It doesn’t surprise me. Usually, she comes to the gym in sweats or leggings, but she likes to dress up when booking gigs or coming from shoots.
“How about after training, I let you bring me home and take it all off?” She frees the top button of my polo and winks.
I turn back to the supplies. “We’ll have to go to your apartment.”
“And miss the chance of your roommate walking in on us fucking in your twin-size bed again? I don’t know, that sounds kinda hot.”
I give her a look. I forgot to text my roommateonce, and Trinity hasn’t let me live it down in the three months we’ve been sleeping together.
She laughs and grabs my chin, pulling me in for another kiss. “You’re so cute when you’re irritated.”
She follows me into the locker room, sauntering into one of the changing stalls, and flashes a seductive look over her shoulder. It’s a silent question. I want to follow her in—in fact, a few times, I almost have—but I need the money from this job, and I’m not about to be fired because I can’t wait a couple of hours to pin her to the wall.
“Hey,” she calls out once she realizes I’m not following her inside. “Are we still on for Saturday night? Rafi needs to know how many to expect.”
“Tell him three. Me, Jules, and Chloe. And yeah, we’re still on.”
“I’m excited to meet your friends,” she says.
“Yeah. Me too,” I tell her.
Trinity’s heard stories about us growing up together and knows how close we are. What shedoesn’tknow is that Jules and I slept together five months ago. And I’d really like to keep it that way.
As for Jules, well, she knows about Trinity. Sort of. She knows she’s a fellow NYU student who I met at the gym and that we’ve gone out a few times. Which, despite being true, isn’t the full story. I’ve yet to tell her that we’re a little more serious than that. It’s just, every time I try, the words seem to get caught in my throat, and I’m not sure why.
We haven’t mentioned our night together since that afternoon up on the mountain. We just went on with our lives like it never happened. Like nothing changed.
Except thingshavechanged.
There was more space between us when we watched movies. And not nearly as much touching. No heads on shoulders or hand holding or even bumping shoulders. Just space. Miles and miles of space. And the absolute worst? Jules and I haven’t talked as much since she went back to school in July for field hockey. Our constant thread of texting has slowed to sporadic bursts. Our almost nightly phone calls have turned into twice a week.
The thought that she may be seeing someone makes my chest tighten. Even if I know how hypocritical that makes me. I remind myself that our night together was an experiment between friends. That I’m moving on and so should she.
The door to the changing room opens, and I watch as Trinity shoves her bag into a nearby locker. Where Jules is beautiful in every sense of the word, soft curves and even softer skin, Trinity is hot. Defined muscles and an “I model fancy underwear” type of body. Both attractive, just in different ways.
The chime of the door opening reminds me that I need to get back behind the desk. “It’s probably Vic,” she teases.
I groan. I really can’t stand that guy.
She looks at me in the mirror with a sideways smile. “The sooner I can get my session done, the sooner we can have our own workout.”
I shove the paper towels into the dispenser and mutter about how he’ll probably make her lift extra weights, and she’ll be too tired.
She kisses my cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll save some energy for you.” She grabs her water bottle and heads out of the locker room, leaving me alone.
My phone buzzes, and without thinking about it, I pull it out of my pocket to find another text from Jules. It’s a selfie of her taking a bite of a greasy burger with the captioncheat day. She must’ve just finished practice because she’s still wearing her headband, and there’re wisps of hair sticking all over the place, and her face is all flushed.
Trinity laughs, and the sound is enough to bring me back to reality. I try not to think about how the color of Jules’s chest matched the flushed red of her cheeks as I worked my way back up her body all those months ago. Or how she pulled me into a toe-curling kiss, moaning when she tasted herself on my tongue.
I let out a long breath and lean against the sink. Moving on would be a hell of a lot easier if I could stop having those types of persistent thoughts about my best friend.
Chapter Thirteen
Julia
“It’s not a fancy type of club, right?” Chloe asks, trying to get a look out the windows for a sense of where Alex may be taking us. “Because this is the only cute outfit I brought, but it’s not nice enough for the Met Gala or a movie premiere.”
Alex gives her a look. “The Met Gala or a movie premiere? What kind of life do you think I’m living here?”
