Blurred Lines Read online

  “Oh my God, did you see his face?” Another woman’s voice broke Tiffany out of her daydream and she jumped, glancing around guiltily.

  “Oh my God, yes! It was priceless!” The two women broke into hysterical giggles, totally unaware of Tiffany behind her shower curtain.

  Tiffany heaved a sigh of relief, letting the shower head go limp in her hand and resting her head against the wall. She didn’t usually get so carried away while she was still in the gym. Normally, she could at least wait until she was alone in the privacy of her own home. But she had to admit – now that it was over - that masturbating in the gym showers made her feel like a bit of a badass. That was something one of her characters would do, not Tiffany.

  Biting down a self-satisfied smiled, Tiffany put the shower head back in place and finished soaping herself down – this time without any extras. Quickly rinsing off, she wrapped herself in a towel and headed for her locker, feeling pretty pleased with herself. She was more than ready to finish the last half of the project she’d left sitting at home hours earlier.

  Chapter 2

  Her project finished and sent in at 2 am – a whole two hours before her deadline - Tiffany woke up around 11 the next morning feeling very self-satisfied. She stretched luxuriously, curling her fingers around the blond wood of her futon frame as she arched her back and pointed her toes. She was tall and her toes hung over the edge of the futon.

  “I really need to invest in an actual bed,” she told Livingstone as she sat up to survey her messy blankets. “Then again,” she continued, “it’s not like anyone but me is ever going to see it.”

  Livingstone’s leaves waved in what Tiffany took to be agreement.

  Turning on some music, Tiffany hopped out of bed. Hands on hips, she took stock of her cluttered apartment and decided the time had really come to take out the garbage – or, more realistically, to put all the stuff lying on her floor that needs to be thrown out into the garbage.

  Tiffany did a quick, relaxing yoga routine to wake up her muscles, then pulled her thick hair off her face into a messy bun and got down to work. First, she stripped her bed and piled the sheets and all her dirty laundry into an enormous gym bag. Heaving the unwieldy bag over to the door, she turned back to the apartment. In the end, she spent all afternoon cleaning up. It was amazing how such a small apartment could amass so much mess. Finally, when all her dishes were drying in the rack, all the old take out salad containers, napkins, and empty bagel bags had been thrown out, and Livingstone had finally been watered, she packed up her laptop and swung her laundry over her shoulder, lugging the whole ensemble out to the elevator. If she was going to have to spend three hours in the laundromat, she could at least get some work done while she was at it.

  The laundromat was nearly empty when she arrived and that was how Tiffany preferred it. She separated her washing by color and, in the end, managed to fill three different machines to the brim.

  “I really need to do this more often,” she muttered as she slid what seemed like an impossible amount of quarters into the machines one by one. As her clothes spun, she set up shop in the back corner of the laundromat, her laptop on the narrow Formica table the management had thoughtfully provided for just that purpose.

  But, as she settled down to work, she found her mind wandering to last night. As terrifying as it had been to be the object of so many men’s attention, she had really enjoyed working out with Jamie and Sam – at least, when she’d been in the zone enough not to overthink what was happening. Tiffany sighed, resting her chin in her hand. If only she could relax and let herself enjoy men’s company instead of getting so nervous all the time. It was a vicious circle – she worried about embarrassing herself so she got nervous. And the more nervous she got, the more likely she was to do something embarrassing. She just couldn’t win.

  Of course, it didn’t help that she was twenty years old and had never actually had sex with anything other than a dildo. Although, to be fair, she’d had some very good times with her sex toys, thank you very much. But she was starting to feel like a freak. All her high school friends had lost their virginity years ago. Tiffany took a deep breath and told herself to stop worrying about it. Overthinking the situation wouldn’t help her any. She just had to go to class and learn and enjoy the experience. Working out with Jamie and Sam was already way more than she had ever thought would happen.

  In the following weeks, Tiffany did her best to follow her own advice and tried her hardest to play it cool. But the CrossFit classes were twice a week and, inevitably, as Tuesday or Thursday evening rolled around, Tiffany would find her hands shaking, her palms sweating, and her breathing growing uneven. The classes themselves were great – Jim, the instructor, was really knowledgeable and helpful, and always made a point of encouraging her, saying it was nice to have a woman in the class to balance out all these hooligans.

  “Who are you calling a hooligan?” Sam had responded, jokingly. “We’ve been nothing but gentlemen!”

  “Yeah, they’re playing the long game,” another student had shouted from across the room. The rest of the class had laughed and Tiffany had blushed like a tomato.

  “Cool it, guys,” Jim has said. “And I was talking about the rest of you, not these two. They at least know when to keep their thoughts to themselves! And your snatch looks great, Tiffany.”

  There was an explosion of laughter and Jim realized how what he’d said had sounded. “I meant the move, you dirty-minded perverts!” Jim responded, rolling his eyes and waving his hand at Tiffany, who had been practicing the difficult weightlifting maneuver only a moment before. “God, it’s like a frat house in here.”

