4. Seth
Early morning lifts both suck ass and keep me fit in equal measure. While I love the lifts, I don’t like that my time slot for weight lifting is at six in the morning. I turn off the alarm on my phone and roll over. The other side of my bed is empty, as it has been for months. To be honest, I don’t miss having occasional company. I’ve been focusing on physical training, grades, and getting all I can out of this last year of college. I haven’t had time to date. Or hook up. Or spend the time necessary to bring someone home with me.
I have a reputation at the school, but to be honest, the stories are grossly exaggerated. I don’t take nearly as many women home as people think I do.
I get dressed in workout clothes, shrug into a zippered hoodie, and put on a beanie. I let myself out into the cold, the air so fresh and dewy that I can see my breath as I step outside.
I usually jog to the athletic center for workouts, but as I turn the corner, I see a familiar face run down the path toward the running trails that enter the woods. Or rather, I see a familiar ass—Gabby’s. Round and perfect in a pair of leggings, it is a sight to see. I can see the puffs of her breath in the cold air, her dark ponytail bobbing as it rises and falls with each step.
What I don’t understand, though, is why she is disappearing alone into an unpopulated area.
I watch as she disappears from sight, and something niggles at the back of my brain. I pull out my phone and text the coach to let him know I will be lifting a little later in the morning after everyone else is done, and I take off after Gabby.
I follow her into the damp overhang of the trees, my feet loud against the frozen grass as I run to catch up with her. She is in the zone with her earbuds in, and every now and then, she stops to pump her arms or shake her head back and forth in time with the music. She is oblivious to the fact that she is vulnerable, and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. I call out her name, but she doesn’t hear me.
“Gabby!” I call again. I don’t want to startle her, but I want her to know I am here.
Suddenly, she stops, and I jog up closer.
She spins, thrusts out a hand, and my eyes and nose suddenly clog with pepper spray.
“Fuck!” I cry as I try to get out of the blast zone. I duck, but she follows my dropping body, spraying as I go down. “Jesus fuck,” I breathe, covering my eyes with my forearm.
“Seth?” she says as she finally looks at me. She gasps. “Oh, my God!” she cries.
“Motherfuck, that hurts.” She kneels next to me and rolls me over. I lay on the path, still unable to take a breath for all the pepper spray in the air, with my eyes on fire, my nose running like a sieve, and my guts flipping like I need to throw up.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “I didn’t know it was you.” She coughs as she covers her mouth with her elbow. “We need to get out of the spray zone.” She grabs me under my armpits and half drags me out of the spray area. It doesn’t help.
I reach up to wipe my eyes. “Don’t touch them,” she warns as she grabs my wrists and holds them down. “Let me see.”
I blink, but my eyes sting like they”re on fire. I wipe across them with my forearm. “Don’t, Seth,” she warns as she reaches for the water pack on her back. It has a small hose that is connected to a bag. “Let me wash them out. Be still.”
She tips my head back as she slowly drips water into one eye and then the other. She tilts my head from side to side so the peppered water will run down my temples. “Is that any better?” she asks.
“No,” I say, my nose still running. I am sure I have snot and tears all over my face. She lifts the tail of her shirt and wipes my nose like I did for my sisters when they were small. “Gross,” I say.
“Yeah, well, needs must.”
Footfalls sound on the path, and two people run up. All I can see is their silhouettes, but one is a woman, and one is a man. “Gabby?” one of them says.
“Yeah, hey,” she says warily.
“Are you okay?” a feminine voice asks. “Should I call security?”
“No,” Gabby says with a sigh. “I made a mistake.”
“Big mistake,” the guy says.
It wasn’t a mistake. She did exactly what she should have done when she noticed a man following her on a deserted path through the woods. It was the same thing I would have told my sisters to do.
“Are you all right, man?” the guy asks.
“Fine,” I say as I get to my feet. I stumble, still tasting the pepper spray in my mouth. I lift the tail of my own shirt and wipe my nose.
“Don’t,” Gabby says, grabbing my wrist again. “You’ll make it worse. The pepper spray is probably all over your shirt.”
“I’d hate to see worse,” I grunt out.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “It was a reflex.”
