“Same,” Marcello says with a firm nod.
I look at him. “You’re taking a shower? Normally you just say you’ll deodorant your way through the rest of the day and hope the smell of coffee covers up for you.
“And I stand by the power of both Lynx and freshly ground coffee beans, but today… er.” He pauses and looks at the floor as he fiddles with the knot of hair at the back of his head. “Today I have a date.”
My eyebrows shoot up. My hand extends to stop Marcello in his tracks too. “What?”
“Yeah, I have a date. After work. Well, it’s just a drink. Possibly not a date at all but—”
“Is this from the dating app?”
“Yeah,” Marcello says and we start walking towards the changing rooms. “Turns out I’m not a total turn-off to single women aged thirty-five to forty-nine living within a five-kilometre radius of Balham.”
“Forty-nine, hey?” I nudge him and I know what I’m doing. I’m choosing playful camaraderie and teasing over acknowledging the sick feeling in my stomach.
Marcello shrugs. “I’d go older, to be honest.”
“So, who’s the lucky lady?” I ask, and the sick feeling intensifies. What the fuck am I doing? I don’t want to know.
“Her name’s Daisy. Works in Marketing for a vegan smoothie brand. Forty years old. Likes men with long hair, apparently.” He imitates throwing his hair over his shoulder and I know it’s to try and make me laugh, but all it does is leave me wondering what exactly that would look like. I’ve never seen him with his hair down. It’s always tied up high at the back of his head. What does Marcello look like with his long, brown hair down? What does he look like throwing that long brown mane over oneshoulder? What would his hair feel like to touch, to stroke, to grab at the roots? What does it smell like?
Oh, shit.
“Well, I’m happy for you, man,” I say and I lift a heavy hand to clap him on the back as he walks through the changing room door in front of me.
“Yeah, thanks.” Marcello walks to his locker and enters the code. There’s nobody else in the room although the space feels warm and stuffy with the smell of a hundred sweaty socks. “What about you and what was his name again? Jeremy? Any more texting?”
I try to hold back the grimace on my face before it shows itself. “Yeah, some texts,” I answer honestly. I don’t clarify that I’ve left the poor man on read for the last three days.
“Has he asked you out?”
“Not exactly,” I lie. Jeremy has suggested we meet up several times, I’ve just become an expert on replying in the most non-committal way. I stick my head in my locker and finally cringe like I feel the need to do.
“Well, maybe you should follow my lead and ask him to go out one day soon?”
“Maybe,” I say, still with my head in the locker as I reach around finding my towel and shower gel.
“I mean, what harm can it do?” Marcello continues as I lean back and close the locker again. Just as I hear the click of the lock slipping back into place, I turn my head and look at Marcello.
Marcello who is standing at another open locker, completely naked.
Marcello who is completely naked and hung like a prize-bred horse.
And I’m staring at, no,oglinghis dick. His long, thick, full-headed dick.
“Well,” I cough and force my eyes away from his penis, “I see you’re ready for a shower.”
Marcello’s face falls. “Is this not what you’re supposed to do?”
“Get undressed? Well, I guess, yeah, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do,” I say, feeling as foolish as I sound. “I just normally strip off once I’m at the showers.”
Marcello moves the towel that is hanging over his shoulder to cover his genitals. “Oh, sorry.”
I stretch my mouth into a smile. “Not a big deal. In fact, I’m being weird. I’m making this weird. Weird, weird, weird.” I hit my forehead with my fist three times before I can stop myself. “Sorry.”
Marcello gives me a concerned look and then blinks it away. He moves quickly, passing me with his towel back over his shoulder. Nudging into my side with his. “I’ll see you in the showers,” he says, and then he turns the corner and disappears.
I rest my head against the cool metal of the locker's door and scowl at myself so hard it hurts. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” I call out in a silent scream and then I straighten my features, tap the locker door three times with my index finger and finally move away. Following Marcello’s footsteps, I head to the showers.
