The Towel

Spending last night at home with my best friend, eating snacks and watching movies, was exactly what the doctor ordered. Last night was the first time in a long time I've truly felt at peace. I even slept through the night. I can't recall the last time I had an unbroken sleep.

I approach my father's gym and, as I curl my fingers around the long door handle, I realize I'm holding my breath. Why? Probably because I'm afraid of running into Seth. He has a way of burrowing under my skin with a single look and it terrifies me. I barely know him, yet he's controlled every thought I've had these past few days. It's insane. Exhaling, I shake my head, open the door, and step inside.

Do not look at him.

Do not look at him, I tell myself.

And I fail miserably. My eyes betray me, darting straight to where he was standing yesterday. Nothing. I pout when my gaze falls onto an empty space. Seth isn't here. Suddenly, my motivation to be at the gym depletes. I wish I was back in bed, sleeping.

"Olivia!"

I snap my head in the direction of Dad's office window high up in the middle of the far wall. He hangs out of it, waving his hand in front of him, gesturing for me to come up. I wave back, pulling my bag tighter against my shoulder, and head in his direction.

Upstairs, I close the office door behind me. I glance awkwardly at memorabilia of his favorite martial artists, and boxers, in glass cases on the wall. I didn't realize he had so much stuff. I rarely come in here.

"Hey, Olly." My father rises from his chair behind his big oak desk, shrugging on a blue sports jacket. "I need a favor."

Crossing the room, I drop my backpack to the floor and fling myself into a comfy, winged-back armchair opposite him. "What kind of favor?"

"I need you to keep an eye on the gym for a couple of hours. Derrick is on sick leave and I've got no one to run this place."

I tilt my head. "Okay...where are you going?"

"I have an appointment at the hospital." He flicks his wrist like it's no big deal, but concern still etches its way across my ribs. "I should be back in a few hours."

My father plays his health close to his chest. In December last year, he suffered a stroke and didn't tell me. I found out when it accidentally slipped from Mom's lips three months later.

I frown. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine. I'm only going so I can get your mother off my back. You know how she is."

I smile. "Sure, I'll watch the gym for you."

"You're a good kid."

He stretches his arms out for a hug and I jump out of my seat to throw myself into them. Dad wraps me up in his embrace and I'm engulfed by that typical father smell. I don't know how to describe it, but it's warm. And full of love.

"I'd never put this stress on you if your brother was here."

I let my head loll back to get a better look at him. "It's not stress, Dad, and it's only for a couple of hours. I think I can handle it."

He places a soft kiss on my cheek. "Thank you."

Soon after, he hands me a long list of all the things I need to do-things he refuses to hire people to do, like wiping down the equipment, collecting towels, emptying spit buckets, and evaluating machines. I hum my agreement to all the tasks he needs done as we leave his office. I walk him to the front doors when movement catches my eye. I turn my head toward the flash of white fabric as it's thrown across the floor.

Seth.

He's here.

My heart beats fast as he curls his fingers around the hem of his plain, white tee and pulls it over his head, exposing a delicious, never-ending amount of muscle that leads down to the band of his gray sweatpants.

"Leave him be, all right?" Dad says, waving a hand in front of my face, pulling me from my stupor.

I blink a few times, then drag my stare to his and feign innocence. "Leave who be?"

"No good comes from approaching an angry man, Olly, but if he starts throwing the heavy bags again, get him one of those chilled towels we keep in the fridge. He likes those."

I flick my gaze back to Seth. Throwing heavy bags? He does that? He presses his lips into a thin line and takes to the bag bare-handed. The way his fists connect with raw power, the way he bares his teeth...what's got him so worked up?

Pushing Seth, and his aggression, to the back of my mind, I walk Dad out to his car and wave him off. When I return to the gym, my phone vibrates in the tight, back pocket of my leggings. I roll my eyes and pull it out. Blade. My ex's name on my screen stops me in my tracks and unease creeps through me. What does he want? I contemplate not answering, but a sharp streak of pettiness zips down my spine. Would it kill him to know I'm happy? Happier than ever? That I've barely thought about him or what he's doing? This morning, I put on my gym clothes without having to listen to him berate me for them being too tight. I didn't have to make him breakfast before leaving, or coffee. I just left the house.