“Good reflexes. I’m going to go now,” I say. I start to walk, but everything is still blurry.
“Wait, I’ll come with you.” She still holds my wrist, and she isn’t letting go. “I’ll see you guys later,” she says to the two.
“You want us to wait for you?” the guy asks.
“No, I don’t think so. I can run later.” She walks beside me, still holding my wrist, which is good because I can only see outlines of shapes. She is quiet; the only sound is the crunch of our sneakers on the frozen grass. “Are you okay, Seth?” she asks quietly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”
“I called out to you.”
“I didn’t hear you.”
“You shouldn’t run with earbuds in,” I warn. “It keeps you from hearing what’s going on around you.”
“Right around the corner was a group of people I run with every day,” she explains. “I wasn’t going far alone.”
“Oh.” Now I feel utterly ridiculous. “My fault,” I say. “I should have let you be.”
She pulls me between two cars and onto the sidewalk.
“I just saw you behind me, and you kept getting closer and closer, and most people will move to one side rather than running right behind me.” Her voice gets smaller. “I thought you had bad intentions, and I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say. I push one side of my nose closed and blow a big snot ball out the other.
She laughs. “That was impressive.”
“And rude,” I say. My mother would be appalled. “But I can’t breathe.” I sniffle back more snot. I close the other side of my nose and do the same there.
She laughs again. “Gross.”
“Well, needs must,” I say, copying what she earlier said.
“Needs must,” she agrees.
“Which room is yours?” she asks as we go up the elevator. I usually take the stairs, but I still can’t see my feet.
I tell her where to go, and she takes my key from me, sticks it in the lock, and opens the door.
“Thanks,” I say, “for seeing me home.”
Instead of leaving, she walks inside with me.
“Let’s get you in the shower, and then I want to take a look at those eyes.” She pulls me toward the bathroom. I thought she’d leave after she brought me home, but apparently, I was wrong. She unzips my coat and pushes it off my shoulders. My eyes are still stinging like a son of a bitch, but I can breathe, at least, until she gets my shirt up and in front of my face. My eyes water as she pulls it up and over my head. She yanks the beanie from my head and tosses it onto the pile of discarded clothing.
Then she goes for the string on my sweats. Her hands wander until she finds the ends, and she tugs. I feel them grow loose as she hooks her thumbs into the waistband and starts to shove them down.
“Whoa!” I cry as I grab for the waistband. “Hang on!” I say. “I can do that.”
“Oh,” she says. “I didn’t take you for being shy. It’s not like you don’t have on underwear.”
Instead of quibbling, though, she turns around and starts the shower. “In you go,” she says with a guiding hand on my shoulder.
“Turn around,” I warn.
She spins with a huff of frustrated breath and says, “Good grief, Seth.”
“Got to leave a man with some dignity,” I grumble as I shove my briefs down and step into the flow of water from the shower head. I pull the curtain closed, but suddenly, there she is. She reaches an arm into the shower area, lifts the detachable shower head, and says, “Tilt your head back a little.”
She guides my head with a finger under my chin, her touch gentle but firm.
I grab the edge of the shower curtain and lift it to cover my junk. She gently flushes my eyes and skin, paying close attention to my nose. Then she soaps a washcloth and applies it to my forehead, cheeks, and chin, washing me gently and removing all the spray.
She moves across my shoulders and arms as I stand there with my eyes closed. Her gentle circles move across my chest. The washcloth is soft and soapy, sliding across my skin in her gentle grip. My breath hitches as she sweeps lower. I grab her hand. “I think you got it all.”
“Are you sure?” she says.
“Yeah,” I say as I blink my eyes open. My gaze meets hers, which is, for the first time ever, soft and open. Concerned. Worried. It’s not wary or guarded. “I can do it,” I say.
“Want me to wash your hair?” she asks.
Yes, yes, I do. The idea of her fingers in my hair nearly turns me to mush. But I say, “No, I can do it.”
“Seth, I’m really sorry,” she says. “It seems like every time we’re together, you end up getting hurt.”
“Seems like it,” I say as I turn my back to her, dropping shampoo into my palm and washing my hair.
