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“Oh my God... No wonder you don’t ever date. You lack all refinement.”

Another laugh, then he flushes the toilet and leaves the room.

When I come out, he’s in his room with Royal Blood blaring from his iHome while he does pushups. I walk over and turn the volume down.

“Sixty-two...sixty-three...” he keeps bobbing up and down, his tattoo-covered muscles rippling and popping. A heat blooms between my legs and I quickly divert my attention to the floor.

“Can you take me back home?”

“Sixty-four....sixty-five...”

He knows I hate it when he doesn’t answer me, so I walk over and sit on his back. He manages three more pushups before he collapses on the floor.

“Fuck’s sake, Em.”

“You really should work on your stamina.” I push off his back and pick up one of the T-shirts scattered on his floor on my way to the door. Smiling, I toss it at him. “Home please.”