Page 13

I have had no contact with the twins since my interaction with Maison in the lunchroom on my first day. All week, at lunch, it was like I didn’t exist. I avoided staring at them, and I don’t know how to enter their world, especially with Naomi always present. She won’t let me near them. Micah rarely speaks, and when he does, it’s usually only to Thomas. Sometimes Naomi sits on his lap and his hands go right to her hips, but his eyes are distant, as if he doesn’t see her. When he’s not around, she’s next to Ezra, which makes sense given what Jade told me. Maison is carefree and smiles constantly. His smile is nice, and he’s flirty, especially with Serena. But I don’t think Serena is too special, considering I’ve seen him hit on other cheerleaders, too—but she obviously likes him. The twins hardly interact, despite being together all the time. Maybe everything’s not as good as it seems between them. Alaska is in ten days. I have to be ready.

I flick the sweat off my brow and lean over to untie my sneakers. My body is drenched from my run out on the track. My face is beet-red, and my skin is like an oven, but I eye the showers and how amazing one would feel right now as the steam drifts into the rest of the large locker room with its lemon scent.

I wait my turn, sitting on a leather chair in front of a gas fireplace, popping out my earbuds when the last of the girls exit the shower area wrapped in white spa towels. No one tries to talk to me, so when they all trickle out, taking their laughter with them, my chest lightens.

I slip off my shorts and tank top, then shove them into my bag and place them in my locker. I reach for a towel to cover myself, hiding from the few lingering girls in the locker room as I head to the showers. I fully intend on utilizing this luxury as often as I can.

Stepping in, I close the opaque glass door and turn the dial on hot. The steam hits my throat and I stand for a few seconds, letting the water flow over me. I run my hands through my dark hair that falls over my shoulders. My fingers trace down my collarbone, and I let them rest on the swells of my breasts, remembering how Chris’s hand used to touch me there. Except for the beach, before anyone was back in town, I’ve hidden them since it came out that we were sleeping together. Which is odd, because my body was the focal point of my identity.

Chris was the first and only guy I’ve slept with, and I can’t imagine getting to a place to do it again with anyone else. I haven’t properly healed yet. If Nigel’s idea was for me to sleep with either twin to get information for this story, then that is a full-stop for me.

The thought makes my breath grow heavy and a pulse of pleasure shoots between my legs, causing my hands to draw back. I shift those thoughts out of my head.

I move my hand down my stomach, then toward my thigh, which has grown weaker in the months since I’ve quit dance. Running today felt good; it gave me a burst of energy and dopamine my brain needed after weeks of feeling sorry for myself. I keep moving down between my legs to relieve that little pressure that’s built up there, letting out a soft moan as I do so, feeling the curves of my body I was once so proud of.

My eyes grow heavy, and I sit on the bench in the shower, turning off the water and just let the steam engulf me. My hands move back between my legs and, for a few minutes, I work myself until I give myself full relief, trying not to picture certain athletes while I do it. It’s quiet. A few minutes have passed since an echo of voices bounced through the locker rooms, so I’m completely alone and in no rush to leave in my post-orgasm haze. My dad and Maggie are out for dinner tonight, and I only have reading to do, and I’m feeling pretty confident in my facade “story” and features I have planned when covering the tournament. Two of which rely heavily on interviewing certain individuals, and I plan to make the most of those interviews when the time comes.

I finally get hot enough and turn off the steam, taking one more cleansing breath. Just as I walk out, the lights in the locker room shut off. My body freezes as I look around, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. There is no one in here. The lights must be set on a timer, and all I can hear is the hissing of the steam from my shower.

I feel my way back to my locker, fully intending to grab my phone to use it as a flashlight. When I arrive there, I reach for my bag, only to find it… empty.

My heart quickens as I do a double-take to make sure I found my locker and not someone else’s. It’s mine, and someone stole my fucking clothes. My heart beats even harder as I wrap the towel tightly around myself and make my way to the exit. I peer out into the hallway, which is empty, and only amplified by the arched hollow ceilings in all the main areas of this school.

The towels small, but it’s big enough to sneak to my car in. Who ever did this to me was gracious to leave my phone and keys, so I know this is some sort of prank.

I weigh my options, and the prospect of humiliation outweighs the thought of waiting in this locker room like a little lamb. These kids can’t, and shouldn’t, scare me, but being caught like this in my most primal state is utterly horrifying. Like, whoever did this to me knows my deepest, darkest secrets and is trying to expose me, just as I plan to do to the twins.

Grabbing my bag, I slide out the door, half expecting someone to jump out at me and laugh. Instead, the hallway remains silent and empty as my bare feet echo against the walls. I decide to go full tilt and get out quickly. When I turn the corner, I barely have time to stop as I almost run directly into Maison coming out of the boys’ locker room. His hair is wet and ruffled, and he’s dressed in a pair of loose sweats and a T-shirt, holding a duffel bag.

I know it’s Maison—I can tell by his smile, which quickly fades when he takes in the situation in front of him. He takes a step back and arches his brows.

I freeze and press my hand over my mouth, completely exposed. My worst nightmare is playing out in real time. A thickness hits my throat as his eyes wander to my bare legs, my dark wet hair, and sparsely covered breasts.

He lets out a little chuckle and tilts his head. “Hey there.”

I drop my backpack and pull the towel up, then shift it back into position.

I keep my head down but can’t help watching him as he takes me in. “Please don’t look at me.”

This is beyond humiliating. I wanted his attention, but on my terms, and definitely not like this, and especially after I just touched myself thinking about him. The heat in my face is not entirely from the steam.

His eyes flash with amusement. “So that’s what you’ve been hiding under all those baggy clothes,” he jokes. “Impressive.”

My fists clench. “Turn your head now.”

His grin returns as he covers his eyes with his hand. “Okay, calm down. I won’t look.”

I take a few steps back, trying to decide if I should run to my car or to the locker room. My panting is already out of control, my chest rising and falling through the slit of the towel covering it.

“Can I at least help you?” he offers. “I have some extra clothes in my bag I keep for situations exactly like this. It will get you home at least.”

My eyebrows shoot up even though he can’t see me. “Situations like this?”

“You know, helping damsels in distress who wander the halls of school alone, afraid and completely naked?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not a damsel, and I’m certainly not in distress.”

He shifts. “Okay, but you’re still naked.”