Night Burn

Chapter 4

The A/C pumping through the facility feels amazing compared to the steamy locker room, and I bask in the artificial breeze as I walk to the exit. Quickly sidestepping the front desk, I make a beeline for the Exit.

As I reach out to grasp the handle of the large metal door, it swings away from me, causing me almost to lose my balance. My coffee, still mostly full, gurgles out of the hole in the lid and drips onto my pants and right shoe.

An annoyed sigh works its way through my lips as I right myself. I switch my coffee cup to the other hand and shake the excess liquid off my fingers.

"Shit, sorry!" a voice immediately in front of me says.

Looking up, I make eye contact with ... a silver athletic shirt stretched impossibly tight over a broad chest. I let my eyes travel up a tanned neck, square jaw, full mouth, and mostly perfect nose to finally land on a pair of warm brown eyes resting on me with an apologetic crinkle.

The tall, classically cute gym rat steps back and stretches a muscular arm outward, indicating I assume, that he's holding the door for me to pass him. I'm dumbfounded and motionless for a too long moment, short-circuiting reflexively at his hotness before I finally forward through the door.

Some of these guys should come with a fucking warning label...

I turn back to him to thank him for holding the door and bump directly into the very same chest that had previously rendered me speechless. It's as firm as it appears beneath the thin material of his shirt, and he smells nice too.

My nose is involuntarily pressed into his lightly perspiring pectoral muscles, and the force of the impact sends my coffee cup flying out of my hand and onto the pavement, where it splatters on both of our shoes in retaliation.

A set of large hands grip my upper arms to steady me, and I stand stock still, disoriented by the interaction and my still fragile state of mind. We are two pinballs colliding precariously off one another, and it could almost be thought of as cute had it not resulted in my right shoe becoming increasingly soggy as it soaked through with coffee.

Tall, dark, and handsome slowly pushes me backward and begins rambling a mixture of apologies and expletives.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm so sorry."

He looks down at the empty coffee cup that is starting to roll down the sidewalk and snatches it up, before tossing it squarely into the trash receptacle a few feet away.

I feel my eyes roll in exasperation at his nonchalant show of athleticism and look up at his handsome face. His awkwardness fills me with a brief moment of confidence, and I attempt to calm him down.

"It's perfectly fine. Not a big deal, really. I'm sorry about your shoes," I begin, looking down at the dark brown stains spattered across his white trainers. He looks down as if only just realizing I wasn't the only victim in our collision before giving me a small lopsided smile.

I watch as he flexes his toes under the soft fabric before pushing his left foot toward my own damp sneaker.

"Twins," he says with a small chuckle. A give a surprised laugh.

"I'm Noah." He sticks out a hand and I grasp it firmly, giving it a quick shake.

Typical All-American hottie with a typical All-American name. Go figure.

"Larke."

We stare at each other for another moment before I suddenly remember my tight timeline. Our hands are still connected, and I clear my throat, reluctantly pulling mine away. His hands are warm, and not in an uncomfortable way considering the heat of the day that surrounded us. I feel compelled to grab it back but think better of it.