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Roman looks toward the locker rooms. “I need to shower.”
My eyes narrow. “I could follow you.”
“No.”
“I mean into the locker room.”
“No.”
“What if I identify as—”
“No.”
I laugh. Roman grabs his towel.
“I'll be back.”
I blink. “You will?”
He looks at me.
“I'm taking a shower, Chaos. Not fleeing the country.”
“Right.”
His eyes stay on mine.
“I'll wait.”
“I assumed.”
He turns away.
I watch him walk toward the men's locker room.
Then I smile.
Roman has made a tactical error. He thinks I'm waiting because I want to spend more time with him. Which is true. But now I have an opportunity, too. He has to leave eventually. And when he does, I can follow him home.
Brilliant.
I grab my jacket and brown wig from the locker room.
Shit. I can’t let him see this.
He already thinks I was stalking him in it yesterday. Which I was, but that’s beside the point.
I put the wig back in my locker, debating whether to put it inside my coat. I could hide it in my SUV, but I don’t really want to go outside and risk missing Roman.
I’ll just come back for it.
Satisfied, I exit the locker room and sit on a bench near the front of the gym, pretending to scroll through my phone.
Ten minutes pass.
A couple of men come out of the locker room. No Roman.
I check Instagram. Then my email.