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You got turned around a few times, but you finally found the fitness center. The building was wide and foreboding, but bustling with athletic types. You promised yourself to take advantage of it this term, not allowing your body to remain sedimentary amidst all your classes. It had taken you several weeks, but you're finally fulfilling that promise. You walk inside and immediately feel like a fish out of water. From the entrance stems multiple hallways, each with several fitness rooms branching off. You see dedicated rooms for weights and machines, a lap pool, a dance studio, even a turf field. You peer into a large gym that's already full of energy. Some individuals carry out their own fitness routines, while on the far side a game of basketball is in action. You can't help but watch with curiosity. They all move with such power, but with such ease. Each small team moves as a well oiled machine.
"You gonna join, or are you just here to watch?" An unfamiliar voice playfully questions with a nudge to the shoulder. What stands out to you first is her striking, dark pink hair. It's an edgy half shaved style with bangs that swoop to the side, shading her powder blue eyes. Taking in the rest of her, you become intimidated by how built she is. Broad shoulders, strong arms, and a powerful stance. She is definitely someone who frequents this place. You're a bit startled by her sudden appearance when you finally respond.
"Still deciding."
"Maybe you can decide on the bleachers, instead of in front of the door." She quirks an eyebrow with a teasing smirk. You suddenly become aware of your gaping position and shuffle into the gym. She chuckles a bit at your awkwardness and strides in behind you. "Haven't seen you here before." She prompts. Her ease of confidence is disarming.
"Yeah, I promised myself I'd try to exercise more."
"Well, feel free to jump in." She shoots you a wink and jogs over to the far side of the gym to join the game of basketball. People greet her with warm familiarity. She must come here a lot to be so comfortable. You walk over to the bleachers and set your bag down, just taking a moment to consider your options. You don't have your own routine to perform, and your eyes keep wandering to where that pink haired stranger plays. You take a breath, squaring your shoulders, and commit to your decision. You walk over to the game and stand on the outskirts of their play area. The woman notices you out of the corner of her way and gives you an inviting smile. "Hey guys, we got room for one more, right?" She calls to everyone. They all nod and agree, and she gestures for you to join. You naturally walk to stand next to her. "You know how to play?"
"I know the basics," you shrug. She pats you on the shoulder.
"Good, we'll help you out from there." She smiles. Her confidence is infectious as you find yourself smiling back. You take a few paces away and assume your best athletic stance. You think you hear her giggle under her breath. The match begins, everyone moving so fluidly around you. You do your best to keep up, even if you are a bit unsure. The woman manages to steal the ball from an opposing player. She doesn't get very far before the defense surrounds her. She looks around, scanning her options. She locks eyes with you and smiles, determined. She passes the ball to you. You catch it, a bit stunned by your sudden involvement. As the defense starts rushing towards you, you dribble the ball around the edge of the court. You land right next to the basket and decide to take the shot. You shoot the ball, and it bounces across the rim and off to the other side of the hoop. Disappointment stings at your chest for a moment. The woman is there in an instant and catches it, shooting you a wink. She passes it to you again, prompting you to take another shot. After being stunned for a moment, you focus on the hoop and shoot. The ball bounces around the rim, but eventually falls through the net. Everyone cheers your victory, the woman being particularly enthusiastic.
From there you get the hang of the game, catching and passing with ease, skillfully dribbling through the defense, and taking a few shots. You still feel a bit clumsy and uncoordinated, and you lose the ball plenty of times, but the pink haired woman is always there to encourage you. She'll run up to your side and give you tips, to which you listen adamantly. You're enjoying yourself so much that you don't pay attention to the passage of time. When you don't have the ball, you watch how she plays. She moves fast and confidently, pushing the defense and putting pressure on the offense. She utilizes her teammates, but also indulges in some independence, keeping the ball close with her. She very clearly knows the ins and outs of the game, moving intently. You try to learn from her and keep up. The ball gets passed to you, but someone rushes to guard you. You try to get past them but they have you separated from all your other teammates. In a bold maneuver you try to rush round them, but you trip over their foot. Your ankle stretches and twists in a way it shouldn't, making you cry out as you hit the court hard. You push yourself up a bit, then feel hands on your shoulders, helping you up. The pink haired woman helps you sit and stretch your leg out. Your ankle is already swollen and red and radiates pain.
"You guys keep playing, I got this." She calls out. She scoops you into her arms like you weigh nothing. You didn't know where to put your arms, so you wrapped them around her neck in hopes to keep them out of the way. You think you spotted a smirk on her face at the action. She walks you to the bleachers and sets you down on the first level. She kneels in front of you and gingerly removes your shoe and sock off of your injured leg, and begins slowly rotating it. "Tell me when it hurts." She says confidently, eyes focused on your ankle. You can already see the beginnings of a nasty black and blue bruise around the joint. She's careful with her movements, analyzing how each and every muscle feels beneath her fingers. You wince as she moves your ankle in such a way that a sharp pain shoots up your leg.
"There." You say between gritted teeth. She nods and stands, heading for her backpack on the bleachers not too far from you. She comes back with a bandage roll and begins expertly wrapping your ankle. She positions it at the perfect angle that alleviates most of the pressure. She works both quickly and with precision, making sure the wrap is snug but not too tight.
"There you go," she starts, admiring her work. Her eyes meet yours, sure and steady. "Keep that on the rest of the day, I can redo it for you tomorrow. If you have crutches I'd suggest using those for about a week. If you don't I can bring you mine."
"You're quite the doctor," you tease. You're impressed by how quickly she acted, and with such skill.
"Not a doctor, just an athlete," she replies with a wink. You can't both help but laugh at her naturally cocky demeanor. Instead of returning to the game the way you thought she would, she takes the seat next to you. Her shoulder brushes against yours, sending butterflies to your stomach. "You said this was your first time here?"
"Yeah. I'm not as much of an athlete as you are, but I figured I'd give it a shot." You reply shyly. She smiles.
"You didn't do too bad for a noob." She gently nudges your shoulder with hers. "If basketball isn't your thing, I wouldn't mind showing you some other options."
"How many sports do you do?" You ask with astonishment.
"Enough to keep my body in shape and my mind sharp. Not all of us are the academic kind." You find your eyes raking over her muscular form again. It's obvious how much time she puts into her fitness. You're curious exactly how far her expertise extends. "What about you," she interrupts your silent observing. "You the academic type?"
"More than I am the sporty type, at least. I'm just in general studies, nothing too fancy."
"That just means you're good at a little bit of everything." She shoots you a kind half smile. "How about this: I help you with exercising, and you help me with actual schooling." You're taken aback by her proposal, and her eagerness to spend more time with you. You nod.
"That'd be perfect!" She holds out her hand to you.
"I'm Vi." You take her hand and give her your name. You both spend the next few minutes simply indulging in one another's company. You share banter and laughs, warming up to each other even more as the time passes. Vi is witty and self-assured, and laughs with her whole chest. Her energy is infectious. You eventually exchange numbers, already planning your first study session. She helps you stand and puts an arm around you, supporting you as you limp back to your dorm. You both say your goodbyes with the promise of seeing each other again soon.