【Her · Schoolteacher】
People assume I am that kind of woman: soft-spoken, wearing only light makeup, the sort who pauses on the lectern to wait gently for a student whose mind has wandered. Two years into a tenured post, the youngest in my grade level, the senior colleagues in the office love to tease me, saying I look exactly like a good girl who has hardly ever dated. I just smile and let it pass. They will never know how hard my heart pounds when the bell for the last afternoon class rings and I peel off that prim, proper blouse.
【Her · Schoolteacher】
The gym is in the building next to my complex, eight minutes on foot. I change into a tank top and leggings, tie my ponytail up high, and the person in the mirror becomes someone else in an instant — collarbones, shoulder lines, the small of my back, all the things hidden away by day are put on full display here. I love this switch. A person can have two faces, and only one of the halves is real.
【Gym Spotter】
The first time I spoke to her was three months ago. She was doing deadlifts, her form was good, she just was not bracing her core, so her lower back was about to cave. I went over and gave her a word of warning, meant to be nothing more than the most ordinary gym courtesy. But the look she gave me when she raised her head — I still remember it now — was not the irritation of being interrupted; it was a calm, level gaze, the look of someone seen through who has no intention of hiding. After that look, we became regular partners.
【Gym Spotter】
She trains harder than most women. She can drop into a very deep squat, and after a set she leans against the barbell rack gasping, her tank top soaked into a dark streak that clings to her back. I stand behind her spotting the weight, my hand only a palm’s width from her waist. Every time she rises, that streak of sweat swells and falls with her breathing. We never say it out loud, but that palm’s width of distance grows narrower week by week.
【Her · Schoolteacher】
Today was leg day. He loaded more plates for me, and by the fourth set my legs were trembling. He reached out from behind, resting his hand lightly on my hip. “Steady, do not let your back cave.” His palm pressed against me through the thin layer of fabric, hot. I could easily have stood up straight on my own, but I did not. I let that hand linger half a second longer, then another half. In that half second, the gym’s music and the clanging of other people’s machines all receded far away.
【Gym Spotter】
During the rest between sets, she sat on the bench and tipped her head back to gulp water. That little length of her throat moved as she swallowed, sweat sliding down her jawline to pool in that little dip above her collarbone. She handed the water bottle to me, and I took it and drank, knowing full well that was the mouth of the bottle she had just had her lips on. She watched me drink, her eyes crinkling faintly, saying nothing. A lot of what passes between us is said this way — without the mouth.
【Her · Schoolteacher】
After the last set, my whole body felt hollowed out and filled up at once. My heart was still slamming inside my chest, my blood was scalding, my skin so sensitive that I could feel every fine hair on my arm as the air conditioning breathed over it. I know this state after a workout all too well — the body fully woken and refusing to go back to sleep. I know what it is called. It is hormones with nowhere to go. They need an outlet.
【Gym Spotter】
During the stretch she had me help her stretch her legs. She lay back on the mat, and I hooked one of her perfectly straight legs over my shoulder and pressed it down; her leggings were pulled so taut you could make out the line along the inside of her thigh. Her eyes were half closed, her lips slightly parted as she panted, and from her throat escaped a tiny sound she herself probably had not even noticed. I pressed very slowly. We both knew this was no longer a stretch.
【Her · Schoolteacher】
It was nearly ten when we broke up for the night. He said it was on his way to walk me home, and I said all right. It was not on his way at all. Walking through the streets at night, we kept half a step apart, neither of us touching the other, yet the air in that half step was thick, thick enough that it seemed you could bite into it and hear the sound. The sweat had not dried, and the wind only made it stickier. I knew what would happen once we got back to the foot of my building, and I pretended not to know, so that this stretch of road could last a little longer.
【Gym Spotter】
At the foot of her building, she fished for keys — she does not use keys, the door is a smart lock, yet still she rummaged through her bag out of habit. I could tell it was stalling. The voice-activated light went out and then was lit again by the sound of us moving; that ghost-white strip of light showed her clearly: a few strands of her ponytail loose and stuck to her cheek, her lips red, the skin at the neckline of her tank top still flushed from the workout. I said, “Come up for some water?” and even to my own ears the voice sounded parched.
【Her · Schoolteacher】
I looked up at him. The stairwell was silent, silent enough to hear each other breathe. I should say never mind, get some rest, see you tomorrow — the me at the lectern by day would certainly say that. But the one standing here was not that me. It was the me just steeped through with barbell and sweat, body burning, only one thought left in my head. I did not open the door. I did not say come up, either. I only stepped forward, and stamped out that half step of distance.