Page 8 of Misconducts & Temptation

Silence greeted me. With a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

The boys' locker room hit me like a wall of heat and stench. The heavy odor of sweat and old socks mingled with the sharp scent of disinfectant barely masking it. It was different from the girls' locker room—more raw, more intense. I stepped inside, nose wrinkling as I adjusted to the smell.

Lockers stood ajar with crumpled uniforms spilling out like secrets unwillingly revealed. Empty water bottles rolled on the floor alongside crumpled papers and sports gear. The air felt thick and humid, making each breath feel laborious.

I started with the benches, stacking forgotten jerseys and wiping down surfaces slick with moisture. The floor came next; a combination of mud tracks and dried sweat formed an unpleasant mosaic underfoot.

A loud clang echoed from deeper within the locker room, snapping me back to reality.

“Is someone there?” My voice sounded smaller than intended against the tiled walls.

No response came, just the hum of fluorescent lights overhead and distant laughter from students in other parts of the building.

I continued cleaning, my hands moving methodically despite my racing thoughts. This place was suffocating at times—both Crestwood Academy and home—but I couldn’t afford to falter now. Not when every day felt like another step closer to escape.

As I moved deeper into the locker room, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Maybe it was just my nerves playing tricks on me. I shook it off and kept working, focusing on each task to keep my mind occupied.

When I reached the bathroom, I pushed the door open with my hip, balancing a stack of towels in one arm and a spray bottle in the other. The door swung open silently, revealing the tiled expanse within.

My heart stopped. One of the players stood there, his back against the wall, eyes half-closed in pleasure. Kneeling before him was a girl, her head bobbing rhythmically.

I froze, my face heating up instantly. For a split second, I thought about sneaking out quietly, hoping they hadn’t noticed me. But fate had other plans.

My foot caught on the edge of a bench as I tried to backpedal, and I went sprawling forward. Towels flew everywhere, the spray bottle clattering loudly against the tiles.

The girl screamed, jerking away and scrambling to her feet. She didn’t look back as she bolted out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of shock and embarrassment in her wake.

The guy’s eyes snapped open and locked onto mine. He didn’t say anything at first—just stared at me with a mix of curiosity and amusement. My face burned hotter as I fumbled to pick up the scattered towels and supplies.

He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

Not in this context.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, not daring to meet his gaze directly.

He didn’t move from his spot except to adjust himself, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally said, his voice calm and low.

I grabbed the last towel and stood up, clutching everything tightly to my chest as if it could shield me from this mortifying moment. I’d never been this embarrassed before; it felt like my whole body was on fire.

The guy leaned against the wall, his messy hair and dark circles giving him a wild, almost unkempt appearance. His uniform hung loosely on his lanky frame, and there was a smirk playing on his lips that made my stomach twist in knots.

"Who are you?" His voice was gruff, curiosity lacing each word. "I've never seen you before."

"I work here." My voice was barely above a whisper. "Locker room attendant."

"Name?"

I almost looked over my shoulder. I knew he was talking to me, but it still felt weird. No one really asked unless it was a professor or something.

"Elodie," I said.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Well, Elodie, you sure know how to make an entrance." He smirked. “I’m Keaton… Keaton Douglas.”

I did know him. He played hockey.. among other things.

My face burned hotter as I tried to gather myself. "That... that was really unhygienic," I blurted out before I could stop myself. "Doing... that... in a public locker room."

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