Summertime Loving

Time slipped by, and soon it was time for gym class. Travis, always the first to change, was already out on the field, stretching and warming up before anyone else had even laced their sneakers. The afternoon sun cast a warm glow across the track, and he could feel the energy in his muscles, ready for whatever workout was planned.

Coach Bridget spotted him from across the field and strode over, her stride confident. She laid an arm over his shoulder, her height making the position slightly awkward as she reached up to rest her hand there. But her gaze was steady, and there was something mischievous in her smile.

"Remember, Travis," she murmured, letting her fingers linger, "if you ever need help with… your issue, I'm always available, okay?"

A smirk crept onto his face as he slid his hand around her waist, fingers pressing lightly. "You can call me anytime too, Coach. If you're ever feeling stressed, I could help you unwind in a second."

She chuckled, her hand giving his shoulder a squeeze as she leaned in just a bit closer. "Oh, is that so? Guess I'll have to rely on you more, then… Champ."

For a moment, they held each other's gaze, a charged silence hanging between them before she finally pulled back, giving him a playful swat on the arm before walking off, leaving him alone on the field with a grin tugging at his lips.

As more of the class arrived, the exercises officially began. Travis, feeling competitive, took off at a steady but swift pace. He wanted to stay in the lead, especially with Rhonda eyeing him from behind, determined not to let her pass him. Lap after lap, he pushed forward, his breaths steady as he made each stride count. After a solid half hour of running, stretches, and various drills, the whistle blew, signaling the end of class—and the school day.

Eager to keep his next "appointment," Travis quickly made his way back to the locker room. Just as he was about to enter, he was met by Missy and Rebecca, who were casually blocking the entrance to the showers. Both had their arms crossed, smirks on their faces as they leaned against the doorway.

He sighed, muttering to himself, "Just my luck… gotta deal with them now?"

Without breaking his stride, he stripped off his gym clothes, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist before approaching the showers. The two girls watched, their expressions shifting as he came closer, clearly not intending to let him pass easily.

"Hey, ladies, just gonna slip by real quick," he said, trying to sidestep them.

Missy stepped forward, her hand pressing firmly against his chest, stopping him mid-step. "You can't, Travis," she replied, her voice laced with a teasing edge.

"Roxxy's in there right now," she added, eyes fixed on his chest as her hand slowly traced down his collarbone, lingering a bit longer than necessary.

Rebecca rolled her eyes, crossing her arms even tighter as she moved in front of him, spreading her arms wide like a gate. She didn't say a word, but her stance made it clear—no entry allowed.

Travis exhaled, casting them both an exasperated look before taking matters into his own hands. With a swift, easy motion, he lifted both Missy and Rebecca, setting them down gently but firmly behind him. The girls let out surprised gasps as he moved past them, completely unfazed.

Ignoring their stunned expressions, he walked confidently into the showers, the sound of the water masking the chuckles he couldn't quite hold back.

As Travis stepped into the shower, he found himself face-to-face with Roxxy, her bare skin glistening under the steady stream of water cascading down her body. Her wet hair clung to her shoulders, framing her face and accentuating her sharp, captivating features. For a moment, he paused, his gaze traveling down her form, appreciating the sight in silence before he turned and began washing himself.

The sound of his shower startled Roxxy, who glanced over her shoulder and froze. There he was, standing under the water like he belonged in a cologne ad, droplets sliding over the defined lines of his body. She couldn't look away, her heart pounding as she took in every detail. Heat crept up her face, and she quickly faced forward again, feeling flustered but unable to erase the image from her mind.

Damn, this nerd is so hot! Why, though? she thought, cheeks flushed, stealing another glance over her shoulder despite herself.

As she tried to focus on her own shower, her mind kept drifting back to him, his toned arms, the way his muscles flexed with every movement. She scowled, frustrated with herself but helpless against her own curiosity.

' I freaking hate him, ' she thought, biting her lip. ' But I won't deny his looks, honestly. Maybe I could use him for that French test… ' She paused, shaking her head as if to clear it. ' Nah, I'll try someone else. '

With one last, reluctant glance, Roxxy grabbed her towel, gathering her things as she stepped out of the shower, leaving Travis to enjoy the warm spray alone, unaware of the effect he'd had on her.

' Damn why was she looking so hard' he thought.

As Roxxy stepped out of the shower area, she quickly noticed that Missy and Rebecca had disappeared, leaving their "guard post" completely abandoned.

' Those idiots! I told them to keep guard, and they just up and left?' she fumed internally, irritation flaring as she tugged her clothes on, skipping any part of her usual post-shower routine. She was too frustrated to care about moisturizing; revenge was all she could think about now.

When she stepped into the hall, she saw a few girls lingering by the shower entrance, waiting for their turn. A sly smirk crept across her face as an idea struck her.

' Perfect. Let's see how Travis deals with this, ' she thought, stifling a laugh as she strutted away, feeling vindicated.

Back in the showers, Travis heard footsteps and chatter echoing into the tiled room, followed by the unmistakable sound of giggling. He sighed, realizing that more girls had entered. Still wrapped in his towel, he didn't bother to hide or retreat, instead confidently grabbing his towel to dry off.

As he began to dress, each of the girls froze, their eyes glued to him, unable to resist stealing glances at the lean, defined lines of his frame. None of them spoke, too captivated—or maybe too stunned—to interrupt. The usual locker room chatter faded to an awestruck silence as he casually buttoned up his shirt and slipped on his shoes.

' Damn, is this how women feel when they catch people staring?' he mused, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

TO BE CONTINUED