A Season of Hopes and Dreams. Lynsey James

psychologist. I just noticed how quick you were to jump in with a joke about looking like a sumo wrestler. Which, by the way, you definitely don’t. You thought I was going to make fun of you, didn’t you?’

      I feel my nostrils flare Amanda-style and try to stop myself. No way do I want to be anything like her. At first, I think about telling Scott he’s wrong, but from the way he’s looking at me, I know he won’t buy it.

      ‘Yeah, I guess I did,’ I admit. I stop just short of admitting that people have made fun of my weight for years. That’s crossing the line into too much information.

      ‘Well, I wasn’t. I was actually going to say that, from the look of sheer panic on your face when you picked up a bit of speed, I guessed you weren’t a natural runner.’

      My cheeks burn even more and I drop my gaze to the floor tiles. ‘Well, I might not be a natural runner, but I’m an expert at jumping to conclusions! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to jump the gun.’

      Scott smiles and waves a hand dismissively. ‘Forget about it, it’s over and done with. I don’t think this will overstep my mark as a gym trainer…’ He pauses and grins as he parrots what I’ve just said to him. ‘But since you seem to attract trouble in every area of the gym, why don’t we do a workout together? Nothing complicated, just some cardio and weights and maybe some core if we have time at the end. I’m not sure you should be let loose in the gym on your own just yet.’

      I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. Although Scott hasn’t asked me out on a date – helping people in the gym is his job – I don’t feel confident enough to accept his offer. I’m already doing something that scares me by going to the reunion and, although this would help me conquer my body issues, the thought of working out one-on-one with Scott terrifies me. What if I make a complete fool of myself again? What if he sees things about me I’d rather keep hidden? What if, as I’m pushing my body to its limits, I end up exposing everything I don’t like about myself for him to see?

      That’s too many what ifs for my liking.

      ‘I… I can’t today, sorry. M-maybe another time, though.’ The words stumble out of my mouth and I hate how stupid I sound.

      Scott digs into his pocket and pulls out a small white card. ‘My contact details are on there. Whenever you’re ready to book a session, just give me a call and we’ll arrange something.’

      He presses it onto my palm and our hands touch for a brief second. My stomach does a funny little flip that I try very hard to ignore.

      ‘Thanks for this.’ I smile and stick the card in my purse. ‘I-I’d love to have a session with you.’

      Oh balls.

      ‘Would you? Very interesting!’ Scott laughs and strokes his stubble.

      I try to style out my double entendre with a chuckle and rub the back of my neck. ‘A gym session, I mean, not a… I-I’d better get going!’

      I take off in the direction of the changing rooms as fast as I can, wondering if I’ve embarrassed myself enough to warrant joining another gym.

      *

      Meeting Emma for a post-workout bite to eat makes a complicated day a thousand times worse. Not least because the subject of speed-dating is brought up.

      ‘It’s a really good idea,’ she says, pointing her fork at me. ‘You could find a ridiculously hot date to take to the reunion, and your new bucket list says you want to let yourself fall in love. You could kill two birds with one stone by going to the speed-dating event at the pub next week. Come on, it’ll be fun!’

      ‘I dunno, Emma, I’ve never fancied the idea of speed-dating; it all seems a bit impersonal. I really want to tick off stuff on my new bucket list, but I don’t think speed-dating’s going to help with the whole falling in love thing.’

      Emma grunts in frustration. ‘How do you know unless you try? You might meet the love of your life for all you know! He could walk into the room, sit down at your table and bam! You’re getting a joint bank account and picking out kids’ names before you know it.’

      I roll my eyes and laugh. ‘You know, I’d love to live in the world you live in. Everything’s so simple! You watch way too many romantic comedies, you know that, right?’

      ‘You’ve got me there,’ Emma agrees. ‘All jokes aside, we’ll have loads of fun if we go to this thing together. I mean, can you imagine the kind of blokes who’ll turn up to a speed-dating event in Silverdale? It’ll be a laugh if nothing else.’

      ‘OK,’ I say with a sigh, ‘I’ll do it. I’m not buying all that “you’ll find the love of your life” stuff, but it’ll be interesting to see who turns up!’

      Emma’s face breaks out into a beaming grin, and she starts babbling excitedly about how much fun it’ll be. As I listen to her, I stop for a moment to process what’s happened over the last few days. I’ve made a bucket list, agreed to go to a school reunion, and now I’m going speed-dating. I almost don’t recognise myself. The Cleo who stayed hidden in the shadows and watched other people have fun is a thing of the past. For the first time in over a decade, I’m opening myself up to new possibilities and adventures.

      Who knows what will happen next?

Chapter Eight

      One of the biggest challenges I’ve faced since joining Carb Counters is learning how to eat healthily. I don’t think there’s anyone out there who’ll disagree with me when I say it’s much easier to stick a pizza in the oven than make one from a tube of passata and a tortilla wrap.

      However, I’ve come to find I actually enjoy cooking. I’m even quite good at it, although I’m much better at baking. On tonight’s menu is homemade chicken and peanut butter curry, followed by some healthy brownie bites for pudding. As I stir the chicken coated in the curry sauce, I feel the aromas ensnare my senses. My mouth begins to water and my heart does a happy little dance in anticipation. I chuckle as I remember the time Marjorie tried to make ‘healthy’ sauce substitutes and sell them at meetings.

      ‘These are delicious alternatives to all those calorie-laden ones you get in the shops,’ she’d claimed. ‘Now you can enjoy all your favourite meals guilt-free. How fabulous is that?!’

      Not really, as it had turned out. For all of Marjorie’s wild claims, she’s actually a terrible cook and the sauces were rancid. Not least because she’d added way too much vinegar to the sweet and sour sauce, and overloaded the curry sauce with chilli powder.

      It’s time to taste my own creation. Carefully, I dip my finger into the sauce and put it to my lips. Just right, I think. It’s rich and creamy but with a little kick of chilli to stop it being bland. After a quick check to see the rice is properly cooked, I tip some of it onto a plate and take it through to the living room with me. My stomach grumbles impatiently as I sit down at my computer desk to tuck into it. Before I have a mouthful, I shake the mouse to bring up the screen I’d been looking at. I’m logged into Facebook and have Adam Hartwell’s name typed into the search bar. Before I’d gone to make my tea, I’d been about to look him up for the first time in ten years. Apprehension – plus my growling stomach – stopped me, but now I’m determined. There’s nothing a good chicken curry can’t help you accomplish, after all.

      My finger hovers over the Enter key and I’m just inches away from pressing it when the doorbell rings. I give a grunt of frustration as I haul myself up from my ridiculously uncomfortable computer chair; why do people always call round at the important moments? I throw open the door and find Emma standing outside, holding a huge bottle of wine and two glasses in her hands.

      ‘Hey!’ I try not to make my surprise too obvious, in case I’ve invited her round and forgotten. ‘You look… erm… happy!’

      Emma chuckles as she makes her way inside. ‘Don’t