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“Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I start my first pull-up, quickly realizing that this is way harder than I remember it from gym class. My arms burn, and my muscles feel like they are about to give out. I barely get my chin over the bar when I straighten my arm and let myself hang for a second.
“I don’t know if a second one is going to happen.”
I’m about to drop myself to the floor completely when I feel Quinton’s hands on my calves, his touch sending an electric current across my skin.
“Cross your ankles.”
I do as he says, wondering what the hell he is doing.
He bends my knees, places a hand at the top of my feet, and pushes up slightly. “Now, try again.”
Even though I know this won’t work, I give it another go. This time, when it gets more difficult, I use my legs to gain leverage and push myself up. It’s still hard, but not impossible. I keep going and do a few more, ignoring the burn in my upper arms and core.
“Okay, this time, I really can’t do anymore,” I huff after a while. Quinton lets go of my feet, and I drop off the bar.
“That wasn’t terrible. I mean, it was bad, but not terrible,” Quinton teases.
I ignore him and walk to one of the ab workout machines. To my surprise, Quinton follows me to it.
“Keep your core tight the entire time, keep your arms locked and only use your stomach muscles,” he instructs.
I stay on this machine for a bit, and after, I do a few more. Quinton stays with me the whole time, helping me figure everything out. By the time we’re done, my muscles are exhausted, and I’m covered in sweat.
I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. “I’ve got to go and get ready for classes.”
“You’re gonna be pretty sore tomorrow. I should probably give you a full body massage.”
My entire body tingles at his words, knowing how good it would feel to have his hands all over me.
“Or I can just take a hot shower,” I say as we walk out of the gym.
“Not as good.” He shakes his head and turns away from me. “Enjoy your shower, maybe make yourself come while thinking of me.”
Shaking my head at him, I walk toward my room. I scan my keycard and go to turn the door handle but gasp and take a step back when the door opens from the other side. I press a hand to my chest to stop my heart from jumping out of my skin.
The bald maintenance guy from yesterday appears in front of me. A spark of excitement at my shower being fixed develops, but dissolves when he smiles at me. It’s not a friendly smile. More like an I’m-a-serial-killer-but-no-one-will-ever-find-out kind of smile.
“The shower is fixed,” he announces.
“Th—thanks…” I stumble over my words, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “You came here really early.” A bit too early. It can’t be later than six. Was he hoping I’d still be asleep when he walked in?
Ugh, I know he had to go in my room to fix the shower, but I don’t like the idea of him in my room at any time or under any circumstances.
It’s like I’m walking on eggshells everywhere I go. I shouldn’t be so freaked out or paranoid, but after the incident last night, I can’t help it.
Which leads me to wondering if Quinton might have asked the maintenance guy to do something to my shower, and that was why he was grinning at me when he saw me on the other side of the door.
The man slips past me and starts walking down the hall. I stand there, afraid to step inside my room. Afraid that he set a booby trap, and I’m going to step right in it.
Somehow, I build up the courage to go inside the room and close the door behind me. Everything looks to be where it was when I left, but I still peer around the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. When I’m sure the room isn’t going to implode around me, I check out the shower.
I approach it like a wild animal and slowly turn the handles, listening as the pipes creak. A moment later, the spray of water comes out, and where it was a firehose before, it’s now a nice rain shower.
I’m so happy I could jump up and down. I strip out of my clothes and dash into the shower. There isn’t an unlimited amount of hot water like in the locker room, but at least I don’t have to worry about getting locked in or having my clothes taken.
I’m not sure what time it is, but I blink my eyes open and am assaulted by the smell of sewer. I sit up on the bed, and the mattress creaks beneath me. The rushing of water meets my ears, and I blink slowly, wondering if I’m fully awake. The smells ferment in the room, and my stomach churns.
