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Still nothing.

Twenty-two minutes have gone by.

He takes long showers. Maybe he’s fantasizing about me and stroking himself.

Another man comes out. Still no Roman.

I glance at the clock again. Forty minutes have gone by.

Something is wrong.

I walk to the front desk. The girl behind it looks up. “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” I point toward the men's locker room. “Is there another exit?”

She blinks.

“From the men’s locker room?”

“Yes.”

My spine stiffens. “What?”

“Um... there's a side door.”

I stare at her. “A side door.”

“Yeah.”

My stomach drops. “Where does it go?”

“The rear parking lot.”

Son of a bitch.

I hurry toward the front windows. Roman's truck is still there.

I’m about ready to go inside the men’s locker room, but stop.

No. No fucking way he snuck out.

I pull out my phone and text him.

Me: Where are you?

The response comes in less than a minute.

Roman: Somewhere.

My mouth falls open. “Oh, you asshole.”

The girl at the front desk glances at me. “Sorry.”

My phone buzzes again.

Roman: Thought you were changing?

I stare at the message.