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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.