Bad Intentions

by Stayton, Nacole

  The truth is a liar.

  “Your sister has a crush on Kaiser.” I know it’s a low blow, but tossing Zoe under the bus is the only way to take the heat off me.

  She squeals in horror as her secret is laid bare to the light of day. Tank cracks his knuckles like he’s about to find Kaiser and beat him to a pulp. “I gotta go,” he says tightly before turning to stalk away.

  “You play dirty,” Zoe snaps, as she walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind her.

  Almost four minutes pass before she exits. I know, because I’ve been staring at my phone, ready to pretend like I’m texting someone. Obviously, I have no one to text, but I don’t want to face the fact that I’ve gone and made my friend mad at me. Actually, mad is an understatement. From the look on her face as I turn around in my chair to make eye contact, she’s more than a little irritated.

  “That’s right, this is my pissed face.” Is she a Jedi mind reader? I’m momentarily taken aback at being called out. A fast movement startles me as Zoe shoots her pointer finger upward toward the side of her face. “Payback is normally a cold-hearted butch, but I’m going to let this one slide because I know you were embarrassed, and I’m sure that being the sheltered little bean that you were, you never had to live by girl code.”

  “Butch?”

  An exasperated huff slides out of her mouth. “Butch as in that was a butch—replace the u with an i—thing to do.”

  Nodding, I reply. “Gotcha.” I swallow my pride with a gulp of air. “Look I’m sorry Z. I don’t know why I said it. You know what, actually I do. I’m going to be totally honest. Ryle gets under my skin. Just the insinuation that I like him, irks me. He’s like when you accidentally scrape your fork with your teeth. It’s the most unpleasant thing in the universe, and that’s basically how I feel about him. He’s unpleasant, but…I do feel something that pulls me toward him. It’s most likely his stellar face, because we both know it’s not his impressive people skills.”

  “Like I said, I’m going to let this little slip of the lip slide. But,” she hesitates. “I’m going to have to install a chastity belt on your mouth if you ever tell another soul. Capisce?”

  “Capisce.” I repeat.

  We make it to the gym at twelve thirty, and it’s practically deserted. I crane my neck to look around, only to find a handful of people scattered here and there. Spotting a water fountain, I make my way over as I pull an empty pink bottle out of my gym bag to fill it with cold water.

  Feeling the weight of someone’s arm drape over my shoulders, I tilt my head to the side. My nose collides with Tank’s. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, apologizing.

  “You’re going to have to make it up to me.” My fingertips graze Tanks hand innocently.

  “You drive a hard bargain, but I’m willing to do anything,” his voice changing pitch as he fakes desperation.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Come on. Help me stretch.” I slide his hand off my shoulder and wrap my fingers with his. It may seem odd to some, but I already feel like Taylor is my brother. Am I mad that he called me out? Yup. But I’ll get over it.

  “So what kind of stretching do you have in mind? As you can tell…” he says, as he waves both hands in front of his midsection. “I’m not that limber.”

  “Don’t you stretch in practice?”

  “Uh, duh.”

  My head wags like a dog. “Uh, duh. Elaborate.”

  “We do like, lunges and stuff.”

  “And stuff?” Men are so vague. It’s a highly disappointing trait.

  “Like rotator cuff and torso stretches.”

  I place my hand on my hip. “So you don’t stretch your quads, hamstrings, calves, glutes or groin?”

  Tank makes a disturbing face by scrunching his nose and showcasing what appears to be his imitation of duck lips.

  “Physical therapy major,” I say by way of explanation.

  He taps a finger on his forehead. “Makes sense. Now where were we?”

  “Well, since you have something to make up to me, you’re going to help me stretch. Then I’ll decide if you’re forgiven or not.”

  In a split second, he pulls apart the snap button on his athletic pants as he rips the cloth away from his body like a Chippendale dancer. The black and white lined material puddles on the floor around him. “Now where do you want me, Kitten?”

