
 
Back to burrowing my face in my disgusting towel.
 
Zoe laughs. Laughs!
 
“I hope you’re proud of yourself! You did it, girl!”
 
“’Proud’” isn’t the word I would choose!”

Although actually, I can feel the pride sneaking in. I did do it!
 
“Oh, no? What word would you choose? I'm very proud of you.”
 
I peek at her. She's smiling hugely. Proud as proud can be. 
 
I can’t help but smile back.
 
“Can you move yet?” She hands me some wipes. “We need to head out. At least, I do.”
 
“Must. Shower. ASAP.”
 
Zoe laughs again as I force myself to stand.
 
Oooouch.
 
“So, it’s the same guy?”
 
I nod as we wipe down the torture… the machines.
 
“And you like him?”
 
“No! I didn’t say that.”
 
“Oh, sugar…”