ᴀᴘʜʀᴏᴅɪᴛᴇ // $ᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴇʙᴏʏ$

Chapter Twenty Two

APHRODITE

I couldn't stay in that room any longer. I would lose my mind and destroy the place if I did. And when I told this to Scott one evening as he willed himself to fall asleep and pretended I wasn't there, he agreed to let me roam about the warehouse and the property with the storage units. But he said as soon as he saw me step even one small foot off the property without his consent to do so, the privilege would be gone.

I dressed for comfort, pulling on a pair of black shorts and a baggy grey cashmere sweater with my combat boots. I packed my black shorts without thinking the night at my apartment, and they were one of the few bottoms I had left that were still clean. My hair was freshly washed from yesterday in the small shower on the other side of the warehouse, the only bathroom a small room with a toilet, sink and shower. I kept my long blonde waves down and my lips were painted with the red lipstick I wore every day.

I had been feeling so horrible lately, so it was nice to get out of the room to adventure.

As I made my way down the hall to the warehouse, I saw five men standing and talking, all whom I had learned were a part of Scott's... group or whatever they were. They ignored me and carried on with their conversation.

I walked further into the warehouse and stopped when I heard the loud sounds of punching. It reminded me of when Mason had tried bringing me along to the gym with him, and the kickboxing classes he was obsessed with. I peeked over the corner into what I guessed was supposed to be some type of training room or makeshift gym. An old wooden door that led outside was open, letting the breeze swirl through the room. The large and very thick punching bag hung from the ceiling, taking the rights and lefts of Scott's destructive fists.

I put a hand on the corner of the concrete wall and watched. I peeked over a little further as he destroyed the bag with aggressive punches. He was half naked, wearing only black track pants, the somewhat disturbing sounds of his delivered hits echoed throughout the room. And because I was still feeling the lack of interest with my choices, I let my eyes travel along his bare tattooed skin, eyeing the way his muscles constricted inside his body with every thrust of his quick fists. He wasn't overly muscular, he was actually fairly skinny. But he did have just enough toned muscle to make him look a bit sexy. His skin seemed to shine from slight perspiration even with the cool air leaking through the open door, his sweat almost enhancing the contours of his body. His dreads were slightly wet in the front from sweat on his forehead. He moved with such a comfortable quickness and strength, his body seeming more at home as he trained than if he were doing anything else. I couldn't understand why I felt so insecure around his body every time I saw him shirtless. I saw him that way every night when he prepared for bed. Every night I saw him the way he was now, bare from the waist up, covered in tattoo ink, and almost seeming prideful with his physical structure.

And there it was again. That feeling I couldn't explain and that awareness I wanted to ignore as it snuck back inside me. That sensation in my lower stomach that pulled at me, something I couldn't comprehend every time I watched him. A feeling I could barely remember but wanted to.

I removed my gaze off Scott and rested my back against the wall, out of sight. I softly placed my hand on my stomach and tried to fall in tune with my body. The way I had been feeling lately, I felt like I was losing touch with myself. But I couldn't lose myself. I had to hold on. I closed my eyes and tried so hard to hold on.

Why can't I function?

"Aphrodite!" Scott's loud and sudden boom of a voice made me jump. I let my heart settle again before peeking back around the corner and saw him pacing about, his fists clenched and his head down as he steadied his breathing.