The Sweat Box

Chapter 1

Pulling into the driveway of the townhouse, I place the car in park, ignoring the annoying whine of the timing belt as the car shuts off. I need to get that fixed. Hell, I need a whole new car. But with no job and only two hundred bucks in my savings account, I’m stuck with this beat-up Honda Accord caked with rust until I finish school.

I spot Jimmy’s late-model silver Porsche parked in his space. I check the date and time on my phone to make sure I didn’t miss anything. He should be at practice.

After I graduated from high school, it all happened fast. My parents followed me to Penn State to make sure I made it to my dorm building the weekend before college started. By the following week, I was dating Jimmy.

He was a popular freshman because he played hockey. Everyone knew who Jimmy was. He was the kind of guy you knew was in the room as soon as you walked in. Guys wanted to be him, and girls wanted him. He had the guy-next-door vibe mixed with the bad-boy look. His eyes are the color of moss, and he is tall with an athletic frame, brown hair, and a nice smile. I felt lucky the night he walked up to me and asked to hang out.

Back home, my parents were overprotective. I wasn’t the popular girl guys gave a second thought about because I wasn’t allowed to go out on dates. My parents only allowed girls to come over and only when they were home. I was embarrassed and always turned down anyone who asked.

When I unlock the front door, the blast of cold air from the air conditioner cools my heated skin. I scan the cream- colored couches in the living room.

After three years of living together, I find it weird that he isn’t plopped on the couch watching TV.

“Hello,” I call out. There’s no response.

I notice the couch pillows are still in the same place I left them yesterday when I cleaned up. No dirty plates or cups litter the glass coffee table. He leaves a mess when he hangs out in the living room after he gets home from practice.

I place my handbag and keys on the table before heading up the wood stairs. When I reach the landing before the master bedroom, I smile, hoping I catch him taking a nap so I can crawl in, curl my limbs around his, and feel his warmth.

Pushing the door open, I hear the shower running from the en suite bathroom. The thought of him under the spray causes butterflies to swarm in my stomach in anticipation of joining him. I hope he doesn’t mind.

“Babe?” I call out.

The water stops running. A muffled noise comes from the bathroom, and the door opens.

Water drips from his brown hair down his chiseled chest and abs and disappears in the towel wrapped around his waist.

My smile dies a quick death along with my voice. The rapid beat from my chest pounds in my ears. It feels like I’ve been gut-punched. Behind him is a naked blonde frantically trying to cover herself with a robe—my robe.

“A-Ari…I—” he stutters.

My hand covers my mouth as I try to keep my chin from trembling. Promises and panic mingle with my tears. I can’t even think of the right words to say. It’s like I’m not even in my body. Do I scream? Do I cry? Do I ask why?

Letting the wave of hurt rush over me while trying to contain the tears threatening to spill, I close my eyes briefly. I remember him introducing me to her three months ago as his friend’s date. Her name is Mandy.

My eyes cut to her, and I let the truth sink deep with my eyes wide open. My self-esteem plummets even more with the way my favorite robe does nothing to contain the swell of her perfect breasts that are wet, ruining the silk material. I shouldn’t compare, but I do.

Her perfect body.

How pretty she looks fresh out of the shower, freshly fucked, and how he did that. He made her feel beautiful and allowed her to use my things like it didn’t matter—like I didn’t matter.

“Look, I can explain,” Jimmy says, holding his hands up.

Classy.

So fucking cliché, Jimmy. The next thing he’s going to say is that he loves me.

I move to leave but then whirl around to face them. “Please, baby...” He pauses, looks nervously at Mandy with an expression of guilt, looks back at me, and continues, “It was just sex.”

“Why?” I say in a shaky voice. “J-J…” I can’t say his name. I can’t?—

“I’m going to leave,” Mandy says, trying to tie the robe in a lame attempt to cover herself. She thinks she has a right to wear my robe after getting caught. She knows I’m with Jimmy and that we live together.

It’s the last straw when I see her step to the side, and the scent of my body wash floats in the air. She’s acting like she has a right to my things—to all I have. That she can leave like she isn’t part of the reason my heart feels like it has been ripped out of my chest.

Besides the heartbreak of Jimmy betraying me, my pride kicks in somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach. I push back the sting from my eyes. The needles prick my throat.

“No,” I tell her, finding my voice. “I’m leaving.” I glance at Jimmy and then back at her. “He’s all yours.”

I march toward the closet and open the white closet door with more force than necessary, not caring that the handle dents the drywall.

