King doesn’t change the weights on the bar, and I smirk. If we were friends, I’d bet him he wouldn’t complete all the reps. He lifts the bar on an exhale, and my eyes are drawn to the way his arms bulge and flex with large veins popping out from exertion.
I stalk away from the bench to get a drink. My morbid fascination unravels me. Now I have no excuse and need to get it together. Behind me, the bar slams into its cradle.
“What is so hard to understand about spotting someone, asshole.” The fury in his eyes fills me with exhilaration.
There it is. The other side of his two faces. He’s not the nice guy he pretends to be.
“You were fine,” I scoff, annoyed he’s invading my space.
“We have partners for a reason. You can’t—”
“What’s going on?” Our do-good captain gets in the middle.
“We’re fine.” King storms away.
“Between you and me, he’s not fine.” I shake my head as if I’m disappointed.
“Hmmm.” Ace points over to Benz, my new partner.
The rest of weight lifting goes fine. Benz tackles each rep with determination and focus, and he keeps talking to a minimum.
“Great lift.” Benz fist-bumps me and pulls me in for a hug.
I’m so surprised, I stand stiffly for a beat before I return the gesture.
“Listen,” he whispers, “King’s an awesome dude once you get to know him. He’s shy.”
My mouth falls open. “If you only knew.” I clench my hands until my nails bite into my palms, so I don’t tell him exactly who Jamal King is, and it’s not an awesome dude. But I let a detail slip. “He says horrible things about me behind my back and to his father.”
Benz reminds me of a confused puppy. “He’s not like that, and his parents are great; they aren’t the trash-talking type of people.”
“Not them, his actual father,” I mutter, and walk away.
Benz follows me, huffing as if it’s his job to make this right. “Last season, King said he hasn’t spoken to the sperm donor in years. He won’t give the guy the title of parent.”
What. The. Fuck.
I race toward the locker room, trying to make sense of what Benz said. It’s clear Benz is clueless, but why would King lie about talking to his father? To cover up his selfishness or hide his past as he fakes being a good ally?
A petite figure steps into my path. “Hey, handsome, miss me?”
“Sarah!” I pick her up and spin her around, breathing in her vanilla scent. It’s like she knew I was losing my shit and came to save me from myself.
Her laughter fills the hall. “Look what I brought you.” She dangles my car keys from her finger.
“I have never loved you more.” Giving her an extra squeeze, I let her down when I feel her stiffen.
Sarah’s face goes into bitch mode as she says, “Are you going to introduce me?”
King leans against the wall, waiting for us to move out of the doorway.
“My teammate, Jamal King.” I jerk my thumb at him, but she knows exactly who he is, and she’s about to shred him to pieces. I can’t do it, but she can.
“King, you got a second?” Ace steps out of the training room and beckons him over.
“Nice to meet you.” King reaches out to shake Sarah’s hand but turns away when she recoils from him and loses her chance to beat him down.
“The dickhead in the flesh.” Sarah rolls her eyes.
