Bad Rep

TWENTY

"What are you doing tonight?" Rhodes asks as he sits up from the bench press beside mine, wiping his palms on his gym shorts.

"Huh?" I grunt, my arms shaking as I struggle to push the bar back up onto the rack.

Rhodes pops up from the bench to help me, grabbing the bar and setting it on the rack above my head. I pant in relief and take his outstretched hand to help me sit up. Grabbing my water bottle at my feet, I guzzle a few swigs down before resting my elbows on my knees to catch my breath.

"What are you doing tonight?" he repeats.

My eyebrows pinch together. "Nothing. Why?"

"Want to go grab a drink?" he asks casually before turning to clean up the equipment.

I gape at the back of his dark head as he puts the weights back onto their corresponding racks. "Don't you have a competition on Sunday?" I question, knowing it's why he fully worked out with me today instead of just instructing like he normally does.

He shrugs a broad shoulder. "So?"

"So?" I parrot. "Don't you have to follow a crazy strict diet?" I ask, knowing Eli would go to extremes days before competition to make sure he would fit into the weight class he wanted.

Rhodes turns to me, frowning in confusion. "No?"

Now it's my turn to frown back at him.

"One drink," he presses, hopeful.

I bite the inside of my cheek in contemplation. "I don't know..." I hesitate.

He gives me a mildly exasperated look. "C'mon, I think you burned more than enough calories for one beer."

I scrunch up my nose. "I'm not really a fan of beer," I admit.

His eyes slightly roll. "Then I'll buy you one of those fruity cocktails."

I open my mouth to protest but he cuts me off, taking a step towards me, towering over me as those gray eyes darken.

"And I swear to God, if you make a comment about how many calories are in those things I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and drag your ass to the bar," he vows, voice low.

Something in his tone prickles my nerves, as well as my interest, surprisingly.

"Fine," I grit out, knowing I'd just be fighting a losing battle by arguing with him. Ultimately, he has the keys and he's my ride home. I can't really stop him from making any detours. Whether I like it or not.

His mouth tugs up into a smirk that I refrain from smacking right off of his face. "Great. Why don't you go grab your stuff and then meet me in my office."

I grumble out a response and head to the locker room. Rifling through my gym bag, I thankfully find a spare, clean shirt to change into and quickly wash my face and reapply some deodorant and perfume. Once I'm decent enough, I find my way to Rhodes's office to find the door closed, just slightly cracked open.

Confused, I cautiously open the door to find Rhodes sitting at his desk, eyes cast down, focusing on something below the desk that I can't see. When he hears me enter, he quickly scrambles with whatever he's fiddling with and shoves it into a drawer, locking it with a key.

"Ready to go?" he asks, standing.

A little taken aback, I nod and follow him out to the parking lot trying not to think about what's in that drawer. When we're about ten feet from the truck he tosses me his keys and I climb into the driver's seat while he throws our gym bags in the back before hopping in on the passenger side. We both buckle up and I back out of the parking space, ready to take a few laps around the parking lot.