  I roll my eyes and lie down on the mat, my back flat against the cool vinyl. One leg rests flat against the mat while I hold the other in the air. He looks at me apprehensively. “Go ahead.” I nod my head, giving him permission. He kneels on the mat in front of me and places both of his palms on the back of my leg and puts pressure on my hamstring. Gently, he pushes on my leg with a forward motion. I hold the stretch for a solid fifteen seconds before he slowly drops my leg and pushes up the other.

  “This is totally giving me a boner.”

  His admission causes me to roar with laughter. The sudden feeling that people are watching us causes me to mute my hyena-like cackling, but my core still shakes with amusement, totally out of my control. “You’re—.”

  “Horny?”

  “I was going to say a mess. But…eww.” I push his chest. My hand is met by more hardness than I was expecting.

  “What? I workout.” He balls his fists together and silently pounds on his chest like a caveman.

  Shaking my head, I push myself up off the mat and stretch an arm across my chest. I repeat the same movement with my other arm. Tank stands in front of me and mimics my movements with a smirk on this face. He knows he’s annoying, yet it’s cute. Once I’m sure my deltoid muscles are good, I move on to squats. We count together aloud until we reach fifty. I turn away from Tank and stand directly in front of the large mirror. Bending at my waist, I touch my toes, holding the position for a few seconds. A movement just off to the side catches my eye.

  I’m torn between being ecstatic and infuriated to see Ryle sitting on a weight bench behind me. My feelings roll like a thundercloud where he’s concerned. I want to hate him because he’s cocky and arrogant, but the mystery surrounding him lures me helplessly.

  I stay bent, looking between my legs, watching as he focuses on the dumbbell in his hand. He curls his bicep. There’s no strain in his lift. He’s strong. I can’t tell what he’s lifting, but I can imagine it’s a lot by the concentration and determination written across his face. His sex appeal spikes on my radar as I stand still, pathetically counting each set he completes.

  My calves start to ache, causing me to break my line of vision with that perfect male specimen. Unconsciously, I chew on my bottom lip and stare into the mirror, looking past my shoulder. I keep moving my arms, pretending to work them out. Then I feel someone’s fingers moving across my puckered bottom lip. “What are you doing?” I shoot a glare to Tank who now stands in front of me, blocking my view in the mirror.

  “Wiping the drool off your lip.”

  Rolling my eyes, I snort and walk away, trying with all of my might not to look in Ryle’s direction. I see Zoe running on a treadmill and make my way to her. “Where have you been?” I ask, before I set my bag on the ground and step onto a machine of my own.

  “I’ve been on the treadmill for ten minutes. You might have noticed if you weren’t so distracted with him.”

  She doesn’t have to mention his name. I know which him she’s referring to.

  “Don’t act like you haven’t been gawking at Kaiser.” I smile and shoot a glance in his direction, which just so happens to be beside Ryle.

  Caught like a deer in headlights. Smooth.

  Kaiser nods his head at us. Ryle makes eye contact with me and breaks it just as quickly.

  “So how long have you had a crush on him?” I hit the incline button on the screen in front of me and adjust my speed.

  Zoe looks over at me. “A crush? Babe we’re in college. It’s not a crush. I’d bounce on him like a trampoline.”

  “You and your sexual innuendos. They’re frightening,” I confess.

&
nbsp; “Almost as frightening as you and Ryle. Don’t think I don’t notice. I’m pretty sure you tripped and fell into some feelings.”

  My brows pinch together. I’m not sure if it’s from surprise or the sweat that’s forming on my forehead. “How many times am I going to have to say that I don’t like him? I’ve told you and your brother umpteen times. Hell, I even told Kaiser nothing was going on.”

  “Kaiser was curious if you were single?” She sounds hurt.

  “No. No! That’s not at all what I meant.” I hold on to the side of the treadmill for balance and pick up my feet to place them on either side of the machine. The belt continues moves below me. “He asked if we were…you know…if Ryle…” I lean closer toward Zoe and whisper his name almost in shame. “Was putting his D in my V.” My face drains of color as those abbreviations cross my lips.

  “Wow. That’s a ballsy question. Do you think he was prying because he likes you?” Zoe probes. I feel sorry for her. She’s scared that he likes me. This conversation is totally going in the wrong direction here.

