On a Wednesday (One Week 2)

“Thank you,” he said as I was turning around. “Wait a minute, Courtney. He’s probably at The Pete working out. Try there.”

I thanked him again and headed to the closest shuttle stop.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, I swiped my student card at the gym. There were only a few students working out on the machines, and Kyle wasn’t one of them.

Confused, I walked over to the reception area.

One of his teammates was flirting with the brunette behind the desk.

“Have you seen Kyle Stanton up here tonight?” I tapped him on the shoulder.

“I have.” He raised his eyebrow. “Who are you and why are you asking?”

“Can you just tell me where he is? I need to talk to him.”

He stared at me for a while, and then he tilted his head to the side. “You’re that chick who’s writing your thesis about him, huh?”

I nodded, and he lowered his voice.

“I hope you made him look good in the piece,” he said. “He’s bragged about your writing to anyone who will listen, for weeks.”

He motioned for me to follow him, and I obliged.

He led me past all the cardio machines, then outside onto a private walkway.

Sensing my hesitation, he looked over his shoulder. “You need to talk to him, or not?”

I continued following him until we made it to a small red-brick building with a black glass door.

He typed a few digits into the keypad and stepped back. “There you go. This is as close as I’ve ever been to it.”

I stepped inside the room, only to be met with another set of doors with keypad entry.

What the hell?

I turned to look at his teammate, but he was long gone. Then I suddenly remembered what Kyle had confided in me about getting his own private gym.

Starting at the keypad, I realized that the pad read “K.S.” and called for a passcode.

I guessed a few phrases like “first round draft pick,” “Ride me,” and “I like sex,” but it didn’t open.

On a whim, I tried, “Courtney,” and the doors slowly opened—giving way to an all mirrored room with sleek black machines.

Looking sexy as usual, Kyle was sitting on a bench, his jaw clenched as he lifted weights. Shirtless and sweaty, his muscles flexed in rhythm with his arms.

His eyes met mine within seconds and he slowly set down the barbells. “Are you here to make good on that Primanti Brothers gift card thing? I’m looking forward to that sandwich.”

“The password to your private gym is my name, Kyle.”

“I’m well aware of that.” He smiled. “I changed it at the end of last semester. I thought first round draft pick or something else would be far too easy for someone to guess. Good attempt on your part.”

My heart swelled in my chest.

“I don’t see you producing those gift cards,” he said. “Isn’t that why you came up here?”

“Yes and no,” I said. “I wanted to say thank you for coming to my presentation, even though security kicked you out.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome. I was actually entertained the entire time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, your lips were fascinating to watch,” he said. “I’d tell you what I was thinking, but I don’t think you can handle it.”

I blushed. “Why didn’t you sit in the audience like a normal person?”

“I didn’t want you to think that I cared that much.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, Courtney.” He pressed his forehead against mine, wrapped his arm around my waist. “I do care about you.”

“I’m starting to think that you’re the only person on campus who does.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

I shook my head. “It’s the best thing that’s happened to me in college so far.”

His mouth claimed mine within seconds, and I couldn’t help wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Wait.” I pulled my head back mid-kiss, my heart racing a mile a minute. “I can’t do this without asking you some things.”

“I think the questions can wait.”

“It’s not those.” I looked into his eyes. “Are you sleeping with anyone else?”

“We’ve discussed this, Court.” He bit down hard on my bottom lip and I moaned.

“What about a few days before we kissed in that parking lot?”

He slid his hand under my dress and yanked off my panties. “My answer won’t change.”

“Past two and a half to three months?” I sucked in a breath as he pressed his thumb against my clit. “What about then?”

He blinked, looking at me as if I’d lost my mind. Then that familiar cocky grin spread across his face as he slid two fingers deep inside of me. “I haven’t thought about anyone else since the day I met you at The Talking Vaginas.”

“The Vagina Monologues,” I corrected him.

“It’s a terrible play no matter how you say the title.” He used his other hand to tilt my chin up with his fingertips. “I haven’t been with anyone this semester, and I wasn’t with anyone last semester. I have completely turned into a pussy when it comes to you.”