5. Lisa
Lisa
My heavy breathing overpowers the sound of my footfalls as I slow the treadmill down, coming to a walking pace. I wipe the sweat from my brow and stare down at the number. Nine miles. The university’s gym has all sorts of equipment, but the treadmill is my weapon of choice.
I grin triumphantly. “Patty, come check it out!”
My roommate, Patty, ambles over, still carrying her barbells. She gawks down at the treadmill screen. “Nice work. You’ll be running a marathon in no time.”
I groan and press stop, coming to a halt on the track. “I don’t think I have the patience for that. I just want to keep up with Austin.”
Patty’s gaze slides past me and she smiles. “Speak of the devil.”
Before I can glance behind me, I feel the strong, solid muscle of Austin’s arm as it winds around me. He pinches my waist. “God damn! Look at how toned you’re getting.”
“Nine miles.” I grin up at him and he gazes down at me, pride written across his face.
“Whew,” he whistles. “My little workout machine. You’re looking great.”
“Gross,” Patty gags. “Get a room, you two.”
I smile and lean into Austin. “We already are, remember? I really can’t wait to move in with you next year.”
Patty swats at me playfully. “Hey!” she exclaims. “What about your amazing roommate? What were our first two years of college to you? Am I chopped liver?”
I roll my eyes at her and grin. “Oh, stop pretending I’m ditching you. We’ll still be roommates next year, just not in the literal same room. Plus, you’re the one who decided you wanted to move in with your hot, older boyfriend first.”
“Well, I guess it was meant to be that your age-appropriate boyfriend is my boyfriend’s brother.” Patty grins. “The way I see it, since we’ll still technically be roomies, we’re all winning.”
As I gaze back up at Austin, his face distorts.
His smile turns into a sneer, and his eyes darken into something sinister.
The hand on my waist tightens, and I squirm, but I can’t escape the pain, which spreads up my entire side.
A tingling sensation shoots through my veins and coats my mouth with a sour taste.
It feels like fear.
I shoot up, gasping for air. It takes me several long moments to register that I’m in bed, and I’m alone.
No, scratch that – not alone. Winston is there, nudging at my arm with his cold, wet nose.
I take several deep breaths and slide my hand over his head, scratching behind his ears.
My hand is trembling, but he doesn’t mind.
He simply crawls forward, as close as he can get to me without physically crawling in my lap.
He rests his head on my chest, and tears well in my eyes as I take in his soft, curious look.
After several long moments, I reach my other hand over to the nightstand and flip my phone over. 4:52. I sigh and close my eyes, but when my heart rate remains elevated, I decide that more sleep isn’t in the cards for me again this morning.
I sit up in bed, then frown. Since I don’t have a coffee shop gig to get ready for anymore, I’ve got several hours until I’m meeting Andi at the boxing gym.
I wring my hands together, considering. I could run outside, but with the days getting shorter, it’s pitch black outside, and I don’t know the area well enough yet to navigate it in the dark.
Not to mention, it’s probably still a slipping hazard.
I can’t sit here and read or watch television, either.
My mind isn’t strong enough not to wander into dangerous territory while my body is idle.
I look back over at Winny and give him another scratch.
“It’s almost five, which means the gym will be open.
I guess it’s time to really check out those new amenities, huh?
Maybe something other than the treadmill? ”
I let Winny out, get dressed, and pack a swimsuit, ready for a quiet morning workout and follow-up swim. The second I enter the cycling studio, though, I come to a dead stop.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter under my breath and take a step back, but it’s too late. The door opening has alerted the man in the studio of my arrival. His head shoots up, and my suspicions are confirmed: it’s the Mustache Man, the friend I’ve seen with Benjamin Estes.
His expression shifts to one of recognition, but I really don’t want to deal with another conversation, especially alone.
I quickly turn on my heel and stride back out the door, heading for the pool instead.
I change, keeping a careful eye on the locker room door on the off chance that I’ve been followed.
When nothing happens, I relax slightly, and slip out the door into the pool area.
Laughter echoes off the water, filling my ears.
It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the soft lighting – different from the bright, abrasive lighting in the locker room – and my gaze travels directly to the source of the laughter.
The blond player is in the hot tub, arms draped over the side, talking to someone whose back is to me, towels stuffed under one arm.
A tall someone, broad-shouldered, with a large tattoo settled on one shoulder blade.
I tilt my head, eyes tracing the lines of the bird in flight, spotted wings spread across his tanned skin.
His swimming trunks cling to the tight curve of his ass, and my eyes drop to scan the outline despite myself.
Holy fuck… I didn’t realize a man’s ass could be such an attractive feature until this very moment.
He turns, and when he tosses his dark, wavy hair out of his face, my heart sinks.
Benjamin’s expression twists from a broad, lopsided grin to one of disbelief.
He faces me completely, and as he walks towards me, my gaze dips across his front of their own volition, scanning from his shoulders to his solid pecs, down his defined abs and to the waistband of his… nope. Not going there.
My eyes shoot back up to his, and as he gets closer, I can see the firm set of his mouth.
A hard lump forms in my throat, and I clench my fists, feeling the prick of sweat in them.
There’s no one else around; no bartop or counter to separate me from him.
My hand gravitates to my side, covering the phantom ache that twinges of its own volition.
I want to turn and sprint away, but that’s not what I’ve spent the past several weeks training for.
In through the nose, out through the mouth.
I’ve worked to face my fears, and I remind myself that I’m safe here.
I’m in my own apartment’s indoor pool. I’ve faced far worse than this hockey boy.
He just seems to have an irrational chip on his shoulder about how fate has been pushing us together. It’s time to settle that.
I stand a bit straighter, watching carefully to see how close Benjamin gets.
He stops before he reaches arm’s length and glances down, as though he’s also marking the distance.
His gaze rakes over me and I cross my arms, hyper-aware that I’m in nothing more than a bikini. Finally, he surprises me by sighing.
“You can’t be fucking serious.” He runs a hand through his hair, sending droplets of water flying. “And to think I just talked with the manager at Rise I just remember reading something in passing.”
I blink, absorbing her words. For all the anger I had when he got me fired, I hadn’t actually bothered to do any real research that day. “Maybe I should really look him up.”
“Do it. You know what they say about knowing your enemy.”
Andi’s timer goes off, and we roll our legs off the wall, reaching for our water bottles. “All right. I think it’s time I visit your bar. I can be your wing woman or Benji’s worst enemy,” she says. “Or, you know, both. You just tell me what you need and I’m there for you, girl.”
“Sure,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her. “So you’re not just going to get free drinks and stare at professional athletes?”
She grins conspiratorially and squirts water at me. “I said I’m there for you. I didn’t say I’m not human.”