See No Evil (Brotherhood Trilogy #1)(20)

And I don’t really know why.





#11:

Wet Rags and Slimy Shower Stalls



Christiana



Gripping the soapy bucket of water, I stand beside Trey and survey the disgusting locker room. Grime, mold, sweats stains on white towels. Urine sprinkling the tiles. Knocked-over bottles of Gatorade staining the benches, the fluorescent liquid dripping onto the floor.

When the guys found out Trey and I were supposed to clean it, they grossed it up as much as they could after the game on Saturday.

A little victory riot to celebrate their win.

I didn’t go to watch the game.

I stayed hidden in my room, pretending that I didn’t love my time with Trey. I’d never even been on the ice before and he had me gliding in under an hour. He was sweet, funny, charming. He likes cinnamon in his hot chocolate, just the way I do. He plays Madden too. It was such a relief to say I loved that game. Matt taught me one weekend when Charlize and I were hanging out at his place. It’s about the manliest thing about me.

I glance to my right, studying Trey’s profile, struck once again by how good-looking he is…and how easy it was to talk to him. There was something so natural between us as he skated around me. It helped me forget. Made me feel like I was a normal person.

He has strong hands.

I like the way they felt on my arms every time he steadied me.

He gave me his jacket.

Scanning the smelly locker room, Trey turns to glare at me. Even that’s good-looking. Straight lines, strong jaw, an unimpressed slant to his mouth.

“All right, let’s get this over with,” he grumbles.

I clear my throat and attempt a smile. He ignores it, dumping his bucket on the floor and bending forward to collect dirty towels.

“You take the showers and urinals. I’ll start in here.”

My forehead wrinkles. “Why should I have to take the gross stuff?”

“Because it’s your fault we’re in this position.”

“My fault?” I slap my bucket down. Water sloshes out and wets my pant leg.

“If you hadn’t made me teach you to skate, I would have been done and back in my room before anyone caught me.”

“I didn’t make you do anything!” I throw my hands wide. “You could have said no!”

“Whatever,” he mumbles. “Just start cleaning.”

I fire him a heated glare, which he turns his back on. Why’s he being such an asshole all of a sudden?

My fault.

Whatever!

I drop my rag into the bucket. It plunges, then bobs to the top, floating on the soapy surface. Trey’s on his knees now, collecting the last of the towels and dumping them in the laundry basket. He directs a hot frown at me.

“What are you staring at? Get on with it.” He waves his finger at the showers.

“The showers and urinals are the foulest thing in here. We should have to do it together.”

Crossing his arms, he shows off his muscles without even realizing it. “Well, I’m not touching them.” He fights a grin. “Scrubbing that piss off the floor will be good strength training. You could use it.”

Turning away with a snicker, he continues picking up gear…and I have a thought.

Pushing up my hoodie sleeves, I snap my rubber gloves, pick up my bucket with the grace and dignity of a queen, and then stroll to the urinals.

They reek. Guys are so disgusting! Is it seriously that hard to aim?

Yellow splashes and dribbles are on practically every tile—walls and floor.

I grimace. I’ve never cleaned a toilet in my life, much less an entire bathroom. But I can’t see that confession getting me out of this. Besides, I have a plan. If I’m going to get Trey back for acting like a total douche then I need to get over myself.

I hold my breath, drop to my knees and pull the rag out of the bucket.

“Just do it,” I mumble and start scrubbing. I begin with the walls and floor, leaving the center of disgustingness for last. I have to make the rag as dirty as I possibly can. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.

By the time I’ve finished the wall of urinals, the water is murky with filth…and I have the perfect weapon.

I still have the showers to go, but I can’t wait any longer.

Trey has nearly finished clearing up the locker room. It looks neat and tidy. All it needs is a good clean.

Perfect.

Pulling the rag out of the water, I don’t bother ringing it out and hurl my weapon at the back of his head.

It hits him with a wet squelch, then gets caught on the back of his T-shirt.

I snicker.

His shoulders bunch and he goes still.

“I’ve finished the urinals.” I cross my arms and wait for him to turn.

Pulling the sopping rag off his neck, he spins back slowly. His eyes are stormy with disbelief, his lips tight with rage.

All I can do is smile and raise my eyebrows at him the way every guy in this school seems to do. It’s like they’re given a standard issue smirk and eyebrow raise upon entering the school. “Since you’re so set on picking up the dirty laundry, could you put that rag in there for me too? Thanks.”

His upper lip curls, his growl low and rumbling as he fires the rag back. I raise my arm and the disgusting cloth slaps me in the elbow. Snatching it off the floor, I dunk it in germ water again and toss it across the room.