A Dangerous Game | N.H [under construction]

| Chapter Twenty Six |

I stood infront of the gym building, as hesitant thoughts courses through me. It's not too late to turn back and leave. Maybe I should just go home and pretend I never saw Grants text? Or say my phone died and I'm visiting my parents? I mean, I could lie. But then again, I hate that I'm growing so used to that. I shouldn't be resulting to lying to anyone, it's wrong.

My fingers tapped my hot coffee in slight anticipation, chewing the inside of my lip. A part of me wanted to say "Fuck it." And leave, but another part didn't want to anger Grant even more. I rejected him last night, and if I did it again, who knows what he might do. I sure as hell am not willing to find out.

Another small thought blinked in my mind, one that made my skin quiver and my hands start to sweat, what if Niall was there?

I knew at some point I would have to face him again, whether it be ambushed in a parking lot, at my apartment or here at the gym. I hated to think about that helpless feeling invading my body when I was trapped in between his arms and underneath his intense blue eyed gaze.

Even the memories of his touch made me want to cringe, more because a tiny (twisted) part of me actually enjoyed it. But the worst of it all would be having Niall and Grant in the same room at the same time — especially imaging Nialls smug look if he ever opened his mouth about my mistakes with the Irish asshole. That's one thought I dreaded the most. And one I prayed I never had to experience.

I took a deep breath, walking into the gym ready to face the rath of Grant Trevino one way or another.

❖

"You going in?" Abe asked playfully after minutes of complete silence, knocking me out of a small trance.

I realized I was standing infront of the door that lead to where Grant would be, with my hand shakily on the door knob frozen as if I was in the mannequin challenge.

I cleared my throat, directing my eyes to him with a forced smile. "Yeah, just preparing myself for the smell of sweaty men." I teased and he chuckled.

"Thought you would have been used to that by now."

I shrugged half heartedly. "So did I." I mutter, not talking about the men's smell at all, finally prying the door open. My ears filled with grunts of men as they trained. Some men boxed, their fists coming in contact with leather of the punching bags, the chains racking back and forth. Others were working on body building, tugging weights up to their chests, sweat glistening on their skins.