“Don’t go, Ari,” he says in a calm voice. “I care about you.”

“Oh… I can tell, Jimmy,” I say while I hop up to grab my suitcase by the handle and pull it off the top shelf.

The good thing about being broke is that I don’t have much to pack. We’re over. Nothing he can say will erase the image of them together in my head. I won’t believe anything he says. His words won’t fix this.

I walk around the room, grabbing my stuff, pushing all his shit to the floor, regretting every time I’ve cleaned up after him. I pull the drawer open, swipe up all my clothes, and stuff them in my suitcase. I’m glad I only need to pack two drawers and a small amount of clothes in the closet, plus six pairs of shoes and my toiletries in the bathroom.

“I’ve known her since high school,” Jimmy explains as if that makes fucking her behind my back a good enough reason.

I pause when I’m done with my clothes and shoes. Do I really need the stuff in the bathroom?

I’d have to walk in there, the place where my boyfriend just fucked another girl. Appalled and disgusted, I glance at the bed, blinking back the sting from the single tear that escapes, feeling like I’m being repeatedly stabbed.

I swallow hard, allowing anger to surface. “Then you should have asked Mandy to move in with you. You didn’t have to lie, Jimmy. I could have just stayed in the dorm. We could have stayed friends, but no, you told me you loved me and wanted me to move in with you so we could always be together.”

“You’re not leaving,” he says in a hard tone. Is he high?

I look up after flipping my suitcase closed, ignoring his last statement. “And I believed you.”

I have two options. Leave my shit in the bathroom and come back later, or I can go to the dollar store, buy cheap replacements that make my hair stiff and dry my skin like I rubbed chalk all over it. I also won’t have a flat iron or a blow dryer.

It takes me a split second to make my decision. The dollar store it is.

This is the story of my life, and Jimmy just shit all over it.

I’m broke.

I need a job.

I’m ten seconds from being homeless.

But I’d rather sleep in my car and eat gas station hot dogs than stay here and look at his smug face.

“Ari, is it?” I whirl around. What irritates me the most is that she acts like she doesn’t know who I am. “I’m really sorry,” she says apologetically. “You can have your robe back.” She grabs her clothes from her back near the night‐ stand to go change in the bathroom like she owns the place.

Jimmy’s eyes fall to her ass.

“You can keep it,” I shoot back before she shuts the door and turns to leave.

Jimmy blocks my path. His eyes dip to my hand, clutching my suitcase. “You’re not going anywhere, Ari.”

“Fuck you,” I say snidely.

He straightens to his full height. I’m amazed his towel is still wrapped around his waist. I try to shove past his hard body with my heavy suitcase, but he catches me by surprise and shoves me hard.

I fall, banging my shoulder against the solid wood dresser. Pain stabs my shoulder. My eyes widen. Fear slices through me at the anger filled in his green eyes.

“I don’t think you heard me, Ari,” he says evenly. “You’re overreacting.”

“I’m not! You pushed…” I scoot on the carpet toward the door when he steps closer, his fists clenched.

His eyes swing to the closed bathroom door and back. Then he lowers his voice. “You need to calm down. You’re not leaving me. Put the suitcase back.”

“No.”

“If you don’t”—he swallows—“I can’t guarantee what will happen next.” I’m shocked, stunned by the mad glint in his eyes. It makes my blood turn cold—the way his face sets and his eyes dilate. I can see the dark irises surrounded by moss green.

He takes another step, and my stomach swells with fear. The bathroom door swings open, and it’s my only chance. He turns toward Mandy. Tears fall unchecked down my cheeks as I get up. Pain radiates down my arm, but I push through it. I grab my suitcase and drag it down the stairs, not caring if I dent the walls as I take each step.

“Come back here, Ari! I’m not finished with you,” he yells.

Adrenaline spreads like fire. Blood is pumping in my ears when I reach the first floor. I grab my cell phone and keys and manage to pull the front door open like I’m running from a masked murderer in a slasher flick. The bright sun causes me to squint. Black spots appear like black-and-red butterflies, clouding my vision.

When I reach my car, I’m out of breath. My lungs are on fire. My heart pounds in my chest. My hands tremble when I fumble with the key to unlock the car. I blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the harsh light. My shoulder screams in pain when I toss my suitcase in the back. I slide in the driver’s seat, shut the door, and power up my piece of crap Honda, ignoring the cry of the timing belt. I back out of the driveway, hearing the tires scream between my sobs as I peel out, not caring which way I go as long as it’s away from Jimmy.