I hear the bathroom door close, which is good because I can finally take a deep breath. I wash, blow my nose a few more times, and get out of the shower. I towel my hair dry, wrap the towel around my waist, and step out of the bathroom. Gabby is nowhere in sight.
I’d hoped she’d stay. But she hasn’t. I walk to the fridge and get a drink. My eyes are still uncomfortable, but I can at least see now.
I sit in absolute misery on my couch, staring up at the ceiling for about five minutes. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go. I was supposed to go to lifts, work out, go to class, and then I’d hoped to bump into Gabby in the weight room, ask her to dinner, and get her to spend some time with me.
Instead, she spent miserable minutes with me.
Mainly because I’m an idiot.
The doorknob turns, and I hear the hinges squeak as it opens. I don’t have a roommate, so I turn to see who it is. Gabby walks into the room. “You’re out,” she says. “I’m so glad.”
She looks at my towel, which is still wrapped around my waist.
“Do you need help getting dressed?” she asks.
“How did you get in here?” I ask, glancing between her and the door.
She reaches into her pocket and pulls out my keychain. “I swiped your keys on the way to the laundry. I didn’t want the pepper-sprayed clothing to stink up the whole apartment.”
Suddenly, I realize that she’s wearing one of my shirts. I know it’s mine because it has my name on the sleeve. It’s some of the wrestling gear they give us for meets every year.
“I borrowed a shirt. Your closet was open. Mine smelled like pepper spray, so I threw it in the wash with yours. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Make yourself at home,” I say, my voice droll.
Truthfully, I like how she looks in my shirt. It’s big enough to hang to the tops of her thighs, and she looks comfortable and soft.
She comes to sit next to me. “How are your eyes?”
“Stinging,” I say.
“Seth, I can’t apologize enough.”
“You did the right thing,” I assure her. “Who taught you to do that?”
“My Jake,” I admit. “He got me a bunch of personal protection equipment my first year of college.” She winces. “I must admit that I’ve never used any of it.”
“Your Jake?” I ask.
Her face turns red. “My stepdad.”
She had told me about how he wasn’t her dad but how special he was to her, but she didn’t tell me this. “You call him your Jake?”
She shrugs. “Well, he’s not my dad, so yeah.”
I smile. “I bet he loves that.”
“He’s never seemed to mind.” She looks slightly chagrined. “I’ve never actually said it in front of him, but when I think of him, that’s how I think. My dad. My mom. My sisters and brothers. My pop. And my Jake.”
“That’s sweet.” I lay my head back on the couch and look at her. “I’m glad you sprayed me. I’m glad you can take care of yourself.”
She leans forward and pulls one of my lower lids down very gently. “Your eyes are telling me something else. They are more than a little mad at me.”
Yeah, well, so does my dick every time she leans close to me. “I need some pants,” I rush to say.
She smiles as I get up and go to the bedroom to get dressed.
When I go back out, I find her bent over in front of the refrigerator, rummaging around. “Do you feel like some breakfast?” she calls out. “I’m starving!” She turns around and finds me right behind her. She startles and laughs. “There you are.”
I sit down on the stool across the counter from her. “If you’re cooking, I want breakfast,” I say as I rest my chin against the heel of my upturned palm and watch her.
She makes eggs and toast, and she eats really quickly, glancing at her watch. “Are you well enough for me to leave you for a little while?”
I nod. “I’m fine.”
“I’ve got a class.” She winces. “I wish I didn’t.”
Fuck, I do too. “Go. I’m fine. I don’t want you to be late.”
She rushes out the door, suddenly skidding to a stop. “Your shirt,” she says.
“Wear it. I’ll get yours out of the wash and return it to you later.”
“Are you sure?” She looks so damn cute right now that it’s hard to catch my breath.
“Positive,” I say with a nod. It’ll give me an excuse to see her later. I need one.
She smiles and waves. “Okay,” she says, “I’ll see you later.” She turns back. “At practice?”
I nod. I’m suddenly speechless, apparently.
“See you then,” she says as she dashes out the door.
I stand in awe of her as I stare at the door she just left through. What the fuck was that? And why did it feel so right?