Chapter 6: The Edge of Cool
Aiden's sneakers crunched on the gravel outside Westbridge Fitness, the late November air sharp enough to make his breath visible. It was Monday morning, a week since his debate win at regionals and the college party that had left him buzzing. His gym bag bounced against his hip as he locked his bike, the routine feeling less like a chore now. His arms were sore from yesterday's workout, but the ache was familiar, almost comforting.
He wasn't jacked yet, but his T-shirts fit better, and the mirror didn't make him wince anymore. He pushed open the gym door, the smell of rubber mats and sweat hitting him like a wave.
Inside, the gym was quieter than usual, just a handful of early risers grunting through their sets. The hip-hop playlist was on low, and Aiden spotted Sophie near the squat rack, her short dark hair tucked under a black headband. She was in a gray tank top, setting up a barbell with focused precision. Aiden headed to the dumbbell rack, grabbing a pair of 25-pounders. He was up to ten reps per set now, a far cry from the shaky 15-pound curls he'd started with two months ago.
Sophie caught his eye and waved him over after his set. "You're looking less like a newbie," she said, racking her barbell. "That debate thing went well, huh? Saw your team's post on the school's page."
Aiden grinned, wiping his hands on his towel. "Yeah, we made semifinals. I didn't totally bomb, so that's a win."
She laughed, the sound cutting through the gym's hum. "Humble, huh? Bet you were killing it up there." She adjusted her headband, her expression softening. "You ever feel like you're pretending? Like, you're doing all this stuff, but you're still waiting for someone to call you out?"
Aiden paused, the question hitting closer than he expected. "All the time," he said, his voice quieter. "But it's working, right? People are starting to notice."
Sophie nodded, her eyes distant. "Yeah. I started coming here last year because I felt like I didn't fit in at college. Everyone's got their thing—art, sports, whatever—and I was just... there. This place makes me feel like I'm doing something."
Aiden leaned against the rack, surprised by her openness. Sophie always seemed so sure of herself, like she owned every room. "You? Not fitting in? You're, like, the coolest person here."
She smirked, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Fake it till you make it, right? You're getting there, though. You're not the same guy who almost dropped a dumbbell on his foot."
He laughed, his face warming. "Thanks for not letting me quit that day."
"Anytime," she said, grabbing her water bottle. "Wanna hit the bench? I'll spot you."
Aiden nodded, following her to the bench press. She loaded the bar with 25-pound plates, keeping it light but challenging. He pushed through eight reps, his form steadier than last time, with Sophie's hands hovering just in case. "You're getting strong," she said as he racked the bar. "Keep this up, and you'll be outlifting me by spring."
"Doubt it," Aiden said, sitting up, his chest heaving. But he was grinning, the kind of grin that felt foreign a few months ago. Sophie was easy to talk to, and for the first time, he felt like he belonged somewhere outside his usual orbit.
At school, the hallways were a blur of chatter and locker slams, the usual Monday chaos. Aiden's debate win had earned him a few nods from kids he barely knew, and his social media posts—mostly gym shots and debate flyers—were getting more likes. He wasn't popular, not like Lila or Matt, but he wasn't invisible anymore. It felt good, like he was finally stepping into a version of himself that could hold his own.
Debate practice was after school in Room 204, the air thick with the smell of whiteboard markers. Ms. Torres was at the front, outlining the semifinal strategy. Aiden was paired with Priya again, but a new guy, Ethan, was there—a senior from another school who'd transferred to Westbridge's team for the season. Ethan was tall, with a buzz cut and a smirk that screamed trouble. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, like he owned the room.
"Carter, you're with Ethan for a practice round," Ms. Torres said, her eyes sharp. "Topic: school funding should prioritize STEM over arts. You're pro."
Aiden nodded, his stomach tightening. Ethan's smirk widened as they took the front of the room. "You're the new kid, right?" Ethan said, his voice low enough that Ms. Torres couldn't hear. "Heard you got lucky at regionals. Don't expect it to last."
Aiden's jaw clenched, but he kept his cool. "Keep talking," he said, his tone steady. "I'll prove you wrong."
Ethan's opening was polished, all stats about job markets and tech growth. Aiden countered with arguments about STEM's benefits for critical thinking, citing a study he'd memorized. His delivery wasn't perfect—he stumbled once—but he held his ground, and Priya's rebuttal sealed the round. Ms. Torres nodded. "Good work, Carter. Ethan, tone down the attitude. Focus on the argument."
Ethan shrugged, but his eyes narrowed as he looked at Aiden. "We'll see how you do in semifinals, rookie."