  Tiffany knew that none of the men meant anything by it – they were constantly ribbing each other as well – but she still couldn’t help but blush every time someone made a lewd joke, no matter who it was about. She tried to concentrate on her exercises and ignore everything else. By the third week, she was really starting to see improvement and was proud of the work she’d put in. Focusing on that, she very slowly began to get used to the guys’ dirty senses of humor and learned to just smile through her blush.

  The worst part of the situation wasn’t even the constant dirty jokes – it was the small talk. Before class Sam and Jamie always wanted to talk. It was sweet, really, and it made her feel warm – but it also made her feel very nauseous. She’d look up at their chiseled faces and see Jamie’s dark eyes and Sam’s bright blue ones fixed solely on her and feel butterflies swarm her stomach. There was no escaping them.

  She’d thought about dawdling in the locker room, waiting right until class started, but she didn’t want to be late and make them wait. In the end, she tried it and it didn’t help. When she arrived, exactly three minutes after class had started, Jamie and Sam pounced on her.

  “We were worried about you,” Jamie told her, his dark eyes crinkling as he smiled. “You’re always here early.”

  “Did something happen?” Sam asked, his face all open concern.

  Tiffany wanted to sink into the floor. “N-no,” she stuttered. She could smell the heady mix of their sweat and cologne and she could feel her clit tingle as grew wet. “Nothing happened. The subway was just a bit slow.” She’d given them a weak smile and shrugged. “You know how it is sometimes.”

  “You take the subway here?” Jamie asked. “You should let us give you a ride. We carpool.”

  “Definitely,” said Sam, nodding enthusiastically.

  Oh shit, Tiffany thought. You have got to be kidding me. Stuck in a car making small talk with her two dream men and no escape. It was her worst nightmare.

  “N-no, no,” she stumbled, trying to think of a good excuse. “It’s really fine. I… uh… I do work on the subway. It’s my me time. But… thanks. That’s really considerate of you two.” She blushed. “You guys are always so sweet. I really appreciate it.”

  They beamed at her. “Hey, no worries, man,” said Sam, clapping her on the back. “You’re our
workout buddy. We’ve got to look after you.”

  Tiffany smiled and turned to the pull-up bar. Behind her, Sam cringed, slapping his palm to his forehead silently.

  Workout buddy? Jamie mouthed at him incredulously.

  I know, I know! Sam mouthed back. I panicked!

  Jamie rolled his eyes while Tiffany, blissfully unaware of their silent exchange, got into position.

  “Here,” Jamie smiled, with one last withering glance at Sam, “let me help you.”

  He laid one hand on the small of her back, taking her wrist in the other, helping her to stretch up to the bar. As she pulled herself up, she felt his hand slide lower, almost to the curve of her ass, before, suddenly, his touch vanished. Tiffany closed her eyes and told herself to concentrate.

  Another danger was the after class invitations. It was hard coming up with excuses twice a week without beginning to sound like a total spazz. Luckily, Jamie and Sam were protective enough of her that, no matter what she came up with, they took her side against the other guys. A fact that the other students did not let slide by unnoticed.

  “You two just want her all to yourself,” another student accused them after a few weeks of this. “You’re afraid that if she gets to know the rest of us, you’ll be out of the running!”

  The other guys had laughed, elbowing Jamie and Sam and egging them on.

  “Pfff,” Sam had replied. “You hear that shit, Jamie? Like we need to worry. She’s not blind, Joey,” he grinned at his fellow student.

  Jamie followed his lead. “It’s not her fault that you can’t accept the fact that she’s clearly already chosen the best-looking guys in the class. Isn’t that right, Tiffany?” he turned, grinning at her over his shoulder.

  Tiffany blushed and bit her lip. “Something like that,” she agreed, trying to keep her heart from exploding right then and there.

  Jamie’s smile grew wider. “See?” he turned back to the other guys. “You can’t fault her for having some standards. Now come on, let’s get going.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Sam asked as, finally, they headed to the men’s locker room.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I really do have work to get done.” It wasn’t really a lie – she had just started a new novel. Although it wasn’t due for days yet.

  “One day you really should come with us,” said Sam. “It’d be fun. We’re really not that bad, I swear.”

  “I know,” she replied. “And one day I will. I want to. I just…”

  “Have work to do,” Sam finished for her.

  “Yeah,” she replied lamely.

  “I get it,” he said and smiled encouragingly at her. “Well, see you next week, then.”

  Tiffany nodded. “Can’t wait,” she managed to get out. I wish you did get it, she thought as she watched Sam disappear into the change room. Next week was their last week of classes and Tiffany wasn’t sure if that made her happy or sad. On the one hand, she’d miss the sexual thrill of being so close to Jamie and Sam; on the other hand, she would not miss the debilitating social anxiety it caused her. Leaning against the locker room door, Tiffany contemplated the fans whirring high above her on the exposed concrete ceiling and sighed. What the hell was she going to do?

