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Other than a missing Mason, the locker room was the same when I came back from my shower. Despite him going to wash off before me, Kingston’s things were still in his cubby, and the sound of water was coming from the men’s showers.
By the time I got mostly dressed behind my curtain, the shower was still on. Was he shaving in there or something? I’d taken shorter baths.
I finished dressing in some leggings and a sweatshirt then flipped my head upside down to scrub my hair dry. The cotton must have muffled my hearing because, when I flipped my hair back and stood straight, the shower was off and Kingston was walking into the locker room, eyes on the towel he was tying aroundhis waist.
All the saliva left my mouth, and I was left gaping at him. Water slid over the hard planes of his torso and arms, shifting colors as it flowed over his tattoos.
I must have made a noise because Kingston suddenly looked up. Surprise flashed across his face as he stopped abruptly. “Oh, sorry. I thought you would be gone by now.”
“I—uh—was just leaving actually,” I stammered. I couldn’t tear my eyes away fromhis torso.
Both of his arms, his chest, and the side of the torso were covered with colorful ink that blended into each other like watercolors. Short, dark lines and saturated colors popped against his skin and contoured his body. It was like someone ripped out pages from a sketchbook and glued them on him. A tingle sizzled through me, and my hand twitched, wanting to reach out and trace the details of his tattoos that I couldn’t quite make out from across the locker room.
Then I remembered where I was, and I jerked my eyes away from his body, trying to save myself some embarrassment. Unfortunately, I didn’t succeed; Kingston had caught me checking him out.
But instead of the smarmy smirk I expected, confusion flashed acrosshis face.
Right. I was supposed to be a lesbian. For the past couple years, I had easily reigned in my attraction to men. It wasn’t hard, considering I leaned more toward women anyway. Yet, in the couple days that I’d known him, I’d found myself sneaking more looks at Sebastian Kingston than I had at any guy in years. Now, I was straight up ogling the man in the locker room. I wanted to slap myself. I had very strict rules about looking at teammates in the locker room—namely, don’t. Kingston was destroying my control, and I didn’t like it.
Thankfully, there was no one else there to catch my momentary lapse of composure. I quicklyrecovered.
“I … likeyour ink.”
An eyebrow raised, he nodded uncertainly but didn’t seem suspicious.
I needed to get away from him. Without giving myself time to hesitate, I threw my towel into the basket in the corner and, with deliberate calmness, gathered my things frommy locker.
“Oh, wait,” Kingston said, stopping me seconds before I touched the door. He reached into his cubby and pulled out a phone. “I need your number.”
I rattled off the digits, and a second later, my phone dinged with anew text.
“I’ll pick you up around eight in the morning on Sunday. Text me your address and bring your pads.”
I barely managed a nod before I fled the room, berating myself thewhole way.
Chapter 5
“Shit,” Mason cursed as his avatar was nearly sniped. He quickly turned around and ran behind some virtual trees. On the other half of my television, I watched as the guy who killed my character reloaded to takeout Mason.
“Hey, watch out for that sniper,” I taunted cheekily as I sipped my smoothie. My muscles, sore from this morning’s workout, stretched pleasantly as I dropped my Xbox controller and stretched across the couch. I leveled out my cup before my smoothie could spill from my jostlingmovements.
Unfortunately, my heads-up wasn’t heeded, and Mason’s avatar dropped to the grass, dead. “Damn it.” He threw his controller across the coffee table and onto the recliner then collapsed fully onto the couch with me, pushing my legs aside to make room for his. We watched lazily as the avatar who killed us looked for his next victim.
I checked the time on my phone. Kingston should be here any minute. I took another sip of strawberry banana. A few moments later, our avatars’ murderer killed the last player and danced invictory.
Mason fetched his controller from the recliner. “Hey. Do you happen to know where Drew is?” he asked, his voice the epitome of casual, but I didn’t buy it fora second.
Before I could tease him about his crush on my brother, my phone dinged. It was Kingston letting me know he was here. I stood and took my cup to the kitchen. “He went to talk to some college buddies or something. Said he should be back before I’m done with Kingston’s charity thing,” I shouted over my shoulder as I put the cup in the dishwasher then went to grab my huge gear bag from the hallway.
“All right. Have fun. Don’t let those little kids kick your ass too hard,” Mason shouted acrossthe house.
I laughed sarcastically and would have thrown a middle finger up if he was in view. “Yeah, yeah. See ya.”
Outside my house, Kingston was leaning against a white truck, waiting for me. He uncrossed his arms from his chest at the sound of my front door closing and pushed his sunglasses down from his lightly slicked-backed hair, shading his eyes from the harsh morning sun. With his black leather jacket and dark jeans, he looked like he should be dismounting a motorcycle on the cover of a men’s health magazine. It was the first time I’d seen him out of athletic gear or his game suits.
I was in simple leggings and my mom’s old Blizzards sweater.
“Need some help?” he asked, gesturing at the huge bag weighing down my shoulder as I jogged down the steps to the street.
