marigoldilocks:
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Garrett had been fit, he’d gone to this gym at least twice a week while he’d been alive. His family was bred on vanity and he’d believed that he would lose some part of himself if he didn’t have abs and a constantly evolving bench pressing number. Marigold had always been intimidated by the gym. She was a bike ride person, a morning jog person, a take the stars instead of the elevator person. Workouts intimidated her. But a change of heart had been taking her over the past few weeks, with everything going on all of her usual energy habits were failing to cut back on the tension building beneath her muscles. Something different. She needed something different.
Her eyes moved from his book, the glazed over disinterest in his eyes right before he addressed her, to the wall of free weights that she very strongly felt was not the place for her. “Hi. The website said you guys have classes. Um…are there any like beginner beginner kickboxing classes? Like for people who want to punch something but need serious assistance with hand-eye coordination?” She begins second guessing, flustered embarrassment making her fidget with her keys. “Or maybe I should do the yoga class. Or zumba…what the heck is zumba anyway? Is it just a rebranding of those dance routine aerobics workouts my mom used to do?”
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She nearly looked as lost as he felt staring down at his textbook. It was almost a comforting sight, though Drake didn’t know her. There weren’t many that came into the gym without knowing what they were doing or why they were there. Well, maybe except for the occasional drop in from Frankie or Edith aside.
He let her fidget with her keys for a moment, the jangle sounding out in the air before he smiled a bit more, relief written plainly on his face. He’d asked for a distraction, something to save him from the menacing words on the pages of his book and the universe had delivered. “If you’re looking for beginner’s kickboxing that would probably be with me, actually,” he said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. He was just starting to get into the intermediate stuff with Maggie after hours, so they were nearly in the same boat. “And zumba...” he paused, trying to find the right words to describe it. “You kind of hit the nail on the head. Just... maybe with a lot more sweat involved. It’s choreographed running.”
Why anyone would put themselves through either Drake still couldn’t figure out, and he’d been on a running regimen for months.
