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“T,” he cries. “What’s up?”

“Don’t you what’s up me. Why are you here?”

“Getting swole.” He flexes, showing off his tattooed, bulging biceps. “Did you see that? Personal record.”

My eyes dart to the unholy amount of weights on the bar. I grab him by the forearm and drag him away from the others. “I know you have your own training gym at the arena. What the hell are you doing in the campus gym with the normies?”

“Thought I’d check out the facilities. See what my tuition is paying for.” He jerks his thumb at the Wannabes. “Those guys are great.”

I glare at him.

“What?”

“You’re on an athletic scholarship. You’re not paying tuition.”

“Oh, true.” He rubs the back of his neck. “For the record, this isn’t the first time I’ve been here. Sometimes I like to work out without the pressure of the team and just let loose. Test myself.”

“By pressure, you mean Reese.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. Everything’s so intense with him, you know?”

Reese is definitely intense. It’s a vibe that guys like him have–the team leaders. The ones headed for the pros. Fromeverything I’ve seen and heard, Axel has the skills, but he may not have that same drive.

“Yo, Ax, come check this out before I post it,” one of the guys calls, holding up the phone.

He doesn’t move, hovering in that way that makes me acutely aware of everything about him. The tattoos, the muscles, the shiny piercings in his lip and eyebrow. The sweat.

He should smell terrible, but fuck me, all I’m getting is the strong scent of man.

I swallow and look around at the weights scattered all over the floor. “Make sure you put those back.” I point to the sign over the rack holding the weight that asks people to return their weights to the rack after use. “We don’t have a crew that comes along behind you to clean everything up like you do in the arena, and some of those are too heavy for the staff to pick up.”

“Gotcha, T. We’ll get it all cleaned up before we go.”

I want to say more. To ask if he’s here because he knew I was working, but that’s foolish. He seems familiar with the gym and his reasoning makes sense. I get the need to have a little pressure taken off occasionally.

“Hey man, that was amazing.” I turn and see Eric and his friends entering the area.

“Thanks,” Axel says, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt.

Eric gives me a friendly smile and I hold my hand up in a small wave. They pass by, headed to a different section.

When I look back at Axel, his eyebrow is raised. “Know him?”

“My project partner in communications.”

He nods, eyes following Eric across the gym. Behind him, I see Brian waving, trying to get my attention. The maintenance guy is here. “I need to get back to work.”

“I guess I need to get back to getting jacked.”

“God, you’re the worst.” I roll my eyes, but the smugness of his statement is cut by a wink and a quick grin.

The hardest part, I think, walking across the gym, is that Axel Rakestraw is definitely not the worst. And we both know it.

8

Axel

It’sthe giggling that gets me. Soft and flirty–a specific tone from a girl when she’s into you. It echoes off the high ceilings of the Manor, taunting me from my roommates’ bedrooms.