Waters of Lethe, Book 2

31. Mal

The last few days went by fairly quickly.

I tried hard not to think about the Asian.

After normal workouts on Wednesday, I lingered in the gym. I stayed at a punching bag, hitting and kicking it over and over until I thought the skin on my hands and legs would split open and bleed.

"Need extra practice?" I heard from behind me.

I didn't have to turn to see that it was Alex. But I did. He was dressed in the basketball shorts he usually wore at night, along with a white t-shirt. His hair was wet and stood on end from a recent shower.

I cocked my head at him, breathing hard. Something was off.

He pursed his lips. "It's nine at night, dear," he said with a chuckle.

I put my hands on my hips. "Then why are you down here?"

He shrugged. "Taking a nightly stroll. Inspecting the gym floors. Looking for you."

"You found me," I told him, turning back to the punching bag, my poor, poor victim.

Punch. Punch. Kick.

"Can I ask why I found you here?"

"No." Punch.

I hit the bag ten more times before I had to turn to him, annoyance evident in my posture. My hands went back to my hips and my chest puffed out slightly.

I turned because he hadn't said anything. When I saw him, he had his arms crossed over his chest. Staring at me.

I knew it wouldn't have done any good to ask him what the hell he was doing, so I did the most mature, obvious thing anyone should have done. I stared back.

I copied him, crossing my arms over my chest. I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping that he wouldn't stubbornly fall farther than me and egg on the staring contest. Neither of us liked to lose.

I threw my hands up. "Okay!" I yelled at him, though he was five feet from me. He smiled. "I'm here because I—"

I'm here because I know that if I close my eyes, he'll be staring back at me. Or running in front of me. Or talking to me about something I don't remember.

"—I'm here because I can't sleep. I'm too damn excited for this assignment. Can't you tell?" I asked, putting on my best, biggest smile. Alex raised his eyebrows. He'd caught my mistake, how I'd changed the reason I was here at the last second.

"Talk to me," he told me.

"No, thanks."

"Then fight me."

"I'm good with this punching bag. I mentally place the faces of people I don't like on the bag. It helps."

Alex laughed, walking closer. "Whose face?"

Don't buy into it, El. Don't buy into it.

I bought into it. I had to. "Yours."

"Why imagine punching my face when you can really actually punch it? I mean, when you can have a chance at really punching it. But let's be real. You aren't that fast."

I turned to him and pointed a finger in his face. "Oh, you're going to regret that."

He leaned in close, his mouth inches from mine. "Bring it on."

I followed him to the middle of the gym floor, watching him in disbelief as he took his shirt off. "Will this be a problem?" he joked.

I stopped following him. It was almost as if reality was pulled from in front of me, replaced with a blurred scene, one that wasn't bright. I was cuddled under blankets, teetering on the fuzzy edge of sleep. I watched the Asian guy from my memories walk out of the bathroom in front of the bed I was in. Somehow, I knew that he went into the bathroom with a shirt on. He came back out shirtless.