And it was freeing.

I answer Blade's call with a cheerful hello, and the response I get in return rivals a freezing, winter morning.

"Seth Marc, Olivia? Really?" he barks. "You're fucking Seth Marc?"

What the hell? I stammer, caught off guard by the mention of Seth. "Excuse me?"

I've bumped into Seth twice. We're not friends, barely acquaintances. Even if we were more-which we're not-who does Blade think he is? Speaking to me like I've betrayed him, like he has a right to stick his nose into my sex life. Whatever right he had to me, he threw away when he stopped appreciating me-when he began cheating on me. A tremble starts in the tip of my fingers and works its way down my hand. In its wake, irritation prickles.

"Answer the question!"

"W-Who told you that?" I ask, despite every cell in my being screaming at me to hang up.

"A friend of mine saw you with him at the steakhouse. Do you have any fucking shame?" he shouts. "My side of the bed hasn't even cooled and you're already parading around town with someone else?"

"I'm not parading around town with any-"

"You're not allowed to see him."

I suck air between my teeth. Not allowed? The audacity! "I can see whoever the hell I want to see. We aren't together anymore, remember? I broke up with you."

He laughs and it's harsh, full of emotion and bitterness. It lasts all a second before he swallows it down and lets out an exhale.

"Olly," he murmurs, as calm as bay water, his voice taking a softer edge. "This guy beats people for a living and is violent against women too. He's dangerous. I...I don't want you anywhere near him."

His concern and compassion almost gets to me until I hear a female in the background asking him to join her in the shower. I recoil, pulling the phone away from my ear. Why'd I answer his call in the first place? Why have I entertained it for as long as I have? Instead of hanging up and blocking his number, I press the phone to my ear again.

"I'll continue to see Seth if I want to," I tell him. I'm sure he can hear the tremor in my voice, but I'm thankful he can't see my hands shaking. "You don't own me."

I hang up on him and squeeze my phone in my hand, preventing myself from throwing it across the room. I think I hate him.

No. I'm positive I hate him!

My phone vibrates with a text and, against my better judgment, I open it.

-

FROM: BLADE 8:59 A.M.

I'm warning you.

Stop seeing him.

-

I scoff. Wow. There's nothing like a text from an ex telling you how to live your life to put you in a bad mood. I send a message back, frowning so hard it hurts.

-

TO: BLADE 9:00 A.M.

My life is none of your business.

Don't message me again.

-

I slip my phone back into my pocket. It vibrates over and over, but I grit my teeth and ignore it. I've got things to do and a life to live. He's wasted enough of my time.

I do a quick lap of the gym's floor, picking up towels, and spraying and wipe down damp equipment so they're clean and sterile for the next person.

Joy.

I purposely leave the training rooms, and the boxing area for last, in hopes Seth will be finished by the time I get around to it. After my phone call with Blade, dealing with the opposite sex is the last thing I want to do, and it's infinitely harder with Seth because he's so beautiful, powerful, and masculine. He's breathtaking, and intense, and leaves me questioning everything I thought I knew about my body. I pause a beat. Is what Blade said true? Has Seth physically hurt a woman? Multiple women? Unease hurts my stomach, but I know better than to believe gossip that leaks from Blade's mouth.

I spend the next forty minutes doing mundane tasks, prolonging the inevitable until I have no choice but to enter his area. My heart quickens when I see him out of the corner of my eye, resting against the boxing ring stairs. I do a quick scan of the room and exhale in relief when there are no towels for me to pick up. I turn on my heel.

"Wait," Seth demands, his voice deep and rough, sending a delightful zing down my spine.

Gulping, I turn to face him. Dread slithers through my tightly coiled stomach at the sight of his tight body and angry expression. Is that for me? Is he angry at me? Thrill electrifies my blood. When did anger become a look that turned me on? I flick my gaze to the white towel he wrings in his gigantic hands. He drops it to the ground.

"You forgot one," he says.

