His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
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C A M I L A
I can't believe I'm going to that party tomorrow. Playing Cupid is hard.
Not too far from my place with Maddie, here stands a three-story building with black glass windows and a bright red neon sign glowing: FIRE BASE GYM.
Hood up, I make the trek inside.
Axel's at the front desk, his violet hair in an attempt at a Mohawk, but it looks more like a startled porcupine. He's got piercings that could set off a metal detector from a mile away and tattoos that tell stories I've never asked about.
"Delgado. You're not on the clock until eight," Axel says, the eyebrow with a barbell raising.
"Here for a workout first," I say.
I scan my Staff ID attached to my keys against the beeping post. Axel knows the hood-up means no-chat, so he turns his attention back to the clutter of papers in front of him.
I head deeper into the place, nodding here, smiling there.
After asking Maddie about this party idea—and after her excited shrieking—I called Fox's place to tell him. Jed answered, and said he'd been waiting for my call for ten minutes. I didn't need to know what kind of weird premonition that was, so I said, "Give the phone to Freckles." He did. Fox was pleased when I told him Maddie would be at this elusive GoldwenU Lacrosse party.
Parties. I've avoided them for almost all four years of my bachelor's degree so far. Loud. Crowded. Messy.
The staff locker room at Fire Base is a blur, my movements robotic.
"Hey, Delgado," says Jess in her red sweater tucked up under her sports bra.
I nod with a smile in return and open my locker to snatch my shoes.
See, the whole party idea sucks because Noah isn't coming. Fox told me. I was disappointed enough that I almost threw in the towel myself. But that would have been selfish; I made a deal.
With my bag of white powdered chalk, I head out to the main floor.
Fuck this. Why can't Noah be at the party too? Why can't I have a little something to look forward to?
This gym is a sprawling expanse of high-end equipment, the air tinged with the scent of rubber mats and sweat. It's fancy with sleek machines and polished floors.
If I could do push-ups, bench press or lat pull-downs, I would. But it hurts my chest too much.
It's the heavy weights, the hip thrust mechanism and the squat racks, that call to me instead. Lower body muscle shredding.
I rub chalk between my rough hands and clap. Puffs of white explode over my black hoodie.
It's an hour as I lose myself among the iron. It's busy, as always, the space filled with the sound of clanking weights and the steady hum of treadmills. But I block it all out. It's just me and my heartbeat.
