Samantha
Friday evening, I lay on a maple four-poster bed in the middle of the Sky Lounge with Icy Hot slathered on my lower back.
The Sky Lounge is a room on the rooftop of the Recreational Center. The glass dome allows everyone in the room to see the stars at night, making them feel more relaxed.
I'm the only person here. It's perfect.
Except, of course, for my throbbing back. My body aches as if I've gone bungee jumping without a ripcord. Reggie, that bastard/assistant coach, had made us run three miles-at a sprint-followed by practice drills.
After that hellish practice, I didn't hesitate to rush over here for some me-time.
I reach for the jar of Icy Hot and realize it's empty. I sit up slowly, and put my hand on my back like an old woman. I just have to get some more from the Cloud Lounge, the neighbor relaxation room for males.
I walk barefoot across the cold gravel. After knocking on the Cloud Lounge's door several times, I push the door open, noticing that no one is inside.
I find a jar of Icy Hot in a cabinet, pull down my Puma warmup pants, twist around to see myself in the mirror, and start rubbing the balm all over my back and hamstrings. The Icy Hot's stinky methol smell instantly wafts around the room.
I close my eyes. The door bursts open. I try to pull my pants up as quickly as I can.
"Oh My God," says Will, his brown eyes wide. "I.. shit. I'm sorry."
"It's all right," I say, scrambling to tie my waistband.
The blond pauses in the doorway. I can feel him looking at me and I hastily look down to make sure my boob isn't hanging out and there isn't a glob of Icy Hot on my neck.
He asks, "So how's dorm life?"
I frown at his question. "Fine. How's it like living with Gutierrez?"
Will smiles wryly. "It's rather.. blue. I found a disturbing CD, too."
"Oh yeah? What?" I inquire.
"Phantom of the Opera." He grimaces.
"But aren't you into plays?" I blurt out.
"Well, Shakespeare and stuff." Will raises an eyebrow. "How'd you know that?"
My face goes pale. It might sound sort of weird if I tell him I'd Googled him. I shrug and lean back on the counter. A shooting pain explodes through my lower back, and I wince.
Will hesitates. "What's the matter?"
"Um, you know." I lean against the sink. "Field hockey again."
"What did you do this time?"
"Pulled something. See the Icy Hot?" Holding my towel in one hand, I reach for the jar, scoop some into my palm, and slide my hand down my pants to rub it into my hamstring. I groan slightly, hoping it's a sexy-sounding groan. Fine, so sue me for being a tiny bit dramatic.
"Do you need some help?"
I look at him reluctantly. But Will looks genuinely concerned. And it's excruciating--well, painful, anyway--to twist my back this way, even if I'm doing it on purpose.
"If you don't mind," I say softly. "Thanks."
I nudge the door a little more closed with my foot. I smear the Icy Hot goop from my hand onto his. Will's large hands feel sexy all covered in balm. I catch sight of our figures in the mirror and I shiver. We look strangely good together.
