The air was still crisp. I had slipped on a sweatshirt over my T-shirt and jean shorts, and shivering, I tugged the zipper up. It went up the side, all the way to my neck. I’d thought it was cute and trendy when I bought it, but it pinched my skin now, and I cringed. Oh well. I liked how it looked, so I was keeping it, even if it made me bleed.

I opened the cage, put Forster’s ball up on the rack since I’d left it on the floor, and grabbed the list of inventory.

I started going through everything, but I was yawning so hard that it was making me tear up by the time I got to the relay equipment. That was three minutes later.

I needed coffee. I didn’t care how distrustful Keith was. I was going to leave the courts unlocked (gasp, then hiss), and I was going to get coffee in the main lobby.

Putting a few basketballs outside the cage door, just in case someone showed up, I headed out. The cage was locked up. My bag was with it, hidden in the back with the hockey sticks, and I was just leaving through the back door when I more sensed them than saw them.

Reese Forster and Juan Cartion were jogging down the walking path.

All in gray, Reese had his hood up and head down, with sweatpants hanging low from his narrow hips. They ended around his calves. His shoes were neon yellow—the entire shoe, even his laces.

As the path broke out from the trees, Juan’s head was up, and his eyes met mine.

They weren’t anywhere close to me, but I still stepped back. My back hit the building behind me, and I stayed put, almost the exact same posture I’d taken last night when Forster brought his ball back to the cage.

Like last time, he never looked up.

He and his best friend ran right past me, going around to the front of the gym building and turning down the path that’d take them to the lake.

I’d swear I saw some amusement in Juan Cartion’s gaze, but I wasn’t sure, and after waiting another few seconds—as if they were going to magically run back—I smoothed a hand over my shirt. My heart was beating so fast.

This was ridiculous.

I couldn’t keep almost having a heart attack every time I saw these guys. They were campers. I was staff.

Three weeks, or more like two and a half weeks.

I was on day two and almost pissing my pants at just the thought of seeing Reese Forster.

I needed a trick. Something to help me calm down.

I needed to think of him naked.

My pulse skyrocketed.

Yeah. That wasn’t going to help.

I needed to... I went through some ideas.

Maybe I could just focus on his penis.