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Post by Patrick Donnohan on Oct 2, 2008 21:31:18 GMT -6
Be Somebody.
That was the name of the fitness center that Patrick's dad had signed him up for. It was what his father wanted from him. And, to make sure he went (like he actually wouldn't) Patrick's dad was going with him. Most dudes were totally up for a day at the gym with their dad, but not Patrick. Sure, it was working out, one of the easiest things in the world for Patrick, but the fact that he was going with his dad made things so much worse. You see, his dad would never lay a hand on him, but he was pretty much out to make Pat's life living hell. Not intentionally, though. Patrick knew that his father was only trying to relive his 'glory days', but Pat hated how he was living it through him. And worse - now there would be witnesses to Patrick's suffering. The car ride was silent, Pat enver had much to say to his dad, but his dad usually found something to chatter about, whether it be new techniques or increasing his stamina, or whatever. Usually, Patrick just tuned him out. They were there in no time, and Patrick grabbed his duffle bag and headed inside, his father right behind him.
People said Pat resembled his father exactly, aside from the hair. While Pat was a fair blond, hid father had thick, dark locks that were closest to black, with a gray line around his head. He was stocky in his age, obviously very fit, but not without a little gut. The older man wore a dark polo and pants, while Patrick just wore a sleeve-cut shirt and jersey shorts. It was obvious Pat was going to be the one doing most of the working out. "Okay son, let's hi the weights." He said, and Patrick didn't reply, just headed over to the bench. "Let's try not to embarrass us, will you?" His dad mumbled, and Patrick just rolled his eyes. "Whatever, dad." He complied, putting up 150, good for someone his size. His dad spotted him, and he did ten easily. The burn in his arm helped him to forget his father's stare, the eyes with a look of expectancy. "Okay. 175. Try for five." Patrick paused a moment as his dad put on the weights, not exactly thrilled by this idea. But he managed four before he let out a harsh breath of air, putting it back up on the holds. "You could have gotten another one, Patrick." His father said sternly. Patrick ignored him, trying not to let his words get through. But everything his father said got through. A few more work-outs, each time his father harshly criticized, and each time Patrick took it with infuriated silence. "Okay, on to the tread-" But his sentence was interrupted by his phone, no doubt a business call. He answered, and started talking to someone else as he set the treadmill's settings at a jogging pace, holding his flat palm to Patrick. Five minutes.
Patrick's dad left the building, and Pat casually stepped on. it was an awkward pace, half run-half jog, but after turning the setting up a little, he found it easier to run. He had already taken off his shirt, finding that even the air-conditioned gym wasn't cool enough with that piece of cotton on his back. It was not hanging from his neck, like a necklace. He tried to concentrate - on the beeping of the treadmills around him, on the steady tempo of his shoes hitting the tread, of his heart rate increasing. Anything to block out his father.
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Post by Chloe Rose (MOD) on Oct 2, 2008 21:51:23 GMT -6
Her mother of course had to call Chloe and see how she was doing. One of the main topics that she brought up though was the 'freshman 15'. Of course, her mother knew that was mainly for high school kids, but she still asked. Chloe's cheeks had turned red with embarrasement as her mother asked her that question. It felt as if her mother either didn't trust her to watch or weight, or that her mother was calling her fat. Chloe of course said no she hadn't gained any weight, when really, she had. It was only a pound here and there, but it was enough to show just slightly on her usually perfectly slender belly. Now that her mom had mentioned it, Chloe couldn't help but see that little bit of belly fat wherever she went. It was more than just embarrassing, it was shameful. If her mother knew that she had been gaining weight and not working out she would have flipped a tit. So that was when the princess decided it was high time she got her butt in gear and went to the gym.
Of course, Westfield hadn't finished renovating their workout room. It was disappointing really. Shouldn't they have such necessities done before they opened the school? But there was no use fighting it. Chloe was just going to have to go to the regular gym and work out with the general public. It was almost nerve wracking to think of all the people that could be watching her and laughing at her for every little mistake, every little step she couldn't take. Chloe was suppose to be perfection. If she wasn't perfect, who would take her spot? The thought of someone moving into her position as 'leader' made her stomach hurt slightly. They would replace her, and as fast as they could.
Her hand rested on the bar hooked to the door as she pushed it in and looked around, side passing a man who she swore looked just like Patrick. The gym actually wasn't that bad. Even though their were a ton of sweaty people around, it smelled quite good. Not to mention the air-conditioning would help a ton once she started on the treadmill, her usual workout method. To her, there was no point in lifting weights. If she wanted to work her arms she'd do push ups. Crunches were especially helpful during cheerleading season, but she always did those after she burned some calories from running.
She set her bag of clothes against the wall behind the treadmills, pushing the pink bag out of the way so that people wouldn't trip on it. Chloe had worn her usual attire of black shorts, rolled up just one time so that the elastic on top was white, paired with her sports bra. True, Chloe wasn't very gifted in the boob department, and that made her feel more comfortable without a shirt on.
As the blond approached the treadmills her heart stopped. Just a few yards away was Patrick. He looked rather disgruntled and Chloe battled with herself over whether she should go over and talk to him. They had left with her wanted to give his mustang a good kick, which wasn't the best of things. So maybe she had better just hang back, make sure that really was Patrick. In her mind though, she knew it was him. Who else could it be? She stood frozen for a few seconds and then finally grabbed her pink ipod, putting it into the top of her sports bra, and started up her treadmill. All she wanted to do was blast her ipod and block out the world, just long enough that she could think.
