“Fine,” I reply, jerking out of his grasp before I adjust my clothes. I have on a ripped tank, and I don’t miss his eyes on the extra flash of skin.
He lingers and I patiently wait, staring at his Nikes. “Talked to Jake.”
“And?”
“Said you went to high school together. Anyway, the gym is booked up for the rest of the summer, so we’ll have to share it.”
I lift a shoulder. “I’m not the one who has a problem with it.”
“What do you say to an hour and a half each?” As he starts negotiations, I shake my head.
“I need more time.”
“I’m trying here,” he blows out a frustrated breath. His hands taped at his sides, his fingers tense as if he’s ready to spring and attack. It’s the only thing I notice as I keep my eyes down to avoid ogling him.
“It would probably help the conversation if you looked at me.” I hear the hint of a smile in his voice and snap my gaze to his. “Better.”
“I need more time.” There, simple. I don’t take note of the way his shorts hang from his hips at his narrow waist. Or the way his T-shirt clings to his biceps screaming, ‘look!’ Or the way his thick, dark-brown hair curves naturally away from his face. No, not at all. Satisfied with my attention, he smirks down at me. “Look, we’ll just get used to it, all right? I need all the time I can get.”
“Why?” he asks, “you have something coming up?”
No. “Yes.”
“Well, I do too. I want to be able to hit the bag as much as possible.”
“You’re going to box?”
“No. It’s a pastime.”
“Pity.”
“Why?” He crowds me and I swallow while the scent of him invades my nose. Clean, masculine, tempting.
“Because someone needs to knock the shit out of you.”
“Wow,” he chuckles, “you really don’t like me.”
“You made a bad first impression. Now, I’m indifferent. And you don’t really care if I like you.”
“I owe you an apology,” he takes a step forward. He loves his effect on me, it shows in the twinkl
e in his eye. Typical. “I just got…well, it was a bad day, so I apologize for the way I acted.”
“Accepted. But we don’t have to be best friends to share this space. So, let’s just divide the sandbox and go our separate ways.”
“What do you have coming up?”
“None of your business.”
He ignores my snark. “Is it like an audition?”
I wish. “Why?”
“Maybe I’m curious.”
“I’m not a pastime, so go find another to entertain yourself with.” I push past him and hear his gravelly chuckle behind me before he speaks up.
“You really should do something about that.”