I dropped my sports bag and started changing into my gym clothes, which were a T-shirt and sweatpants—nothing tight or form-fitting, because I was self-conscious about my body. Plus, I figured my first time in a gym would be chaotic and sweaty, so I wanted to wear something I could hide behind.
Once inside, I gradually unpacked my bag, taking my time so Ezrah Warwick wouldn't lose patience waiting for me. I sat down, checked my phone, and discovered a message from my mom.
Wait.
It fooled me last time, too. Someone sent a message from her number, obviously a mistake, but for a few seconds, I’d forgotten that my beautiful Mom wasn’t around anymore. The message read:Hi!!
Just like the first message, I figured it had to be from a bot or something, so I ignored it while pulling on my black sweatpants and a baggy white T-shirt. After changing, I rechecked the message and saw it was slightly different, with two extra exclamation marks, as if they were annoyed that I didn’t reply to the first message.
Ignoring the message, I zipped my bag shut, located my assigned locker, and shoved it inside. As I walked out, the towering inferno was still waiting. Pale eyes scanned my clothes, and I shot him a warning look.
“What do you want?” I hissed, walking past him, only for him to grab the fabric of my T-shirt and pull me back.
“Wrong way,” he told me, and turned me around by my shoulders to point me in the correct direction. Then, he loosely ran his hand over my curly, black ponytail as I stormed away.
“Uninvited touching,” I snarled at him as I flung the door open and entered the gym floor. “Keep your hands to yourself, thank you.”
“Get on the treadmill to warm up,” he ordered me as he followed behind, and I tried to walk faster to lose him.
“I don’t wantyouto help me,” I yelled at him, stubbornly walking to the cycles to rebel against his annoying instructions.
As I climbed onto a bike, the seat was too high and I could barely reach the pedals, so, under his mischievous gaze, I tried to figure out how to lower it.
“Will you let me help?” he said, smirking, arms folded across his broad chest. I ignored his request and tried to fix the seat myself, but it was stuck, refusing to budge.
I ignored him at first, and when I couldn’t lower the seat, I moved on to the next bike and faced the same problem. “Don’t they grease the seat-moving lever around here?” I snapped at anyone nearby listening, but it was only him paying me any attention. A smirk played on that devilish face. He thinks he’s so irresistible to women, but I find him incredibly annoying.
Without a word, he stepped up to the bike I was fiddling with and easily adjusted the seat, “That should do it. Get on.”
“I changed my mind,” I hissed, stepping back to create more space between us. He liked to stand so close, and since he’s talland broad, it’s pretty intimidating, but I refused to let him see that his presence got to me. “I’ll go on the treadmill.”
“Sure,” he brimmed over in smugness, and I couldn’t stand to be around him.
“Don’t follow me,” I demanded. “I don’t need your help.”
Ignoring me, “Put it on slow and then increase the speed slowly. Can you do anything faster than a walk?”
“I can jog,” I snapped, then internally berated myself for answering him when I planned to ignore him.
“Had breakfast?” he asked, rubbing his jaw with the back of his fist.
“Yes,” I snarled, wishing he’d just go away.
“Get a coffee afterward?” he asked, although it sounded more like a demand.
“No, thank you,” I replied.
“There’s a tuck shop in the reception area. They serve good coffee, and we could grab a couple of protein cookies,” he explained, oblivious to the repulsed look on my face.
“Protein cookies?” I couldn’t think of any other way to scare him off besides spraying insecticide in his eyes or maybe waving my knife in front of his face, but I left it in my locker. “I mean... I’d rather eat dirt.”
“Nah, they taste great,” he defended his snack choice without taking offense at my comment, and I thought it must be wonderful to live in a bubble of untouchability. It was like water off a duck’s back because nothing bothered him. He was blind to the signals I was giving him that I wanted him nowhere near me and deaf to my venomous words spat out of the mouth of an irate cobra. “I’ll buy you one after we’ve finished.”
“I just said I don’t want one,” I argued as my patience was running out with this guy. “Jeez, you Warwicks are pushy. I don’t suppose it was you and your sullen brother that planted a dead rat in my room by any chance?”
“Why would we do that for?” he frowned, and I almost believed him.
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe you should tell me that since you put it there,” I hissed as my legs moved faster, pushing the pedals in anger. At this rate, I’ll be fit in time if this guy keeps hanging around me, acting all nonchalant. There’s nothing more annoying than having a heated argument with someone, yet only one of you is angry.