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Post by Patrick Donnohan on Oct 2, 2008 22:30:54 GMT -6
There was a reason that Patrick was the way he was. Not the way he came off, almost perfect, untouchable, but why he put up such walls, this incredible facade that no one had ever been able to see through. Why he acted like a jerk, why he acted all suave, and make out with any girl with a pretty face. Because it was better having people judge this outer layer of him that knowing what he was really like, knowing that he was a sensitive teenaged boy who had been criticized all of his life. He wasn't strong enough, he wasn't big enough, he wasn't fast enough, he wasn't smart enough. These were all of the things he felt. All of the things drilled into his mind growing up in his household. No, he wasn't some abused child or anything, but there was a reason he didn't let people in. It was because he couldn't stand the hurt or pain. At least now, if someone hated him, it just bounced off because that wasn't really who he was. But if someone wound up hating him for who he really was, Patrick didn't know if he could take that.
But shallow, concieted patrick wasn't supposed to care about what people thought, was he? He wasn't supposed to have deep thoughts like that, but was only supposed to be able to think up until next Friday's game. Maybe the day after. But wide-receiver, number 84, Patrick Donnohan couldn't possibly have intelligent thoughts, now could he? No. Of course not. he had a perfect life, and got everything he wanted. His father was supportive, and his mother was totally unprotective. Perfect parents for a perfect kid, no? Yeah, and pigs flew.
His timer was up, five minutes, and his father stormed in. "Hey kid, I've gotta split. You've got money for a taxi, right? Okay. Stay for another half an hour, and go get something to eat. you really need to put some meat on those bones, kid." Patrick's father voiced, making Pat grind his teeth, but otherwise looking perfectly placated. He nodded, not bothering to watch his father's exit. He stayed on the treadmill, which had slowed to a walking pace. For a moment, Patrick looked down, wishing that he were a bastard child, but fate wouldn't give him such a thing. Nothing showed on his face. In fact, nothing ever showed on his face. He had gotten so good at hiding his feelings, or selectively showing other emotions that he now did it as a reflex. Pat used the towel to wipe off his forehead, before turning the treadmill off. He was so sick of it's constant beeping that he didn't know what he would do if he had to endure it once more. He stepped off, his knees aching. It was time for something else. He instantly spotted the grab bar that was used to do pull-ups, and made his way over.
His peripheral caught the sight of a few wicked hot girls, but also a few girls who's large muscles he actually found kind of repulsive. He was all in favor of a girl being fit, but she shouldn't even have to have half of what he did. That was pretty gross, actually. He passed the last one, and had to do a double-take. It was Chloe. Chloe Rose, the girl he'd met at a party. He smirked to himself, wondering how he could have picked a better spot to work out. Her treadmill was right next to the grab bar. Within moments, his hands were on the cold, metal pole, and he counted in his head as he managed a few slow, easy pull-ups. By fifteen, he started to feel a little burn in his arms, and by twenty he was really feeling it. But he didn't stop until twenty five, just because he knew he could, before slowly letting himself touch back down. "So you just couldn't stay away from me, now could you?" Patrick asked in a velvety voice, turning to face the blond girl as she went along on her treadmill.
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Post by Chloe Rose (MOD) on Oct 3, 2008 6:12:17 GMT -6
The treadmill Chloe was running on was set at a nice, easy pace. Not too fast, not too slow, and sometimes she set the incline as if she was running up a hill. At least she didn't have to run around town to workout her legs. The treadmill here was all she needed, especially the incline. Really, this wasn't so bad; just running, not completely worrying about who saw her. Maybe having to go to a public gym wasn't so bad. Not to mention it was really close to Westfield, it would be nice. Of course, the fact that Patrick just happened to be here made the fitness center just a little bit sweeter.
In her field of vision she saw the man she had passed before go up and talk to Patrick. His dad maybe? They did look really similar, but then again that didn't always mean anything. From experience, Chloe had figured that out. She, herself, looked exactly like her aunt. So you couldn't always just go by looks. Not to mention some people actually thought Chloe's mother was her sister. How embarrassing was that? Answer; a lot. Though her mom wasn't like one of those milfs, she just looked young from all the working out she did and how well she stayed in shape. Though, Chloe was sure there was a little botox added to that mix, but she'd never tell anyone that dirty little secret.
After a while her legs started to grow stiff. It had been too long since Miss Rose had last ran but she loved the feeling. In her mind, she was counting all the calories she was burning, while the music coming from her ipod blasted in her ears. Right now, the song she was listening to was 'Bad Girlfriend'. This song, was the ultimate workout song. At least that was what she thought. Just about any hard rock song was great. It seemed to work up her adrenaline, though she would never admit to anyone she listened to songs that were on the verge of being screamo. Those songs just seemed the best to listen to in her moods, or working out. She seemed to work ten times harder when she was listening to a good, hard, fast pace, song.
"So you just couldn't stay away from me, now could you?" The only bad thing about loud music, you can't hear a word. So when she looked up to see Patrick there, Chloe almost fell over. She could have sworn she was keeping good tabs on him and he was all the way over on the other side of the treadmills. Apparently, she was wrong. The good thing though, was that one of her ear phones had slipped out when she noticed he was there and heard what he had to say. She could have died right there. He'd probably get a kick out of her scare though, jerk.
"Oh my gosh, you scared the shit out of me!" The treadmill had stopped from her jerk, so she just stepped to the side of the treadmill, so she'd be closer to the height of the giant. He was always going to be taller than her, no matter how much she resented it. Then again, almost everyone was taller than Chloe. She was just gifted with the shortness gene. Lucky her.
"Yah Patrick, I just stalk you every chance I get." Chloe said laughing. Her body was now leaning against the bar that extended from the treadmill where people used to keep their balance. It did seem extremely weird that they would both meet here. She hadn't really thought about him much since the party, which was probably a good thing. Now that she saw him though, that was a different story. She couldn't help but looked at his lips and remember them against hers. Too bad it all seemed so long ago.
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