The Locker Room(22)
“Must have been my perfume, I heard it has pheromones or something like that in it.”
Dottie rolls her eyes. “Keep telling yourself that, Emory.”
How does one choose what donut to get when there are at least twenty different flavors?
I’m in black leggings, an oversized sweatshirt that continues to hang off my shoulder, and my hair is piled in a mess on top of my head. It’s my Sunday garb, and I have no shame in it. I have one mission today and that’s to get a world-famous Frankie Donut, some coffee, and then walk back to my dorm, which is a mile away, making it a two-mile journey altogether and a guilt-free day of taking down a donut.
When I asked Lindsay and Dottie if they wanted to go with me, they rudely threw their pillows at their doors, pushing me away. I took that as a no.
I’ve learned very quickly they’re not morning people. That’s fine. I plugged my earbuds in, turned on my Spotify walking playlist, and took the journey down the Brentwood Boardwalk that borders Lake Michigan. The morning breeze coming off the lake and the bright sun shining down on me was exactly what my soul needed.
Now if only I could choose a donut.
I’ve let at least three people pass me in line, not wanting to make a rushed decision. This is my first Frankie Donut, after all. It has to be perfect.
I’ve narrowed it down to four. The blueberry streusel, the cherry lemonade, the old-fashioned with spice, and the cosmic chocolate cake donut. I refuse to buy all four, because two miles will only knock off so many calories.
Ugh, decisions, decisions.
My turn again, but I’m not ready, so I turn to the person behind me. “You can go in front of me.”
But when I look up to find a very sweaty-looking Knox wearing a baseball cap and running gear, I’m a little stunned. He smiles at me, those white teeth gleaming against his tan face. “I’d rather watch you continue to be indecisive.”
“Good Lord, how long have you been there?”
“Long enough.” He nods at the case of donuts. “What are you thinking?”
“It’s between four.” I bite my bottom lip in embarrassment.
He takes a step toward the counter and says, “A water and four donuts please.” He nods for me to join him. “Which ones? We can taste test them together.”
I’m about to tell him I’m good, but when he smirks and pleads with those sinfully charming eyes of his, I can’t help but give in. It’s a devilish smirk and a gleam in his eyes, born straight from Satan himself. Knox Gentry is a man who gets what he wants very often.
I order the four donuts I was debating between, as well as a coffee, and pull out my money from my sports bra. When I go to pay, Knox pushes my money to the side and says, “I got it, Em.”
I consider fighting him paying for my breakfast, but with the long line behind us, I decide to not cause a scene. I watch as the girl at the register passes glances over Knox, appreciating his physical form, taking in his broad chest and winning smile.
Can’t even be mad at her, because I’m doing the same exact thing.
Sweaty Knox is a sexy Knox.
He hands me my coffee, and I fill it with sugar and cream and meet him by the door. He holds it open for me and nods toward a little bench that overlooks the picturesque lake. I follow him and take a seat, soaking in the fresh morning air. There is nothing better in my opinion than waking up early enough to still taste the brand-new morning.
“Were you out running?” I ask, even though it’s kind of obvious.
“Yeah, I try to get some miles in on the weekends, keep up my stamina. What about you?” Of course he does. Get some miles in . . . I get my miles in for donuts.
“I’d like to say I was working out,” I say while dangling my feet off the bench seat, “but I basically walked to the donut shop and convinced myself that walking to and from my dorm would give me the go-ahead to take down some fried dough.”
He chuckles. “I think that’s fair. You really live in the dorms?”
He hands me a napkin and then pops open the donut box between us. An impromptu meetup. I can’t say it doesn’t put a smile on my face.
“Yes, what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, I just don’t know many juniors who still live in the dorms, that’s all.”
“Oh, well, Lindsay and Dottie didn’t want to live in some skeezy place off campus, and since these were brand-new dorms, with all the amenities and a dining hall, seemed like a win-win. Don’t have to make food, we have maid service every Tuesday, and we don’t have to buy things like toilet paper.”
“Damn.” He leans back on the bench and splits the first donut in half—cherry lemonade—and hands it to me. “I’ve gone about this living situation all wrong. I have my own roll of toilet paper in my room that I keep hidden and take in and out of the bathroom with me, because no one ever refills the roll. Toilet paper is sacred in the loft.”
“You’re a smart man, Knox Gentry.”
His brows lift in surprise. “Yeah, you think so?”
“Don’t get too excited, you’re just smart enough in my eyes to carry around your own toilet paper.”
He winks at me. “It’s the basic survival skills that are the most impressive.”
He’s so ridiculous. Fun, and easygoing, the kind of guy I could see myself becoming great friends with because he’s super easy to talk to. I don’t feel nervous or like I’m stumbling over my words around him, as he makes it easy with his gorgeous smile and kind eyes.