Chapter 58: The City Is Not Prepared For This Shit
David’s day ran its course the same way it always did.
After he left the dungeon site, he went back to the gym and picked up where he’d left off — more reps, more sets, the numbers climbing slow and steady the way he liked them.
The early morning sessions were still happening, technically, but the six AM slot that had been their personal time wasn’t really theirs anymore.
More clients had started showing up on time. Turned out punctuality was contagious. The quiet pocket they’d carved out for themselves had quietly filled in, and neither of them had said much about it. That was just how things went sometimes.
David didn’t dwell on it.
He had stats to move.
By the time afternoon rolled around, they were into the second block — two hours of conditioning drills, broken at the hour mark for water and whatever passed for conversation when you were both breathing hard.
Even with Virgin Touch taking the edge off, the fatigue was real. His legs knew it. His shoulders knew it. He knew it every time he reset his stance and thought, ’one more.’
A grunt punched out of him as the ground came up fast.
He’d been mid-shift when she caught him — weight distributed wrong by maybe an inch, half a beat too slow on the recovery — and that was all Mrs. Warbury needed. One controlled sweep and he was sitting on the gym floor, looking up at fluorescent lighting.
He got up.
She hadn’t moved. Still in stance, chin slightly tilted, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach amusement but was getting there.
"That really all you’ve got?"
David rolled his shoulder, reset his feet.
"Not even close."
"Better." Mrs. Warbury circled him slowly, eyes running the assessment. "Significantly. You’ve stopped telegraphing the shift." She stopped in front of him. "Now give me something I can work with."
David came at her.
It wasn’t clean — it was never clean with her — but there was intent behind it this time, pressure instead of just motion. He got a hand on her, actually made contact, worked the angle for half a second before she pivoted and used his own momentum to drag him sideways.
They hit the mat together in a tangle and right then, she was on top, forearm light across his chest, her weight pinning him easy as breathing.
She looked down at him.
"You almost had it."
"Almost."
She smiled — something smaller, closer. "You’re getting dangerous, David."
He held her gaze. ’Yeah. Catching up.’
The silence between them stretched just long enough.
Then a throat cleared.
Loud. Deliberate.
Ahem.
Both of them looked up.
Holly stood at the edge of the mat, hands folded in front of her, posture straight. She wasn’t looking at Mrs. Warbury. She was looking at him. The expression on her face wasn’t quite a glare — it was colder than that, quieter. The kind of look that had already done its math.
Mrs. Warbury was the first to move. She rose smoothly, brushed off her knees, and glanced between them with the careful neutrality of someone who had just clocked exactly what she’d walked into.
"Holly." She kept her voice light. "Am I interrupting something?"
A beat.
Then she laughed — soft, practiced — and stepped back. "Umm, I think I... think I’ll leave you two to it." She gave David one last look, something unreadable in it, and walked off toward the far end of the gym.
Which left David on the mat.
Still on his back.
Looking up at Holly.
He got up. Slow. Buying time he didn’t have.
"Hey—"
"How am I?" Holly said. Flat. "That’s what you were going to say, right? ’Hey, how are you?’"
David opened his mouth.
Closed it.
She stared at him. "I was expecting to hear from you last night, David."
Nothing he had was going to land right. He knew that. She knew that. The whole gym probably knew that.
’Ah, shit.’
David knew he should’ve called.
He’d had the chance since his return, yet he didn’t because he expected Holly to need space since he stood her up.
Yet, now Holly was standing in front of him with that look on her face, and the honest answer — I didn’t know what to say — was sitting somewhere at the bottom of his chest with no intention of coming up.
’There has to be something better than that.’
There wasn’t.
"I lost track of time," he said. "Training ran long and I just—"
"I listened to you, David." Her voice stayed even. "I was expecting you not to cancel."
"I didn’t cancel, I just—"
"You ran."
He went quiet.
She watched him. And the longer she looked at him, the more he noticed it — she wasn’t furious.Rather-
’She’s not offended. She’s disappointed.’
That was somehow worse.
"It wasn’t like that," he said.
"Then what was it like?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. The explanation existed somewhere, but every version of it he ran through his head sounded worse out loud than it did in his head.
’What am I supposed to answer to that? I was in an imaginative world where you gave me a handie?’
"...I’ll make it up to you."
Holly let out a short breath. Not quite a laugh. "Right."
"I mean it."
"You said that last time."
"Holly—"
"Don’t." She held up a hand. "Don’t do the thing where you look sincere and I reset. I’m not doing that."
David stepped closer. Dropped his voice. "Skip the session today. Both of us. I’ll call you at six, we go out — just the two of us. Actual plans. Actual follow-through."
She stared at him.
"It’s barely two now," he said. "That gives you four hours to decide I’m going to let you down again." He paused. "Or you could just be ready at six."
Silence.
"...Hmm..." she pondered audibly as she flickered her gaze at him. "Why am I suppose to believe you won’t stand me up again?"
" ’cause I promise you...I won’t." David said and following that was a long drag of silence between the two of them...until.
Sigh
"I know a Chinese place," she said finally.
He blinked. "Yeah?"
"It’s actually good. Not the kind of place you pick because it’s close." She looked at him levelly. "This is your last chance, David... don’t stand me up, please."
"I know."
She held the stare for one more second — then bumped her shoulder lightly against his arm as she turned to leave. "Six sharp, David. I mean it."
He watched her go, and only then did he exhale.
~~~
He was out of the shower in twenty minutes and moving with a purpose he hadn’t planned on having today.
Six o’clock. He’d picked it deliberately — enough time to handle something he’d been putting off since the first paycheck cleared. He had a little over five hundred now, and the way he looked walking around didn’t exactly reflect that. Small problem. Fixable problem.
He fixed it.
First stop was a barber — an actual barber, not the bathroom mirror scissors situation he’d been running for the better part of a year. He didn’t mention that part. The barber didn’t ask. What came off the top of his head in the next twenty minutes was, in David’s quiet opinion, a significant improvement on whatever he’d been doing before.
Then clothes. Nothing dramatic — he wasn’t trying to become someone else, just trying to look like he’d tried. He found a few things that worked, kept the total reasonable, and didn’t let himself look at the price tags on the stuff he couldn’t afford.
Cologne last. He took his time with that one.
By a few minutes till six, David was standing in front of his bedroom mirror in dark slim-fit jeans, a clean white fitted tee, and a charcoal jacket that sat on his shoulders like it had somewhere to be. New shoes. Fresh cut. The cologne doing exactly what cologne was supposed to do.
He looked himself over.
Turned slightly to the left.
’Mm! Look at this handsome devil! The city is not prepared for this shit.’ He said with a prideful tone.
He did deserve it. After living life as a mere commoner, complimenting himself was something he deserved at the very least now.
He picked up the cologne, gave himself one final spray and grabbed his jacket off the chair, ready for his date with Holly.
Time to not screw this up.
