Page 27 of See Me

My parents will see. All my friends will see.

They’ll know I lied to them. The school will see and certainly cancel the contract they sent me yesterday. I finally get the chance to breathe a little easier and now it’s going to be over before it starts. I’ll be homeless and jobless, with a criminal record.

I have to find a way out of here. Or hide. Yes, I’ll hide. Using my flashlight, I toss everything in my bag. I fold the small, thin sheet I found in the closet and throw it under the cot. I almost put my shoes on and think twice knowing my bare feet will be quieter.

I really should’ve inspected this place more last night, but I was emotionally exhausted and fell right into the cot and passed out. Shining the flashlight on the walls, I swing it up and down, back and forth, looking for a door, a closet, a window, anything.

Bag clutched to my chest, I slide down the wall. There’s only one way in or out, and it’s currently occupied. Setting my bag down, I crawl to the door. There’s no light poking through anywhere and no keyhole or peephole to look through, so I put my head to the floor, trying to see ifI can see anything.

Nothing.

I sit with my back to the door and it rattles my teeth. I’m not really a workout girl, but does the music have to be so loud? I’m mentally trying to recreate the gym in my mind. Is there a chance I can sneak out without him seeing me?

Dangit.

And go where?

Maybe I can just crack the door a tiny bit and see where he is. I shuffle around to position myself on the side of the door and twist the handle as slowly as I can. I can’t even tell if it’s squeaky because death metal bounces around my brain and pinballs off my skull.

The screaming lyrics are the exact opposite of calming. I guess that makes it a good choice of workout music. There may be some logic to that, but my brain can’t land on a single complete thought right now.

As soon as the door cracks enough to let some light in, I drop my body flat to the floor and hold my breath. I shake my head at the ridiculousness of my actions. This isn’t some war movie where I have to take cover from the enemy throwing grenades if I’m spotted. I shrug, as much as one can shrug lying flat on cold concrete, when I realize Luca as an enemy militant throwing bombs isn’t too far off.

I scoot forward on my elbows until I can see through the crack in the door. I can’t hear anything over the music, but I can see a jump rope swinging a mile a minute in the far-right corner of the gym, with Luca’s hand the only part of him visible. At least I hope it’s Luca. The thought didn’t cross my mind that it could be anyone else. What if this isn’t just his gym? Does he let friends use it? Does he have friends?

Doubtful.

The jump rope hits the floor, and I really wish I could hear it. It would be more comforting if I could be alerted to his movements through the gym when he’s out of sight. Lucacomes into view, and I hold my breath. He’s wearing black shorts, no shirt, and his feet are bare. He paces a ring around the mats, slowing his breathing and shaking out his legs and arms. When he turns his back to me, I can see that his full sleeve tattoos wrap around his shoulders and back. It’s a lot of blacks and grays, and from here it looks like a pattern of little shapes. I gasp when he turns his back fully to me and pauses. I see a shape take form.

Angel wings.

The last thing I thought I would see on someone so hard and cold. Speaking of hard, Luca's body is all ridges and valleys, hard muscle covered in tanned skin. He grabs a roll of tape and sits on the bench, wrapping one wrist several times until it's a thick band of white. He uses his teeth to rip the tape, andwhy is that so hot?I inch the door a bit wider and scoot a little closer to the opening as he tapes his other wrist and tosses the roll, not caring where it lands.

At least he stays true to form.

He pulls boxing gloves on, again with his teeth.

When did it get hot in here?

I drop my cheek to the concrete floor to cool my heated skin, watching him dance around on the balls of his feet before he starts hitting the bag. I don’t know anything about boxing, or fighting in general, but I do know I don’t ever want to see an actual person on the receiving end of his fists. He’s powerful and uncontrolled.

Angry.

I bite my lip as the muscles in his back flex and bunch, slick with sweat. Every few moves he jukes to the side, and I’ll catch a glimpse of his face in the mirror. The scrunched forehead, furrowed brows, and black eyes should scare me, but instead my clit throbs like a jackhammer. It’s impossible to squeeze my legs together in this position, so I snake my handdown and push on my clit through my shorts to relieve the ache.

Maybe Enzo was right.

Luca picks up the pace, though I’ve no idea how. He’s been attacking this bag for ten minutes straight. I get a glimpse of his face and see him winded andcrap on a crackerturn the music down so I can hear the grunts.

I tip onto one hip and slip a hand into the waistband of my shorts, needing to quell this ache. Just for a minute. I pull my lips into my mouth and bite so I don’t make any outward sounds when I get inside my underwear and they are drenched.

Stepping to the side, Luca raises a knee so hard into the bag it swings away, and I can see his full form in the mirror for a split second. Face hard as steel with sweat dripping down his already slick chest and abs. His thighs must be wet too because his shorts stay bunched up on the leg he used on the bag.

Luca grabs the bag by the chain, and I picture his hand fisted in my hair instead as he raises his knee in quick succession. Driving it into the bag over and over where I feel the muscles in his back flex while he buries himself deep inside me.

My hands are slick with sweat as I hang on, wrapping my legs around his hips, his powerful thighs thrusting so hard my ass comes up off the floor. The fist in my hair tugs my head to the side, and he bites and sucks his way down my neck and chest. He comes up on his knees, gripping my hips as he thrusts into me, the cold concrete biting into my shoulders. My moans get louder and he covers my mouth with his hand.

Shhh, I know, baby.

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