“Actually, I’m not too sure I’d recommend that. Nate’s been in there for the past hour—best you go in there and check it out yourself.”
A humorless laugh escapes me.
An hour in the changing room?
The frustration I’ve been holding back for the sake of appearances crumbles as I storm through the gym, passing by the men’s sign like it doesn’t exist.
“Nate?” My voice echoes against the tiled walls as I scan the area.
Large black lockers stretch in neat rows, with matching benches in front. The moody, dim lighting makes the space look as sleek as the main fitness area. But that isn’t what stands out the most. Everything here looks untouched. Deserted. Like no one is here in the first place.
“Nate?” I call out once more as I take an even deeper and hesitant step inside.
Just like before, no one answers. And other than the soft, distant patter of water, nothing here resembles life—not even a spider on the wall.
A thick billow of steam rolls out from the archway markedShowers.And, like every character in a horror movie, I find myself moving toward it.
“Nate?” I whisper-yell as rows of frosted glass showers and black marble come into view.
A sudden bang at the end of the hall shatters the silence, followed by an exasperated, “Fuck.”
I spin on my heels toward the sound, and my gaze lands on a white towel slung over a stall.
Slow, cautious steps carry me forward until I’m standing before a shadowed silhouette. The door isn’t clear by any means—it’s barely translucent—but it’s enough to make out the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and outline of what I can only imagine is a man’s very large—
My eyes widen as an unmistakably strong chest comes into view.
I look up to find Nate staring down at me with a similarly shocked expression.
His hair is darker than usual, plastered to his forehead. Water trickles down his torso before disappearing beneath the white towel around his waist. This man is carved like a Greek god—every muscle so clearly defined, it’s hard to look away.
A cough interrupts my shameless gawking, and my gaze lifts to find Nate’s dark eyes locked onto mine.
“Can I help you?” His voice comes out gruff.
My mind is a jumble as I search for the words. “I—”
What was I doing here in the first place?
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”
Nate squeezes past me on his way out of the shower, his damp skin dragging against mine and leaving a path of heat that lingers long after he’s gone.
I stare, dazed, watching the muscles of his back ripple as he walks down the tiled hall toward the lockers. He grunts something under his breath, not loud enough for me to hear, but I know he isn’t entitled to feel that way. He wasn’t the one who was stood up by his fake date.
I bolt after him the instant I remember why I came here. And by the time I reach him, he’s angrily dropping his gym bag onto the bench and ripping the zipper open.
“What are you doing here?” Nate’s hoarse tone lacks its usual happiness.
I huff in shock, crossing my arms in disbelief. “I should be the one askingyouthat question,notthe other way around.”
His eyes slide over my chest before snapping up to meet mine.
I’ve never seen him so cold, so distant, but there’s also this warmth lingering behind his gaze. Sexual tension. Attraction, maybe? It’s doing wild things to me, and shame washes over me as I clench my legs at the warmth pooling between them.
Nate rolls his eyes in response, opting to take his bag, sling it over his shoulder, and walk to the nearest changing stall.
The door is about to close on me when I stick my hand through the small gap.
