Don't Do It

T w e n t y - f o u r

•Dylan's POV•

Exhaling sharply, I tighten the muscles in my arms so that they can lift the massive barbell in my hands.

Weightlifting isn't part of my routine when I go to the gym; it's a thing I do when I'm angry and need to calm down.

I manage to raise the barbell, holding it in the air for two seconds, before dropping it on the instrument where I found it. I've repeated this thirty times and now I'm exhausted and sweaty.

Sliding myself off the black bench, I remove my back from it and extend my hand, yanking my plastic water bottle from the floor.

Since I'm parched, the bottle is empty after two gulps. I twist it before throwing it on the floor, my jaw clenched and my breathing uneven.

I grab my towel, from my feet, and wipe my face slowly. As I'm staring into space, I think of that prick whom I call my brother.

Dean.

We haven't spoken to each other since I punched him in the face. Even though we live in the same house, we don't make any eye contact when we pass one another, or greet. We don't even want to be in the same room together.

This tension that's forming between us, it's getting worse everyday. Every action that's being carried out, every word that's not being said, every breath that's being held in.

Family dinners aren't the way they used to be. Mom and Dad eat together at the dining table, whilst Dean and I eat in our rooms. That's how much we can't stand each other.

Before Dean came, our family was just fine, having to deal with a few arguments here and there. But the important thing is that we were happy.

Everything is fucked up now that he's back.

Allowing an exasperated sigh to escape from my lips, I get up and take my Nike gym bag which is lying next to the bench, the blue towel still in my hand.

I saunter around the bench, and past people who are gyming as well. Most of them are on the treadmills, but there are some who are on the stationery bikes. There are also a few who are doing yoga.

I'm heading to the back of the gym because I want to freshen up. I'm sure my armpits stink. Even if they don't, it's better to be safe than sorry.

×××

•Jake's POV•

Placing a glass underneath the fridge's water dispenser, I watch as it automatically fills the glass up with ice-cold water. Afterwards, I take it and drink, the coldness of the water rejuvenating my mind.

I turn around and pace to the dining room, with the glass in my right hand. I don't want to leave Ari alone for a long time since I enjoy her company, and don't want her to think I'm avoiding her.

I must admit, it's taking everything in me to not do anything sexual with her. It's been weeks since we were intimate — I'm craving her touch so badly.

Victoria wasn't, and isn't, enough to please me. I mean, we kissed and it was good at the time, but now she's jumping to conclusions. She thinks I kissed her because I like her; I don't.

The reason I planted my lips on hers is because I was desperate, horny and sexually frustrated. The last time I had proper sex was with my ex-girlfriend, Lexi. We were an item for two months.

We broke up because she had to leave Bluebell High. Her father got a better job in Australia, so they moved. I sometimes feel like calling her, just to see if she's doing okay, but I never do.