Knockout (Gaslight spin-off)

28|Things are lookin' up

For the rest of the week, I pretend like nothing happened. When I'm not busy at school, I'm either proving to Coach that I'm no longer a troublemaker or proving to Nico our kiss meant nothing; both of which are lies.

In my defense, they are necessary lies. My fight with Katarina is closer than ever, the gym is hanging by a thread, and the last thing I need is to fall for my coach, not least because everyone hates him. The problem is, while lying through my teeth to others is easy, I can't seem to lie to myself.

When Monday comes, I climb out of bed and pull on my gym clothes. As proud as I am of the way I fought with Maddie, it's clear I need to improve my stamina, so I've been starting each morning with a five am jog. As much as I hate it, it's working.

I pull on my sports bra, briefly remembering the way Nico's thumb had brushed across my chest. My skin burns, and it's as if his touch is imprinted on the material, another reminder of that night.

Bad, bad, Cassie. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, only opening them again when the burn is gone. I figured us forgetting about the kiss would make everything normal, but the last few days of training have been awkward. I pretty much remain silent unless he's giving me an order, and even then, I don't respond in my typical sarcastic manner. I do as I'm told, avoiding his gaze while attempting to forget, but clearly, it's verging on impossible.

With a click of my knuckles, I slip on my AirPods and head out. The street is quiet at this time of morning, as if someone pressed pause on the world. Maybe this makes me completely anti-social, but I love it.

I stand on the sidewalk, spending a few minutes stretching as I take in the sky. The sun hasn't risen yet, but a soft glow on the horizon turns the sky a pinkish orange. I take a deep breath, breathe in the cool, crisp air, and jog a few times around the block.

By the time I reach my street again, I'm dripping with sweat. I head inside, breathless and aching and wanting to die, but it's a good pain, the kind that floods you with endorphins. I head upstairs to shower and change, taking so long that by the time I'm finished, my mother is waiting in the kitchen with a long list of things I need to post to GymCon's Instagram.

I sit in front of my plate of pancakes, skimming her Ipad's checklist with one hand while pouring myself some orange juice with the other. "You want me to take a picture of Coach? He'll hate that."

She peers over my shoulder, still clutching her coffee, and frowns. "I've been researching your gym," she says, "and I think a post about the coach might garner what I like to call 'sympathy engagement.'"

I stop eating my pancakes to look at her. "Meaning?"

"Meaning," she says, sitting opposite, "there are a few key things people look for in a post: a cute animal, a hot person, or an underdog. Your coach falls into the latter."

I ignore the way she talks about him like a prop instead of a human and tell myself she's just trying to help. In fact, despite the fact it's hard to admit it, this is the longest we've gone without arguing. For once, we have something in common.

"I'll see what I can do," I say, "but I think he hates taking pictures as much as I do."

She returns to her phone, and I pull out my own before sending a good morning message to Daisy. I'll admit, I feel like I've been neglecting her lately in favor of training, so I'm trying to earn myself some brownie points. She sends a kiss face back, letting me know I've been forgiven.

When Cody walks in, he swiftly ducks away from my hand and slinks into the seat opposite. He's quieter than normal, fixated on his pancakes like they're the most fascinating thing in the world. Clearly, he's still having issues at school.