I glance back at his stern face. Is he serious? I make my way over to him, my steps slow and calculated. His expression is unapologetic, as usual. There's no smug lip twitch or warmth to his gaze as I saunter closer. I might've picked up the towel if another male hadn't already demanded things of me this morning. I stop before the huge hunk of muscle and square my shoulders, pinning him with a glare. He peers down at me, flicking his dark, cloudy gaze over my face to stop on my lips, making my stomach flip. Lifting my hand, I press my index finger against his hard, damp chest, ignoring the zip of sensation that shoots down its length to tickle my palm.

"I'm not your maid," I tell him. "Pick up your own damn towel."

Seth pushes off the stairs, easing further into my personal space. With an arrogant simper, his hand finds my bare hip. Air rushes from my lungs as he glides his fingers against my warm flesh, grips it, and gently pulls me toward him. Driven by a deep, dark need pulsating between my thighs, I flatten my palm and press it firmly against his pectoral muscle. His heart is pounding as fast as mine. It batters his ribs, desperate to jump from his chest and into my hand.

"If you're going to touch me," he murmurs, low and gruff. "You better make it worth my time."

"Worth your time?"

I hate I sound so breathless.

"Mm," he hums, sliding his hand to my lower back, his thick fingers slipping onto the curve of my backside.

"What do you deem worth your time?"

His lips tug at one corner, his irises flash dangerously. "I don't think you can handle it."

My eyelids flutter of their own accord. It's the second time he's said that to me. "What can't I handle exactly?"

Kissing? Sex? Those words fail to manifest on my tongue in fear of what they might provoke-or not provoke.

A woman clears her throat beside us, and I startle, glancing over Seth's shoulder. The sharp lines of the gym return, and I blink. Embarrassed heat billows through me. I can't believe I completely lost track of where I am.

"Cozy," the woman says, her voice hard and unimpressed.

Seth shifts his gaze to her and his jaw tenses perceptibly, but he doesn't release his hold on me. I turn my head and it's not the same woman as the one from yesterday. This woman is blonde and beautiful-supermodel material. Her tight blue dress clings to her curvaceous build and accentuates her flawless tan. She bats her long, black eyelashes, but even I can see the frustration in her blue eyes that glower from underneath.

I try to pull away from Seth's grip, but he tightens his hold.

"Seth," I murmur. "Let me go."

His jaw tightens and he turns his dark eyes on me. Disappointment flares in the deep depths of his whiskey irises. I tilt my head, a silent demand, and, blowing impatient air out his nose, Seth drops his hand to his side. I whirl on my heel and march away from them as Seth speaks to the woman in a low tone. I storm to Dad's office without a glance over my shoulder and slam the door behind me. Never in a million years would I have thought Dad's creepy shrine-like office would bring me comfort, but it does. I close my eyes and focus on calming my racing heart. I feel pressure on my hip as if Seth still holds me, and it radiates pleasure through my entire being.

I want him.

I want him bad.

But he's trouble and I'm sick and tired of trouble.

I push off the door with a sigh and saunter toward the large, square window that overlooks the gym. I spot Seth, walking in the direction of the men's shower room, his clothes clenched in his hand. The blonde woman stands by the boxing ring, staring after him, her face a twisted mess of confusion and sadness. A pang of hurt curls in my stomach for her. I never want to be one of those girls-one he beds, then disposes of. I wonder, does he make it clear he doesn't want anything to do with them after sex? Has he had sex with them? I shake the stupid thought from my head. Of course he's had sex with them. I'm sure he has a ravenous sexual appetite. An appetite I'd never be able to sate.

I turn from the window and drop into Dad's office chair, placing my feet on his big, oak desk. I try not to think about the pulsating pressure on my hip or the relentless throb between my legs. My thoughts instantly drift to my call with Blade and the woman who spoke in the background. Irritation bursts inside me. If he can have casual sex, why can't I?

I pull my phone out of my pocket and clear all Blade's missed calls from my notifications bar. Then, I text Selena. I rush my fingers across the screen, making typos as I go and thanking God for auto-correct.

-

TO: SELENA 9:40 A.M.

Be at mine 10 tonight

We're going out!