  Chapter 3

  Like with any problem she had ever had, Tiffany called Sara for advice.

  “Oh my God,” Sara nearly screamed once Tiffany had explained the situation, “you’ve been working out with your two crushes for nearly a month and you never told me?”

  Tiffany made a face. “It’s not like anything’s happened, Sara. You know me.”

  Sara huffed. “Ugh, do I ever. This is sooo typical. Here are these two major hunks going out of their way to invite you to a class and you insist that nothing’s going to happen. They’re obviously into you, Tiffany. Guys like that don’t bother talking to women unless they’re into them. It’s a sad but true fact. And Jesus, can you blame them? You’re drop dead gorgeous. Poor things probably go home and jerk off to you in their showers.”

  “What? Don’t be ridiculous, Sara.”

  “I’d bet you good money that they do.”

  “Look, you’re not helping. I don’t want them to want me. I just want…”

  “To fuck their brains out?”

  “Yeeeeees,” Tiffany moaned. “But I can’t. I’m too scared. And telling me they’re into me is just making me more scared.”

  Sara sighed gustily. “Okay, okay. You’re right. Who knows, maybe they just really admire your technique and this whole thing is entirely based on professional interest.”

  Both girls sat in silence for a second and then burst out laughing.

  “God, I wish,” said Tiffany. “Do you really think they’re into me, Sara?”

  “I’m sorry, honey, but I really think they are.”

  Tiffany groaned, burying her face in a pillow. “Why is this so hard?” she moaned.

  “It just takes practice, sweetie,” Sara reassured her. “And you just need more practice than most people.”

  “Tell me about it,” Tiffany moped.

  “Just promise me, however it ends, you’ll tell me all about it, okay?”

  “So that I can relive my humiliation?”

  “So that we can celebrate your triumph, honey. Think positive.”

  “If you say so,” said Tiffany, looking unconvinced.

  Tuesday rolled around faster than Tiffany had thought possible. Despite Sara’s attempts to reassure her, Tiffany couldn’t concentrate on anything all day. Her work sat unfinished on her computer screen and her laundry lay in a pile by the door, waiting in vain for her to take it down the street to the laundromat. Even her lunch – she’d ordered her favorite Pad Thai – sat half eaten next to her laptop. Tiffany had so many butterflies in her stomach there was no room for food, Pad Thai or no Pad Thai.

  Worst of all, even though Tuesday itself had arrived faster than expected, around 5 o’clock time ground to a halt and the last few hours before class seemed to stretch into eternity. Tiffany sat at her desk, one hand grabbing at her hair as the other tapped uselessly at her keyboard, one finger typing random strings of the letters then deleting them again.

  “Oh God, this is such a fucking disaster,” Tiffany groaned, letting her head fall onto the keyboard and filling her blank Word document with capital Gs. Livingstone didn’t respond. “I’m so nervous I’ll probably throw up halfway through class or something equally mortifying.”

  Just the thought of vomiting was enough to make Tiffany’s stomach heave.

  “Okay. Christ, Tiffany, pull yourself together.” Sitting up, Tiffany rubbed her face in her hands and went to get herself a glass of water. On the way, she checked the time on the phone. There was still an hour before class. She took a deep breath. It was time to do some yoga.

  Tiffany didn’t do much yoga as a rule – it wasn’t high energy enough for her. But it did help her to concentrate when she was feeling out of sorts – balance was not Tiffany’s strong suite and it took all her concentration to keep from falling on her face in certain poses. Hopefully, it would provide enough of a distraction that she could get to class with a clear head.

  She spent the next half hour doing the most complicated poses she knew, pushing herself to take each stretch as far as possible for as long as possible. By the end, she was surprised to find herself not only calm but also sweating lightly. “Maybe I should do this more often,” she told Livingstone as she got ready to go. “Probably wouldn’t hurt to stretch more often. Man, my back feels amazing.”

  Livingstone rustled his leaves in support.

  “Wish me luck,” she told the fern and, feeling surprisingly optimistic, headed for the subway. On the ride over she did her best to keep her mind focused on her latest story. She was only halfway through and she felt like it needed a bit more pizzazz. There was something missing, but she just couldn’t put her finger on what.

  The guys were
already limbering up at their various stations when she arrived. She had lingered in the women’s locker room so that she could arrive exactly on time and avoid any of the awkward pre-class chitchats that she knew would upset her hard-won calm. But, as soon as she walked in and Jamie and Sam caught sight of her, she knew it had all been for nothing. Just looking at them made her stomach cramp up and sweat break out along her hairline. What if they made her go out with them tonight? It was their second-to-last class. How on earth would she escape this time?

  Just don’t think about it, she told herself. Just keep cool. This is just another class. You’ve made it this far. You can do this. And, to her amazement, she met the men’s smiles with one of her own.

  “Hey, Tiffany,” Sam clapped her on the back, his thumb brushing the nape of her neck. “We were worried you wouldn’t make it.”