Eleven

　　Someone—I believe it’s Ben clears his throat, I jump to my feet and Asher’s palm slips into mine. Ben’s eyes lower to our linked hands, I smile at the realisation he’s wearing the same grey sweatpants as me. Unlike me, he didn’t need to roll the waistband of his about a hundred times for it to fit his waist.

　　Water coats Ben’s forehead, rolling down his temples. I steal another peek at him. Did my smell affect him so bad he had to take a shower? My breath catches in my throat when he lifts the hem of his tank top to wipe his face, I release Asher’s hand to fan myself because the place becomes too hot.

　　Who turned up the heat?

　　That V line. Does he sleep in the gym? I also workout but I only have a flat tummy. I swoon at the sight of his sexy body, wetting my lips at his abs. He has eight fucking packs, I thought the normal number was six. How did I not notice all of this during our fight? Right, I was busy trying not to get beaten to a pulp.

　　“Pick it up,” Ben whispers.