Page 36 of Misconducts & Temptation

My heart pounded in my chest as I stepped off the bus and onto campus grounds, ready to face another day of uncertainty and quiet determination.

The campus looked different in summer, with sunlight painting everything in a golden hue. The manicured lawns stretched out like green carpets, dotted with clusters of students enjoying the warm weather. The flowers in the garden beds exploded in vibrant colors, and the air buzzed with the hum of cicadas.

I made my way toward Pandora's Box, the campus rink. It stood at the edge of the sports complex, its sleek design contrasting sharply with the old brick buildings around it. As I approached, I could hear the faint sound of skates slicing across ice and the occasional shout from a coach. I wondered if the rookie camp had already started, or if it was still early.

Pushing open the heavy doors, I stepped inside. The chill hit me immediately. The smell of ice and sweat mingled in the air, a scent I had grown accustomed to over my months working here. I nodded to a few familiar faces as I walked past, heading for the locker rooms.

My steps echoed in the quiet hallway as I approached the administration building next door. This was where my day truly began. Inside, it was cool and dimly lit, a refuge from both the heat and noise outside. I moved through the halls with purpose, making my way to my cubby.

Setting my bag down carefully, I grabbed a stack of fresh towels from the shelf. The soft fabric felt comforting under my fingers, a small luxury amidst my chaotic life. I slung them over my arm and headed back out.

My mind wandered to Keaton as I walked back toward Pandora's Box. His intense blue eyes flashed in my memory, and I wondered if our paths would cross again today. It seemed unlikely—he probably had better things to do than spend time with someone like me—but the thought lingered, nonetheless.

The rink came back into view as I rounded the corner. A few players were already on the ice, their movements fluid and practiced. I paused for a moment, watching them glide effortlessly across the surface. It was mesmerizing in its own way.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the locker room door and stepped inside, ready to start another day of work.

I stepped into the girl’s locker room, the faint scent of lavender and disinfectant mingling in the cool air. My routine started with emptying the laundry bins, a task that had become second nature. I picked up the heavy bag of used towels and uniforms, lugging it over to the rolling bin where I would then take it to the industrial washer down the hall.

The rhythmic patting of skates on rubber echoed through the room as a couple of figure skaters entered, their laughter light and carefree. They didn’t spare me a glance as they continued their animated conversation.

"Did you hear about the masquerade this weekend?" one of them asked, her voice high and excited.

"Of course! Everyone's talking about it," the other replied, pulling off her skates and setting them neatly on the bench. "I heard Keaton Douglas is looking for someone."

My ears perked up at the mention of Keaton's name. I kept my head down, pretending to focus on folding a fresh stack of towels.

"What? Who? I thought he went through girls the way Coach goes through drills," the first skater said, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "No way it's someone he actually cares about."

The second girl giggled. "Well, he's getting married to Lola Perez! There's always some drama with him. It's obvious he doesn't want to, though I don't know why. She's rich and gorgeous, and didn't they date back in high school?"

Their words hung in the air, buzzing like persistent flies. I busied myself with refilling the soap dispensers and wiping down the benches, trying to block out their chatter. But it was impossible not to hear every word.

"I heard it didn't end well," one of them mused. "Lola's been all over him lately, but they say he's not interested, even with her being so rich."

"Lola's always around," her friend said with a roll of her eyes. "She just can't take a hint."

They both laughed, a sound that felt sharp and cutting in my ears.

I moved to the lockers next, making sure each one was stocked with clean towels and supplies. The skaters continued their conversation as if I were invisible, their words painting a vivid picture of a world so different from mine.

"Did you go?" one asked.

"Duh," her friend replied. "How could I not? I wanted to hook up with Tristan, and I knew he was going, so…"

A pang of longing hit me as I listened to them plan their evening. I couldn’t afford such luxuries or time for dreams like theirs.

The last locker closed with a satisfying click, signaling the end of my tasks here. I gathered my cleaning supplies and headed toward the door, leaving behind their world of masquerades and gossip for mine of hard work and silent determination.

As I wheeled the cart of dirty towels down the hall, the skaters' words echoed in my mind. Who could Keaton be looking for? Could it be… The idea seemed ridiculous, yet it clung to me like a stubborn shadow.

I pushed open the heavy door to the laundry room, the smell of detergent and bleach hitting me as I stepped inside. The industrial-sized washer stood like a giant bug, waiting for its next load. I began transferring the towels from the cart to the washer, each movement methodical and precise.

Keaton Douglas. The name itself carried weight, a mix of privilege and mystery. He was everything I wasn't—wealthy, popular, confident. And yet, for a fleeting moment, I wondered if he could be looking for someone like me.

No. Why would he be looking for me? I was just a scholarship student, an invisible worker in the background of his grand life. We had one interaction. He didn't even know it was me. My fingers fumbled with the last towel, and I shook my head, trying to dispel the absurd notion.

I closed the washer door with a solid thunk and set it to start its cycle. As the machine roared to life, I leaned against the cool tiled wall, allowing myself a moment's break. My eyes drifted shut, and against my better judgment, I let my mind wander.

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