AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Who shouted at you?” Nico asks me with a frown.
“No one, it doesn’t matter. Has he gone?”
“The shouter has. There’s a gorgeous guy who wants to check if you’re okay. I’d take a burn or two to get his number,” he mutters, almost to himself.
“Okay, thanks.” I smirk at the idea that maybe Brian has a personality after all, even if it’s only when there’s a hot guy at stake. Is he talking about the guy from the queue? He must be, unless there’s some modeling convention happening nearby that I’m unaware of. “I’ll be a minute,” I say. He leaves to cover the register, and I head over to my bag, pulling out my gym kit. There’s a fresh T-shirt in here somewhere for after my workout.
“Do you want me to get rid of him?” Nico asks, but I shake my head.
“No, it’s fine.”
“Are you sure? Just cause he shouted at someone for you doesn’t mean he can harass you.” I turn in shock.
“Harass me? What do you mean?”
“I’m just saying, he’s notowedanything.” He says it in such a way that we both know what he’s insinuating.
“Yes, thank you, Nico. I’m not about to rip my clothes off in gratitude.” He raises a brow and pointedly looks at my half-dressed state, and my eyes narrow. “Is there a problem?” Since when did he get so judgy?
“Not from where I’m standing.” My whole body flushes. That’s the first time Nico has ever made a comment like that. His eyes are molten, but they soften slightly. “Look, I’m not trying to judge you. I’m trying to look out for you.”
“Well maybe don’t,” I say. I know I’ll regret it later, but oh well. He’s caught me off guard.
“Harlow—”
“Can I get changed so I can go, please?” I ask, gesturing down at the top I’m still holding to my bare chest. He holds my eye for a second, and his jaw ticks as a ridiculous warmth rushes through me at the determined look in his eye. Assertive Nico has my pulse quickening.
“Yeah, sorry,” he says, sounding anything but sorry as he leaves, and I sigh. I’m not trying to pick a fight with him. But really. Who does he think he is? I’m a grown adult, he’s got no business telling me what to do and not do. What is it with these guys thinking they know best?
I take my stuff to the toilet and change into my gym wear completely, seeing as the water has dripped into my jeans too. Stuffing my work clothes into my bag, I head through the shop with a quick wave to Brian and Nico, who are dealing with the queue that formed during the drama, and meet the guy out the front of the shop.
“Hey,” he says as he sees me, standing up from his casual lean against the wall. “How’s the chest?” I raise my eyebrows, and he smirks. “You know what I mean.”
“It’s fine. I hear I have you to thank for defending my honor?”
“I’ll take thanks in any way you want to give it.” Normally I’d like that line and flirt right back, but now Nico’s got into my head, and I don’t say the retort on my tongue. Thankfully, his phone rings to save me from thinking of something else. “I’ve got to get this,” he says regretfully as he checks the screen.
“No problem. I’ll see you around?” He gives me a questioning look, but I’m already walking away toward the gym.
***
By the time I get to the gym, the adrenaline has worn off and my chest is really starting to sting. I’d usually work out in a sports crop, but I gingerly slip my T-shirt back on over the top when I realize there’s no way to hide the red mark blooming across my skin. After the way Sawyer reacted over my lip, I don’t want to get into what happened back at the coffee shop with him. It might’ve passed as a flush if I was already warming up, but right now? Never. If he thinks my added layer is unusual, he doesn’t show it, seeming completely distracted. Maybe he wouldn’t have noticed the mark after all. Just my luck, though, we’re practicing close combat.
Getting up close and personal with a sweaty Sawyer could be used as self-discipline training. Feeling the hard planes of his body but not being able tofeelthe hard planes of his body has my fingers itching with the effort of not touching him. I’m slightly distracted by the cloud of lust filling my head when he bands me to him with a forearm just below my collarbone, and with the effort of keeping the hiss of pain in, I push him away a touch rougher than I would normally. He looks concerned when I spin to face him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just some pent-up energy,” I say casually, hoping like hell he believes me. He keeps eye contact for a second, but I can’t. Lying to him is one thing, but looking straight at him while I do it? I can’t. The next move has him coming down over me. He holds my shoulder against the ground firmly, the heel of his palm pressing into my injury, and I gasp. He wrenches his hand back like he’s the one who’s burned.
“Sorry,” he says quickly, standing up and holding a hand out for me. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” I reply as I stand with his assistance. I don’t know how to explain the reaction, but he jumps in before I can, clearly reading the situation wrong.
“I didn’t mean to touch you like that.” But it’s hardly an intimate touch for us, why would he assume my reaction was to that? Is he seeing my crush? Can he tell I’m practically panting over him and is trying not to give me any mixed signals?
“Ready for some cardio?” he asks while I’m still questioning everything. That definitely wasn’t in the plan—he never mixes sessions—and now I’m sure he’s trying to make some space between us. Embarrassment floods through me, and my chest throbs from the sweat and the inadvertent pressure of my shirt and his touch. I just want to go home.
“Actually, do you mind if we call it early? I’m shattered.” It’s only ten or so minutes to lose anyway. His brow creases in concern and his mouth opens, but he stops himself from saying whatever he was about to say.
“Of course. I’ve only got fifteen minutes until my next class, so is it okay if you Uber home?” I assure him it is, not wanting to wait around for his next class to finish like I normally would. “I’ll see you later.”
