Page 43 of Kingmakers, Year One

So I wasn’t expecting to plow headlong into another person. We hit hard, my bare feet slipping out from under me on the tiles as I crash down on top of a stranger.

The other person is just as naked as me. I quickly realize from the long, slim legs sliding between mine, and the soft, round breast on which my palm lands—not to mention the startled shriek of outrage—that I’ve collided with a girl.

Despite how tangled we are, she leaps up again as quick as a cat hitting water. She crosses her arms over her bare breasts, but not before I get a glimpse of a pair of milk-white tits, the pale pink nipples stiff with shock and fury.

She doesn’t seem to realize that covering her breasts has left her pussy bare. I have to physically wrench my eyes up to her face, to avoid fixating on those delicate pussy lips, clean-shaven, the same shell-pink color as her nipples.

It’s the girl from outside, the one who was dancing. I know that before I even get a proper look at her face.

She recognizes me too.

“Did you follow me in here?” she demands. “I saw you spying on me!”

“I wasn’tspying.You were dancing outside. Anybody could see you.”

“Why were you hiding in the bushes, then?”

“I wasn’t hiding! There were trees in the way. There’s a difference between standing on the other side of a tree and hiding behind a tree.”

“I don’t think there is,” the girl says, her pretty face twisted up in a scowl.

“I didn’t follow you!” My face feels hot and my heart squeezes painfully in my chest, a mix of embarrassment and discomfort, which are two emotions I thought I squashed a long time ago. “I was exercising. What are you doing in here, anyway?”

“What amIdoing?” she cries, half-scoff and half-shout. “What the fuck areyoudoing? This is the girl’s room!”

“No it isn’t,” I say, though I don’t actually know for sure.

“How do you know?” she demands.

In truth, I was guessing. Based on . . . not much, really. The fact that the changing room looked big and gloomy, and smelled like a bunch of dudes might have showered in there.

I’m about to admit that when I catch the flicker of uncertainty in the girl’s blue eyes, and I realize that she’s guessing too.

“You don’t know either,” I say.

“I . . . well . . .” in her discomfort, the girl drops her eyes, which inevitably run down the length of my naked body. I haven’t bothered to cover up, so my cock is hanging there in plain sight, slightly swollen from unexpectedly rubbing up against a sleek female body.

Her cheeks flush pink and she whips her head to the side with comical speed.

“Are you going to put some clothes on?” she demands.

“No,” I say calmly. “I haven’t showered yet.”

“I have to shower, too,” she says.

“So?”

“So, there’s no separate stalls.”

“Go in the other changing room then.”

“You don’t know if that’s even the girls’ room!”

“Neither do you.”

We glare at each other, equally as committed to being stubborn as we are unsure of whether we’re actually in the right.

Neither of us wants to cave. But we can’t stand here naked forever.

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