We head down the hall toward the weight rooms. She stops outside of the basketball team’s private gym. After last year’s national championship win, they did some renovations on an unused indoor tennis court area to give us our own workout room. The other teams share so it’s a definite perk.

“I see. I’m just the key to the good weight room. We’re working out, for real?”

She nods and flashes an innocent smile. “Well, we could go to the other workout room if you want to slum it with me.”

A rough chuckle fills my chest, and I press my thumb to the keypad entry.

“Fancy,” she mocks when it beeps us in.

No one else is here, as I expected, but I doubt they’d balk at Chloe being here anyway.

“Wow,” she says as she walks into the center of the room.

“Don’t walk over Ray,” I tell her as her feet get dangerously close to stepping on our beloved mascot in the center of the floor. “It’s four years of bad luck.”

She smirks. “Superstitious much?”

“Just not willing to risk it. We’ve got one in the locker room, too. You step on him and it’s seven seasons of shit.”

The way we’re looking in practice right now, I’m not convinced someone hasn’t been stomping on him every chance they get.

“So, now what?”

She turns to face me, hands on hips. “It’s leg day.”

I quirk a brow, but she’s all business as she steps onto the treadmill and presses go. She takes the speed to a light jog. I watch as she warms up. She invited me along so I’m guessing she isn’t opposed to that. And damn, it’d be hard to look away.

She looks over her shoulder. “You gonna work out with me or just stare at my ass the whole time?”

I take the treadmill beside her. “Both. I’m good at multi-tasking.”

After five minutes of jogging, she takes off doing walking lunges across the room. I step in behind her, keeping my promise and working out while I continue to check her out.

She seems to have a whole routine because she goes right into each one with barely a second to let me catch my breath: bear crawl, side shuffle, high skips, wall sits.

I’m in good shape. When I can’t sleep, I exercise to pass the hours, so my endurance is awesome, but Chloe is making me sweat to keep up with her.

Thirty minutes have passed before she finally looks to me, face red with exertion and eyes ablaze with excitement, and says, “Ready to work out?”

Dafuq we been doing? That’s what I think, but instead, I just wave my hand in front of me for her to lead the way.