I snorted. “Yeah. You use it anywhere on campus that honors meal plans.”
A burst of shouts snatched my attention. My guys were marching down the hall in one line toward the exit for the field. Al’s big ass led the way and while chanting, he made sure to growl and gesture a ferine bite to Tori before continuing to the door.
Laughing at his stupid ass, I turned to Tori. “You good?” She nodded while rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna shower before this Research in Statistics class, and I’ll meet you back here around 1:15 for a massage.” I backed away, keeping in mind the time. “I’ll have you scheduled.”
Tori performed the faintest nod before I took off.
6
-Then-
As I left class, confused as hell about complex compounds, I stopped at the opening of the entrance of the science building.
“Yo, sir?” The call got my attention, weird enough. I rolled my eyes when I saw Al strolling past with his arm around a girl whose head he held close to his. “Spencer’s looking for you in the gym.”
My face tightened, confused. Didn’t I tell him I had class? Why would he be looking for me? We’d worked out already for the day.
“I just left him after showers.” Al barked back, not breaking his stride with the girl.
I sighed, hoping this wasn’t what I had to look forward to now that I’d only agreed to working out with him. Something I hadn’t exactly committed to, but was feeling out since he seemed to be trying to be nice. I didn’t trust these Blakewood humans. A little annoyed, I took the campus jitney to the athletic compound. Once there, I headed straight to the main gym. I didn’t see Ashton. Thinking of where he could be, I left for the hallway. Then I remembered Al mentioning the showers.
I’m not going in there!
“Hey, McNabb,” Dre called me, coming from the opposite direction. His curly fade tilted as he looked to be dialing into his cellphone. “Spence looking for you. He’s in the massage room.”
I stopped in my tracks. That helps a lot…I rolled my eyes. How did he expect to “get” me if he was in there?
I didn’t realize Dre had stopped until he mentioned, “You can go ahead to Room B in the spa wing. He said just knock.” He spoke without looking at me and walked off.
I tried remembering exactly where the spa wing was. I didn’t recall much from my tour here when I first moved in. Only the main gym and locker room. Damn, this place is too big! The athletic facility at BSU was bigger than my damn regional high school in Bridgeton! Moving toward the back of the main room, I saw a directory. After locating the massage wing, I took up the stairs to the third floor. It was quiet up here, mostly suits passing me by in the halls, but not many.
It took a short time to find Room B once in the right corridor. My palms were soaked when I tried to ball one into a fist and knock on the door softly.
“It’s open!”
I jumped at that like a damn fool. I tried catching my breath before pushing the door open. Ashton was face down on the massage table with just his boxers on while a guy I’d seen around the complex was kneading into his shoulder.
“Oh…” He hesitated. “Hi.”
Ashton lifted his head and his eyes found me. He looked…tired. “I thought you were supposed to meet me here at 1:15 for the massage.”
My eyes raced to the walls where, on one, I found a digital clock. It was 2:02.
“I had class.” My mouth was parched, tongue heavy.
“You didn’t mention that. I had a session set up for you, but didn’t know if you prefer a masseuse or masseur.”
He looked at me like he was expecting an answer. I had no idea about the difference between a masseuse or masseur, so I shrugged. “I ‘on’t know.” My words fell too softly.
Like a punk...
Like… Somebody touching me all over as the guy was doing to Ashton? Hell no! Somebody I didn’t know or trust on something other than my hands or lower arms? Nah… My body began to tremble lowly. I was low key freaking the hell out.
His forehead stretched. “You don’t know?”
I reached back for the door handle and shook my head. “I don’t need a massage. I gotta catch my next class.” Ashton didn’t say anything, and the guy massaging him slowed and gaped at me like I rode the damn short yellow bus, too. “I’ll see you on the track in the morning.”
I left and closed the door behind me without another word. I didn’t want to be touched.
By any-fucking-one.
Working out twice today didn’t seem like a good idea when I was just about limping into the building of my dorm. My trainer, Luke, with his assistant, Tyrone, was ready for my ass promptly at 6:15, when we were scheduled to box. In between going over boxing techniques, Tyrone had me working out. Once again, they brought me some work I didn’t think I’d get through, but I did. The last set of pushups, lunges, squats, and footwork drills took me out.
Right after the gym, I wobbled over to the cafeteria for dinner to-go and came straight to my dorm. I couldn’t wait for my shower and to put my feet up while I devoured the T-bone steak, fresh mashed potatoes, and string beans I found out would be my dinner. Each meal was a surprise for me now, thanks to that nutritionist.
As soon as I stepped through the lobby door, the elevator dinged. Andrea and ShawnNicole stepped out, dressed to the nines in heels and mini dresses. Bright red and pink lips with bouncy, glistening hair. Andrea’s long boxed braids were styled into a neat bow at the crown of her head. ShawnNicole’s thick, dark natural curls spilled into her face and covered her shoulders. Nope. I didn’t fit in at Blakewood at all. Not even the best from my hometown looked so polished when cleaned up.
Shit…
I kept a steady pace to catch their elevator.
“Hey, McNabb. Right?” the guard behind the security booth asked loud enough to get my attention. My head whipped over to him as the clench on my bagged dinner tightened. I nodded, eyes flicking between him and the glam girls passing me. Well, they were until my name was called. “You’ve got a delivery that needs to be signed for.”
With every sore muscle in my body, I turned to my left for the desk. Had my mother finally sent me the money? Was it an apology for abandoning me from Cut? A care package from Ragee? Curiosity took over and I quickly signed, and was handed a box. Beyond anxious, I ripped it open to find a fancy gold metallic box. Inside were two brand new pairs of sneakers; one white and the other black. They had to be from Cut. He was cheap as fuck, but never as cold as he’d been when abandoning me.
Is he congratulating me for not quitting?
“Holy fuck!” was breathed behind me. I whipped around at the same time Andrea cried, “The DMP Jordan 6s!”
The sneakers were clearly Jordans, but I didn’t notice which ones right away. They were the limited edition my friends at home had been yapping about all year. My jaw dropped. Uppercut couldn’t afford this. He didn’t have money like that. Moving the boxes aside to separate them, I found a card inside.
Again, my bad.
Plus, your old ones smell like garlic roasted shit, in case nobody’s told you.
P.S. Had to call in a favor for your shoe size. It better be right.