  “I’m going to slap you,” I announce.

  “I beg your pardon?” The sassy tone that only she can rock comes out, as she tilts her head and tries to read between the lines.

  “I’ll do it,” I promise.

  I watch as she pulls the emergency plug off her machine. Its movement comes to a halt. “Why would you slap me?” It totally went over her head.

  “To slap some sense into you. After all, that’s what friends are for.”

  “You’re so odd.”

  “And you’re being so ridiculous. He’s not into me. Trust me.”

  “How do you figure?” Her defenses go up again.

  “Well, the fact that he mentioned me and Ryle having some thing going on, means that he knows I’m not into him. Also, he’s been eying you for about five minutes straight.”

  Zoe stills, unsure what to do.

  “Well don’t just stand here, go over there and talk to him.”

  “I…I…shouldn’t,” she stutters. Her cheeks redden.

  “Ugh. You totally should. I came here to live the college experience. So far, there isn’t much going on with me.” She cocks her brow. “Shut up. I don’t like Ryle.” I lie for the zillionth time and say a little prayer asking for forgiveness. “Anyways, let me at least live vicariously through you. One of us should be having fun.”

  “I’ll make you a deal.”

  Oh, snap. This can’t be good.

  “I’ll go over there and talk to Kaiser if you grow a sack and talk to Ryle.”

  I huff. “You drive a hard bargain.” Zoe stays silent, but sticks out her bottom lip, begging me to go with her. “I’ll go under one condition.”

  “State your case.”

  “If he—for one second—acts like a dick, I’m free to walk to away.”

  A triumphant smile spreads across her face.

  “Deal.” She holds out her hand.

  I grab it and shake. “Deal.”

  I follow Zoe’s lead as she slowly makes her way over to where the guys are standing. She looks like she’s stalking her prey. I’m sure we look like a pair of loons.

  Ryle seethed as he watched Tank touch the most delicate set of legs he’d ever laid eyes on. The way his friend’s hand gripped Adaley’s thighs made him swallow hard, wishing more than anything that those were his own hands dancing along her skin.

  Four long minutes he sat, his arms mindlessly lifting weights as his eyes raked in the beauty in front of him. Getting lost in his own reps, Kaiser called him out. “Why don’t you grow a sack and tell her you’re interested?”

  Ryle ignored the comment and switched the dumbbell to his other arm.

  “I’m serious, dude. I can feel the sexual tension rolling off you.”

  Dipping his head slightly, Ryle said, “I can’t. Not with her.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” an ever-nosy Kaiser probed.

  “She doesn’t seem like the type that just wants sex. I can see it in the way she looks at me. She wants more than I’ll ever be willing to give her.” His confession made him inwardly cringe. Speaking the truth about her out loud to someone made it disgustingly real.

  “Buddy,” Ryle’s head turned to the side as Kaiser opened his mouth to speak again. “You’re so wrong. I think she came here looking for a good time. It’s a shame I already got my eye on someone.” He knew what someone Kaiser was talking about. He’d watched his friend drop subtle hints at Zoe since she’d arrived on campus. “Shit. Dude. They’re coming over here.”

  Ryle’s defenses went up quicker than a boxer in the ring.

  “Hey ladies.” Kaiser gives us a guy wave—you know, the way that doesn’t make you look like a creep while waving. The guy wave is more of a two-finger salute in the air.

  “Hi,” Zoe says with a squeak.

  While I haven’t known her long, I know Zoe isn’t the bashful, squeak-when-a-guy-talks-to-her type. She must really have it bad for this dude. I feel her elbow nudge me in the side. “So what are y’all up to?” It’s a ridiculous question. She knows what they’re both up to. We’ve been watching them.

  I’ve officially been crowned with stalker status.

  “Well from the looks of it, we’re in a gym. Take one guess as to what we’ve been doing?” Ryle’s voice is stern, with no hint of humor.

  “Well, this has been a pleasant conversation, but look at the time.” I glance at my wrist, well aware that I’m not wearing a watch. “It’s time for me to start my shift.” I’m pleased at how nonchalant I sound. Take that, fuck-wad. “Zoe, come say bye before you leave.” On that note, I slide away from the triangle of weirdness and make my way to the employee lounge hidden behind a wrap-around desk.

