The Locker Room(16)

What?

I blink a few times.

Did I just hear her right?

Hired?

Holy. Shit.

“Seriously? I got the internship?”

“Yes, now stop wasting my time, I have things to do.” When she glances at me, she picks up her number two pencil and points it directly at me as she speaks. “Don’t let me down, Miss Ealson. I want you to bring the hammer down on these college students. My library is not for sex.”

“Understood.” I stand. “Trust me, when I’m on watch, there will be no fondling of penises in these sacred walls.”

From the disgusted look on her face, I immediately know we’re not at that stage of our working relationship. No mention of penis. Got it.

I apologize. “I’m sorry I said fondling penises. I won’t say that again.”

She points to the door behind me. “Just leave before I change my mind.”

“Sure, yup. Thank you.” I bow for some stupid reason. At this point, I barely have a hold on what my body does. “Have a good day, see you tomorrow. Yippee.”

Hell, Emory, don’t say yippee.

She glares at me one more time before I shut the door behind me. I lean against it a few seconds, clutching my folders to my chest. That almost seemed too easy. And maybe I was one of very few candidates for the internship, but I will take whatever I can get. It’s one more step closer to achieving my goal. This experience will grant me so many more opportunities when I graduate.

Time to charge up that cell phone.





“Hey, Ealson, wait up.”

That voice. I would know it anywhere by now. Knox is jogging up to me wearing athletic pants, a tight Under Armour shirt that clings to every part of his chest, and a backward hat. He’s sweaty with rosy cheeks, and a giant smile lights up his face. I will say this about the man, he wears casual well . . . really well.

Iced coffee in hand, I pause and let him quickly bring me into a hug.

“Ew, gross.” I push at his chest. “You’re all wet.”

“It’s called hard work.” He laughs and pulls away, glancing at my outfit. “Hot skirt, Em, how many of those do you have?”

“More than you need to know about.” Resuming my walk to the dorms, he follows closely next to me. For a college campus so big, it’s surprising how many times I run into him. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he implanted a personal tracker on me somewhere.

Note to self: scan body for personal trackers when I get back to my dorm.

“Are you coming this weekend?” he asks.

“Coming where?”

“We’re having a party at the loft.”

I bring my drink to my mouth but it’s quickly snagged from my hand. In shock, I watch Knox take a long pull from the straw.

“Hey, that’s mine.”

“I know, but didn’t you learn it’s nice to share?” He takes another sip before I steal it back. With the underside of my shirt, I wipe the straw, giving it a good cleaning.

“I don’t have fucking cooties, Ealson.”

“I don’t know that,” I reply with a lift to my chin. “Who knows where your mouth has been?”

“I’ll tell you one place it hasn’t been, that it desperately wants to go.” He wiggles his brows at me and glances down at my crotch.

Men.

I pick up my pace, trying to gather some distance, but it’s useless. The guy has the longest legs ever and pulls me into his chest, arm draped over my shoulders. It’s a position I’m starting to become accustomed to when it comes to Knox Gentry.

“Are you coming to the loft this weekend?”

“Eh, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“I have plans,” I answer curtly. Plans that include watching videos of jumping goats on YouTube. That shit is hysterical.

“What kind of plans?”

“Just plans.”

He steps in front of me, becoming a human roadblock. With a lift of my chin, he forces me to look him in his devastatingly handsome face. “Tell me what your plans are because I don’t believe you.”

Shit.

How convincing is an addiction to goat videos?

Hell, I don’t have any plans. None at all. I’m actually pretty sure the girls wanted to go to the loft this weekend since we haven’t partied in a few weekends, but I don’t want Knox to know that. He’s utterly too cocky and confident and already got his way when it comes to sitting next to me in class. And I truly have no idea why he’s bothering with that. I’ve told him I’m not interested, and there are many other girls who would be. Odd man.

I’ve tried sitting in the front, but he joins me. And when I purposefully didn’t show up until one minute before class and sat as far away from him as possible, he switched seats. He’s relentless. And maybe we haven’t “talked” in class, but he keeps writing me notes, and for the life of me I can’t seem to turn away from his computer to see them. It’s really annoying.

“Uh, you know . . .” Why am I not good at thinking on my feet? “Washing my hair.”

He snorts.

In my face.

And then tilts his head back and laughs.

I can’t even be mad about it. If I wasn’t trying to pass off my idiotic answer as the truth, I’d be laughing too.