One
Denise
I’m being stalked by a six-foot-tall hockey player, and I can’t tell whether I like it or not.
Honestly, it’s leaning more toward the latter, but that’s information that I’ll happily be keeping to myself because as much as I secretly enjoy the attention I get from Lucas Callahan, that’s all it’s ever going to be.
He can look but he can’t touch.
And okay…maybe I’m not playing fair because wearing my matching pink workout set to the gym wasn’t exactly necessary.
The spandex of my shorts cups my ass, doing favors for the curves I don’t necessarily have but like to pretend I do. While on the other hand, bending over quickly made me realize my bra was more for aesthetics than function.
But hey, I have every right to want to look hot while working out.
Lucas not being able to take his eyes off me just so happens to be a bonus.
He’s aware that I know he’s watching me.
It’s a game we’ve been playing for months. He can’t keep his eyes off me, I pretend I don’t notice, and we never say a word. But for some reason, today I find it a little hard to play along.
I’m chalking it up to the fact that not only did he come in wearing a white muscle tee that shows off his golden tan skin and stupidly delicious arms, but the second he walked into the gym and spotted me, he apparently decided that today he was going to have the audacity to blatantly watch me.
And maybe it has something to do with me knowing the hockey players have a gym of their own. Fancier than the one here on campus by far.
There, he has access to slide boards. KPullies. VertiMax.
You name it.
It’s a hockey player’s dream, really.
But why he comes here isn’t beyond me, which is why I make a show of working out.
Usually, he’d look away the second I caught him staring, just for him to do it again, but the past hour has consisted of him watching me while he works out. There’s something about the way he’s almost moving on autopilot just so his attention stays entirely on me, that has me trying to be subtle about pressing my thighs together.
His dark brown eyes move with every step I take, his knowing grin sending a shiver down my spine. The black ringlets that make up his hair are slightly frizzy from his movements and the sweat that coats the back of his neck.
He’s not that much taller than me—maybe only a five-inch difference—but he holds himself with a level of confidence that I usually make a mission to intimidate out of men. I don’t think too much about why I haven’t done it to him yet.
Lucas’s eyes watch and I try to keep my facial expression neutral.
Indifferent.
Not letting Lucas know that I feel whatever this shift is that’s happening between us.
While focusing on my own squats, I can’t help but watch Lucas set the barbell down and purposely sit on a bench right behind me. His eyes follow every time I squat down but because I like seeing the pained look on his face, I may or may not find myself purposely squatting down lower, staying still for a few seconds longer before coming back up.
My thighs are burning but the look on Lucas’s face is worth it.
Wide eyes and teeth chewing on the inside of his bottom lip.
I take it even a step further by making direct eye contact with him through the mirror, not even bothering to hide my own grin.
After doing this for a few sets, I let out an amused snort when Lucas fixes his shorts. His head snaps toward me at the sound and his eyebrows furrow for all of half a second before he quickly replaces the look with his infamous boyish grin.
“You got a staring problem, Callahan?” I finally let my voice cut through the tension-filled silence between us.
“Only when it comes to you, Stryker.”