  The room is big. I’m surprised at how much stuff they’ve fit in here. There’s a faux brown leather couch and a small wooden TV stand with one of those big square televisions sitting on top of it. I zero in on the time clock and notice my name written in chicken scratch on a yellow card. Sliding it in the small machine on the wall, red numbers stamp my card. My first day of work, and I clocked in ten minutes early.

  Overachiever. I grin.

  Spinning around, I notice a set of lockers on the far side of the room. My name is written on one in black Sharpie. I pull the latch open to stuff my bag into it, and notice a manila envelope, also with my name on it. Sliding a hand inside, I pull out a name badge. Affixing it to my shirt, I flip through the rest of the contents of the envelope – policies and regulations. I’ll read them later.

  Luckily, there’s an employees-only bathroom by the lockers. I start toward them, but stop in my tracks when a bulletin board catches my eye. Mostly, there are just wage and discrimination notices hanging by thumbtacks, but what draws my attention are a few pictures of Kaiser, Ryle, and some kid. In every image, it’s the same threesome. I wonder who the kid is. Flipping the picture over, it reads, Aaron Harris. We miss you, bro.

  “Didn’t you ever learn not to touch what doesn’t belong to you?”

  I swallow, knowing that I’ve been caught. Quickly, I tack the picture back on the board, careful to make sure I don’t make any new holes on it. I hesitantly turn around as Ryle’s eyes study me. I hope that my face doesn’t betray me as I inhale and try to look like I’m not guilty, although he caught me red-handed. “It’s on a bulletin board. Doesn’t that mean it’s on display for all to see?” His scowl doesn’t change. “I’m sorry. I was just curious.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat.” He spits out, venom in his tone.

  Great. We’re back to this cat and mouse nonsense.

  “Like I said, I’m sorry. I didn’t think anything of it. It’s just a picture.”

  “It’s not just a picture. Not to me.”

  I notice a muscle ticking along his jaw as he leans in closer to me. Hot breath escapes his lips, blowing the tiny hairs that fell out of my ponytail. It tickles the side of my face, and I hold my breath in anticipation. Of what, I have no c
lue.

  “I forgive you,” Ryle whispers huskily into my ear. The sound of his voice causes me to shiver from head to toe. He lightly laughs, an acknowledgement of the effect he has on me. My heart continues to pound like a summer storm as he backs away, leaving me breathless and completely smitten.

  I forget about going to the bathroom.

  For the past two days, I feel like life has literally flown by at warp speed. With school, assignments, work and having fantasies about tackling Ryle like a crack head looking for her next fix, my brain has been on overload. On top of that, it’s Friday and Zoe is dragging me to the baseball field to cheer on our boys in the first home game of the season. Our boys.

  Her words not mine.

  Tank was running on beast mode when I saw him on campus this morning, and then again when I ran into him on his way to the field house. He seemed jittery then, but I could tell he was mentally in the zone, to which I can totally relate. It’s how I used to get before a big meet. I would practice for hours on end, day and night, just to make sure that I knew my routines like the back of my hand. I’d even videotape myself and watch it over and over on a repeated loop looking for any opportunity to advance myself. My dismounts and landings had to be on point and they normally were.

  I feel a sense of sadness wash over me as I let the memories come. I toss on a T-shirt that Zoe loaned me. It has Young ironed on the back, along with Tank’s jersey number in big, bold numbers underneath the name. Just to clarify, I’m not sad because Zoe’s making me go watch “our boys kick some butt,” I’m sad because there will never again be a time where I can invite my friends watch me kick some leotard-wearing butt. It’s moments like this—when reality smacks me in the face—that I am reminded my days of competing in a sport are over. Forever.

  “You’d better cheer up!” Zoe shouts as she playfully shakes a pair of orange and navy pom-poms in the air above her head. “Here,” she says tossing me my own set. “Now get your game face on. We got a game to win.” She says it with such conviction in her voice.