Aiden didn't respond, but his blood was pumping. Ethan was a jerk, but he was good—better than most of the team. Aiden would have to step up if he wanted to keep his spot.
After practice, Aiden headed to a school charity event in the gym, a fundraiser for a local food bank. He'd signed up to help with setup, mostly to pad his college applications, but it felt good to be involved. The gym was decked out with tables of donated goods—canned food, clothes, books—and kids were milling around, some volunteering, others just there for the free snacks. Aiden was stacking boxes of canned soup when Lila walked in, her camera slung around her neck, her red hair catching the fluorescent lights.
His stomach did a quick flip, but he focused on the boxes, ignoring her. She'd tried to talk to him at the debate and the party, and both times he'd shut her down. He wasn't ready to deal with her, not when he was finally feeling like he was on solid ground.
Lila approached, her steps hesitant. "Hey, Aiden," she said, stopping a few feet away. "Didn't know you were volunteering."
"Yeah, just helping out," he said, not looking up. He moved another box, his movements deliberate.
She shifted her weight, her fingers fidgeting with her camera strap. "I'm taking photos for the paper. It's a good cause, right?"
"Sure," Aiden said, his tone flat. He kept stacking, hoping she'd take the hint.
She didn't. "I'm trying here, Aiden," she said, her voice low but firm. "I know I messed up at the rally. I didn't mean to hurt you."
Aiden paused, his hand on a box. Her words hit harder than he expected, stirring up the sting of that day—the snickers, the pitying looks. He turned to face her, his expression hard. "I'm busy, Lila. Maybe later." He grabbed another box, turning away. He wasn't ready to let her in, not after everything.
Lila's face fell, but she nodded and walked away, her camera clicking as she focused on a group of kids sorting clothes. Aiden's chest tightened, but he pushed it down. He wasn't here to fix things with her. He was here to keep moving forward.
At the diner after the event, Aiden sat across from Ryan, the smell of fries and coffee filling the air. Ryan was hunched over his laptop, his face tense as he typed. "Investor meeting was a bust," he said, not looking up. "Guy said my app's 'promising' but needs more data. Whatever that means."
"That sucks," Aiden said, dipping a fry in ketchup. "You'll figure it out, though. You always do."
Ryan snorted, closing his laptop. "Yeah, well, you're too busy being Mr. Popular to care. Debate star, college parties, girls fighting over you."
Aiden's face heated up. "Nobody's fighting over me. And I'm here, man. Chill."
Ryan sighed, leaning back in the booth. "I know. It's just... this startup's killing me. I thought it'd be easier."
Aiden nodded, his mind half on Ryan, half on Lila's words at the event. "You'll get there. Just keep grinding.
"Says the guy who's basically a superhero now," Ryan said, a grin breaking through. "Seriously, though, you're different. People are talking about you. Even Lila's freaking out."
Aiden's jaw tightened. "She's not freaking out. She's just... I don't know, feeling guilty."
Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Guilty, huh? Bet she's at home right now, stalking your posts."
"Whatever," Aiden said, but the thought sent a jolt through him. He didn't want to care what Lila thought, but he did. And that pissed him off.
Across town, Lila was in her room, her laptop open to a blank document for her journalism internship. Her camera sat on her desk, still loaded with photos from the charity event. She'd caught a shot of Aiden stacking boxes, his focus intense, his arms stronger than she remembered. She scrolled through her phone, landing on his latest post—a gym selfie with the caption No days off. It had forty likes already, more than any of her posts ever got.
Maya poked her head in, eating a bag of chips. "Still obsessing over Aiden's glow-up?" she teased, flopping onto Lila's bed. "You should just tell him you're sorry and move on."
"I tried," Lila said, closing her laptop. "He barely looked at me tonight."
Maya smirked. "Because he's, like, cool now. You had your chance, sis."
Lila rolled her eyes, but her stomach twisted. Maya wasn't wrong. Aiden wasn't the same guy she'd rejected at the rally. He was confident, focused, someone people noticed. And she'd pushed him away. She opened her phone again, staring at his post. Her thumb hovered over the like button, but she couldn't do it. Not yet.
Aiden was back in his room, his gym bag tossed on the floor, his phone buzzing with a text from Matt: Semifinals prep tomorrow. Bring your A-game. He typed a quick Got it, his mind still spinning from the day. The gym, Ethan's taunts, Lila's apology—it was a lot. He was on a roll, no question—debate, the gym, people like Sophie and Matt seeing him as more than a nobody. But Lila's voice at the event, soft and pleading, stuck with him. He shook it off, grabbing his debate handbook. He wasn't stopping for her—not now, not ever.