CHAPTER THREE
Sawyer
I’m in the break room, trying not to fall asleep into my drink, when Taylor pokes her head round the door.
“Your girl’s here, Sawyer.” I don’t bother to correct her. It won’t stop her from saying it, and I kind of like hearing it. Draining the water, I put the glass into the dishwasher and wander out to the main gym. Taylor is back behind the desk and nods toward the locker rooms. “She’s gone to get changed.”
“Okay, thanks.” I make my way into the gym, and even though it’s quietened down a bit since the after-work rush, there’s still a decent crowd here. Thankfully, there are two free treadmills next to each other, so I program them both and start walking on mine while waiting for Harlow.
I see her appear in the entryway before she sees me, and I watch her scan the floor. She’s got the resting bitch face on, which I’m thankful for because she looks incredible, her icy-blond hair in a bun that lets her face show off its natural beauty. She always looks flawless and gets an unlimited amount of attention, but guys especially can’t help themselves when she’s in Lycra, and I don’t blame them. I can barely help myself. The resting bitch face doesn’t deter many men, but any deterrence is a good thing in my book. I watch her until her gaze settles on me and her face brightens, dropping the act and letting those plump lips split into a smile as she makes her way over. I would do many, many things to keep earning that smile.
“Hey,” she greets me. “How was your day?”
“It felt long,” I admit. We both have way longer days than this sometimes, but the late-night partying was not a good idea. Am I getting old at the ripe age of twenty-one? “How was yours?”
“Same. I can’t wait to get home.”
“Via Chung’s?”
“Eurgh, you’re the best,” she groans. She says that so much it’s her default response, but I love it every time.
“You won’t be saying that in half an hour. We’re doing cardio today.”
“I would never moan about what you think I need,” Harlow replies in an innocent voice, but we both know that’s bullshit. Which is exactly why I sweetened her up with the promise of Chinese food in the first place.
“Ha, okay.”
“Not to your face, anyway.”
“At least it’s a short one,” I offer. Cardio is her least favorite form of training, but it’s also necessary. I don’t train her so hard to lose weight—Harlow is already perfection. It’s her strength, her self-defense skills, and her stamina that I want to also be in peak condition, and they’re getting pretty close. She works hard while she’s here, and I push her to her limits. The added incentive to this is if I’m more focused on burning muscles and teaching new skills, then I’m less focused on how much of Harlow I can see.
“That just means it’s full of inclines and speed,” she says with narrowed eyes in my direction. Miming zipping my mouth shut, I lean over and press start on the programming of her machine.
***
Half an hour later, she flops from the treadmill and lies on the ground, chest heaving with every breath. I know if I managed to tear my gaze away, I’d see every man in our vicinity looking at the same thing.
“Oh my god, you’re a sadist,” she pants.
I chuckle as I throw a towel at her. It lands perfectly over her chest and face, hiding the show from everyone, but she doesn’t move it. I wipe my own face and the machines down, and she’s still down there, so I crouch to peel the towel away from her eyes.
“Are you dead?”
“Probably.”
Standing back up, I hold my hand out, and she takes it. She puts her other hand on my arm to steady herself as I haul her up. My hands itch to pull her into my arms, and she probably wouldn’t even think that was weird for us, but I need to rein myself in. I thought touching Harlow innocently whenever I wanted would help take the edge off this craving I have for her, but it’s not working out that way at all. If anything, it’s making it worse, pushing me to take it further. Maybe I need to wean myself off her. Waiting for her to stabilize, I take a step back so her hand drops, and I gesture to the lockers.
“Come on. Chow mein waits for no one.”
Chung’s is right across the road from our apartment, so I watch Harlow go home and then go in to order. A call comes from behind the counter as the bell rings.
“Hey, Sawyer.”
“Hey, Chung.”
“The usual for you and Harlow?”
“Yes, please.”