You hated this gym. It was loud and whenever you tried to open a window the weird old man closed it within mere seconds. All you wanted to do was take a shower and get the hell out of here.
So, grabbing your towel from the treadmill, you gave the old man a last suspicious look (seriously, why was he even there? All he did was close the windows and not use anything after trying to figure out how to use them. He was super fucking weird) and made your way to the changing room.
As you entered the room you considered if you really should take a shower here. What if the weird old man came in here? Who knows what else was weird about him, you sure didn´t want to find out. As for the moment, there was no one else in there, so at least no other weirdo would gawk at you if you took a five-second-shower. Your friends had invited you to dinner later and you really didn´t want to spend the rest of your evening and night bathed in your own sweat.
Okay, just get wet, lather real, real quick and wash it off. You could do that in a minute. Throwing the door a last look you pulled down your pants, stepped into your slippers and hurried into the shower. Just as you were turning off the shower you heard the door of the locker room close and prayed that it wasn´t the weird old man.
Who you saw instead when leaving the shower was a tall, broad, gorgeous man with a soft smile and softer eyes. You walked to your own pile of clothes next to where he was throwing his own onto the bench as he undressed. You had to force yourself not to gawk at his muscular upper body or strong thighs as he got ready for the shower. You didn´t want to be his old weird man.
Hurriedly you pulled up your trousers so that you would be out of here before he was done. As much as you would love to see that strong body still damp from the shower you were sure you wouldn´t be able to hide your attraction. So you shoved your stuff into your bag. Not paying any attention to how it would wrinkle and grabbed your shit from the bench to put it on.
You didn´t dare to look back as you made your way out of the gym. Just as you reached the door you caught a glance of your reflection in the glass door you realized that you probably just did the most embarrassing thing of your life. This wasn´t your shirt. This wasn´t your shirt at all. This shirt had to Mr. Handsome´s.
Now, you had two opportunities: Leaving with his shirt and basically stealing him or going into the locker room and giving it back. Maybe he wasn´t even done showering and won´t even notice you. Of course that wouldn´t be the case, the universe obviously wasn´t on your side today but well.. you could try. Stealing from Mr. Gorgeous wasn´t really what you were feeling like doing today. Today you were the responsible adult which – obviously – totally sucked.
Peeking through the door you stepped inside as quietly as you possibly could without seeming like a stalker. Just as you made your way towards the bench he stepped out of the shower room. Mentally cursing yourself for going back and not just running away with his shirt (that smelled really nice by they way, a weird mix of sweat and expensive cologne) but deciding to give it back. His eyes darted from you to the door back to you as a shit-eating grin started to form on his face. “Did you –“ He pointed at your upper body, his grin widening even more. (Why did he look so handsome doing that?) Involuntarily, you looked down at yourself, knowing what was there to see.
“I swear, I didn´t mean to, it´s just, I – I mean, I was in a rush and not – “
“Hey, ´s alright,” he said, drying of his hair and continuing his walk to the bench. “Looks kinda nice on you.” There was his grin again, but different this time. Was he flirting with you?
Dumbfolded you just stood there, only now realizing that he was nearly naked, the only thing covering his body a towel placed low on his hips. You tried not to stare but it was probably too late, there was no way he didn´t realize you gaze. How did you manage to make this situation even worse than it already was?
You were so caught up in your own mind that you didn´t realize that he had made his way to you, a ripped piece of paper in his hand. “If you wanna give it back to me one day, gimme a call.” You didn´t even know how your hand found its way to his, but somehow it managed to grab the paper by itself, the only response your head could muster was a nod.
“Well, if you were in such a rush, I suppose you go wherever you were headed to.”
“Right,” you ran a hand through your hair, trying to muster a appropriate response. “Well, yeah I´m.. I´ll get going;” was the best thing you could come up with.
Only when you were seated in your car you calmed down your breathing enough to take a look at the paper he had given you. Underneath a phone number there was scribbled:
You don´t have to give it back, but I´d like to take it off you anyway.
Sam