"Awesome, keep it up."
"Not to be mean or anything, but I don't need motivation," I replied, laughing a little to make it sound like a joke even though I really wanted to be alone.
"You're right. Continue without me." Then the man walked away.
A man with spiky black hair who looked to be about 6 feet had come up to me while I was making my way toward the punching bag. He offered me his help even though I didn't need it. I don't understand why guys feel the need to help women in the gym when they're perfectly capable to operate on their own.
It was about 6:30 in the morning and I had made my way to the gym-sporing a pink tank with Pink in black lettering, dark gray short shorts, and pink and gray Nike sneakers with my hair in a simple ponytail-to be alone and clear my head. Dean was knocked out when I walked out and even though it was very early in the morning, it was humid outside.
"Don't punch a hole in it, now."
I snapped my head in the direction of the voice to see a man approaching. He looked a little like Dean except his hair was a slightly darker brown and he had fresh grass green eyes. Other than that he looked exactly like Dean. Same chiseled features, possibly same height and a dimple showed in his left cheek when he smiled at me.
"Oh don't worry," I simpered. "Nothing's gonna happen to your precious punching bag."
He laughed a little. "Rough morning?" he guessed.
"More like rough week," I sighed. "Something's been bothering me lately."
"Wanna talk about it?" he asked.
I looked at me in amusement. "I barely know you, dude."
He put his hands up. "My apologies," he said. "Where are my manners." He stuck his hand out towards me. "The name's Jackson."
"Well, Jackson, the name's Chelsea," I said, shaking his hand.
"So, what's been going on with you?" he questioned, leaning on a nearby weight rack.
"My friend's parents are throwing a party today and I'm nervous," I answered.
"Hey, my parents are throwing a party, too," he said. "But why are you nervous?"
"Not sure," I admitted. "Not to be cocky or anything, but I already know that the family's gonna like me."
"Then why are you stressing?" he asked.
I shrugged, shaking my head helplessly. "I guess it's because I have a feeling that's something bad's gonna happen."
Jackson shrugged. "You never know. So why are your friend's parents throwing a party, if you don't mind me asking," he said, pushing himself off the weight rack and holding the other end of the punching bag so that I could continue while talking.
I delivered my hardest right hook. "To announce to their friends and family that they're getting back together, something my friend and I already know, but we're still going for support. My friend and his mom just made up."
"My parents are getting back together too," he said. "What's your friend's name?"
"He's a professional wrestler. On screen his name's Dean Ambrose, but his real name's Jonathan." Jackson let go of the punching bag just as I went to punch with my left hand. The bag moved, lightly smacking into his chest. "What's the deal?" I asked.
"So, you're the girl my brother's been going on and on about?" he asked.
I frowned, but then put two and two together. I should've assumed this was the big brother, I mean with the looks and everything, but then heat rose to my cheeks a little. Dean talks about me to his brother? I wonder what he says.
"Yeah, I guess," I replied, taking the punching gloves off and putting them back on the shelf with the other pairs. "So," I said, as I unnecessarily made sure that the gloves were placed perfectly to avoid looking at Jackson head on, "Dean talks about me?"
"Oh, he won't shut up about you," he playfully groaned. "You're one of the main subjects in almost all of our conversations. I think he has it bad for you."
"Oh, whatever," I said, shrugging it off. "You're just over exaggerating."
"I promise you I'm not," he insisted. "It's true."
"Well," I replied, trying to steer the conversation to something else before I blushed like crazy, "do you know what else this party your parents are throwing is about? Besides the whole getting-back-together thing?"
He shook his head. "I know just as much as you, if not, less."
"Alright," I mumbled.
"But do you think you could take me to Jon?" he asked, smiling. "I haven't seen my little brother in a minute."
Jackson followed me to Residence Inn, the hotel Dean and I were staying at, and we got out of our cars, walking in.
"This place is nice," Jackson said, looking around.
Well it did have 4 stars. What did he expect?
I slide my room key in when we made it to our floor and walked inside.
"What is wrong with you?!" Dean screamed at me.
That was not the reaction I was expecting, especially since Jackson was standing right next to me. That's when I looked behind me. He wasn't there. "Excuse me?" I asked, forgetting Jackson's disappearance for a second. "What are you talking about?"
"I've been calling you for like half an hour!" he exclaimed angrily. "Why wouldn't you pick up?!"
I pushed the cheetah printed home button on my phone and looked down. I had 14 missed calls from Dean. "I'm sorry," I said. "I was at the gym and wasn't really paying attention to my phone. I had it on silent."
"Yeah, bro, cut her some slack."
Eyes huge, Dean looked over my shoulder. Jackson emerged from behind the door frame with a goofy grin on his face. "Jackson?" Dean asked as he slapped hands with his older brother. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to come and see you before we met up at Ma and Dad's party."
Dean nodded in understanding. "We should do something for a couple of hours before the party though. Got a little but of catching up to do."
"Well you guys can go on without me," I said as I plopped down on the couch and ripped my sneakers off. "I'm gonna take a little nap." I raised my arms over my head in a stretch. The Good brothers looked at each with amused smiles before attacking me. Dean took my left foot and stuffed it into my left sneakers as Jackson did the same with my right one. "Guys, stop!" I yelled as I was lifted off the couch and carried to the door over Dean's shoulder. I started pounding on his back even though it didn't seem to do much. "Put me down!"
"Hey, Jack, did you hear something?" Dean asked, looking at his brother in mock confusion.
Jackson returned the same expression. "No I didn't. Maybe it was a pesky mosquito."
They shrugged before closing the hotel bedroom door. "Pesky?" I exclaimed. "I am not pesky!"
"See, there's the noise again," Dean stated. I elbowed him in the back of the head which he coolly returned with a hard pinch to the back of my thigh.
Okay, so we're going.