the drawer that held all my gym shirts, most with the sleeves long ago ripped off.
Without fail, I wore one of those shirts when working out.
Would she notice if I didn't? It wasn't as if we were at the actual gym, where I'd look like a giant douchebag for strutting around in only shorts. Yeah, I worked my ass off on my body, and I was proud of it, not just as a by-product of an education built around studying the muscles and ligaments and pieces that crafted the body into a flawless working machine, but because working out was an excellent outlet for unspent sexual frustration.
Just once, I wanted to know what would happen if she came through the door and saw me like this. If her eyes lingered on me the way I tried to keep mine from lingering on her.
When she wasn't looking, I'd study the curve of her neck and the slope of her shoulder. The way she danced in her chair when the music was on and she thought no one was looking. The graceful length of her fingers, and the shift of muscles in her arms when she moved.
There were so many small, seemingly insignificant parts of Jocelyn that I had memorized. She'd spent all morning with PT guy. Did he see the same things? Did she?
Was she looking at his neck and hands and arms and the way he smiled in the same way I looked at her?
My hands tightened on the lid of the blender when I thought about it.
I was shaking the appliance a bit too hard after it stuttered on a chunk of ice when she came up behind me, pinching my side.
"Son of a bitch," I yelled, jumping backward and yanking the top off the blender as I did. Blueberry-banana shake exploded everywhere.
Joss was bent at the waist, laughing as I punched the button to turn off the blender. Her peals of laughter might have been more infectious had my face not been coated in cold-ass purple liquid.
"Oh my gosh, Levi." She giggled, wiping a tiny speck off her cheek. "You should see yourself right now."
The only other place she had a spot was on her arm, which she lifted and licked off. My eyes narrowed at the flash of her pink tongue.
The cold liquid dripped down the front of my chest, and I swiped at it with a towel, glaring about as effectively as I could when my face was covered in goop. "You think this is funny?"
In answer, she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. "There. My new lock screen."
Slowly, methodically, I mopped up as much as I could with the dish towel, then turned to her with a grin. "Is that so?"
She lowered her phone. "Don't you dare."
"What?" I asked, eyes wide. "This is your smoothie. I'd hate to keep it from you."
Joss started pushing her chair backward. "Levi Robert Buchanan," she warned as I advanced on her.
The speed with which she was able to pivot her chair always impressed me, but I was also ready for it. I leaped forward as she made the corner around the island and grabbed the back of her chair with one hand, which made her squeal.
Hunching over her for maximum surface coverage, I wiped the towel across her face and neck.
When her face was just as blueberry-banana soaked as mine, and I was laughing as breathlessly as she was, I finally took pity on her and straightened.
Joss turned her chair, wrapping one arm around her waist like she'd be able to contain the graceless sounds coming out of her mouth.
I never wanted them to stop.
With a smile so wide and bright, I couldn't even be sad about how she'd pinched her eyes shut and hid that perfect shade of blue from my view.
"It's so cold," she shrieked. Wiping at her cheeks, she only succeeded in spreading it farther up her face and into her pulled-back hair.
When I could breathe a bit more easily, I yanked off some paper towel, ran it under the faucet to get it wet and then crouched in front of her.
As I carefully wiped off her face, she was still grinning, but I felt my smile melt away.
There were so few opportunities for me to touch her like this. My thumb tilted her chin to the side so I could wipe off her cheek, the bottom curve of her delicate jawline. Underneath that one finger, her skin was soft and warm.
The tips of