Page 29 of Resist Me

As I exited the locker room, I stretched my arms above my head. To me, there were few things that felt better than leaving the gym after a good workout. I didn’t even do it for the strength and toned body, although those were obvious benefits. If I didn’t come here and work myself this hard, I’d probably end up committing murder at some point.

“You coming to the house tonight?” Rick asked. “We have that party.”

I shook my head. “Classes tomorrow.”

“When has that ever stopped us?”

“It hasn’t stopped you. I don’t enjoy being hungover while an instrument blares in my ears.”

“You should live a little while you still can, Linc.”

I was prepared to make a snide comment, but I looked at the place I’d seen West before he ran out of here. His bag was still on the floor beside the bench. Maybe he was coming back. It had been over thirty minutes, so I doubted it.

He must’ve forgotten it in his rush. Before he left, he’d been paler than usual. It was odd and unnerving to see West in a state other than his exuberant, annoying one.

Don’t do it. Don’t fucking do it.

I moved away from Rick and headed toward the bench. Deciding it wasn’t that much of a detour, I slung it over my shoulder. It would be easy to leave it by their front door, but their apartment complex was pretty shady. I was sure it would get stolen.

It was a strange thing to be a good person but hate that you were. Did that actually make me a bad person?

A week ago, I’d been excited to finish football and never have to interact with West again. It seemed that the universe had other plans. We’d already had a few interactions since then and it was a direct affront to my desire for solitude.

I pushed open the door and was met with chill air. The rain was falling more heavily than usual and it was cold enough to make me shiver, even in my hoodie.

As I headed through the courtyard, I pulled my hood up. Having curly hair was not all it was cracked up to be. While it was wet, it was nice and wavy, but then it would become a frizzy mess. Don’t even get me started on the humidity. It was part of the reason I’d left the god-forsaken south. That and the general lack of like-minded people in my small town. There were good ones too, but for some reason, it was the assholes who were always the loudest, which made the whole place feel suffocating.

Seattle had always been something of a dream for me. I liked the city and its proximity to the water. Mild weather was a major plus. Summers weren’t excruciatingly hot and winters were mostly drizzly. Snow didn’t come every year, which was a little unfortunate but made for better road conditions. I knew how to ride well enough in the rain. Ice, on the other hand, was a biker’s worst nightmare.

My brows furrowed when I saw a dark mass on one of the benches underneath a cherry blossom tree. The branches were bare and did precious little to block the rain from falling on the person. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, only a pair of workout shorts and a t-shirt.

My stomach lurched when I recognized the outfit and the man wearing it. I picked up the pace until I stood right in front of him. Hewas lying on his side facing the back of the bench. Tentatively, I reached out to touch his shoulder and found it drenched.

God damnit. Why was he sleeping here? I thought back to how he’d looked in the gym and wondered if he was sick.

“West,” I said, shaking him gently.

He let out a dissatisfied groan and leaned away from me. I grasped his shoulder more firmly to roll him onto his back. His eyes opened, then he squeezed them shut when rain fell into them.

“Why is it wet?” he grumbled.

“You’re sleeping outside in the rain.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

“Does it?”

Opening his eyes again, he glared up at the sky angrily before he turned to me. It took a moment for recognition to dawn on his face.

“I fell asleep. Why would you wake me up?”

I raised a brow, surprised by the stupid question. “It’s raining, you’re soaked, and you left your bag.” I lifted my shoulder to showcase it.

“You should’ve left it there. Make me face the consequences of my stupidity.”

“Okay, I didn’t sign up for drama class this semester.”

“What did you sign up for?”

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