Page 33 of Gym With Benefits

The digital gate swung open, and Susan Jeffries was officially a silent witness to the glossy perfection of Amberleigh’s life. The screen glowed with the blue-white saturation of the Mediterranean. Amberleigh stood on the deck of a yacht, her skin bronzed to a polished honey, a glass of something sparkling in her hand. The caption was a string of hashtags about blessed lives and sun-kissed memories.

My stomach curdled. I was a ghost in a basement while the woman who had gutted my life was sailing toward a sunset I’d only dreamed of.

"Wow," Walter muttered, looming over me until the heat of his shoulder pressed against mine. "The bride is a ten. And that yacht. Greece? I’ve been trying to justify a trip to Mykonos for three years."

I scrolled down, my thumb trembling on the trackpad. There, in the comments of a photo from a pre-wedding brunch, was the profile picture I’d spent a lifetime trying to forget. Carter. He’dliked the photo. He’d commented something sweet with a heart emoji. She’d replied.

They were still in touch. The betrayal wasn't a static event in the past; it was a living, breathing circle of friends that didn't include me. I was the casualty, the inconvenient history tucked away in the archives while they toasted to the future.

"Look at the architecture in the background of that shot," Walter was still going on, oblivious to the wrecking ball swinging through my chest. "The white-wash against the volcanic rock. It’s a masterpiece."

I slammed the laptop shut. "This was a mistake. A monumentally bad idea."

The buzz of my phone on the desk interrupted the spiral. A text from Marcus, my supervisor, appeared on the lock screen:Why aren't you in your office?

"Office," I muttered, gathering my things. "He calls that damp hole an office."

“Find what you were looking for?”

I glared at the closed laptop on Walter’s desk and sighed. “I think it’s time I stop looking.”

I retreated to the basement, but my sanctuary didn’t feel the way it was supposed to. I stared at Constance’s letters, at the ink where she’d poured out her longing for ‘R’, and all I could see were the pixels of a yacht in Greece. It was a cosmic injustice. Amberleigh had been the architect of a catastrophe, yet she lived a life of high-profile parties and international travel. Consequences were a myth told to keep the good people in line.

I tried to focus on the cataloging, but all I could think about was Carter’s heart emoji and Brock’s hands all over me in the shower. The discipline of the museum was gone. I was a raw nerve, exposed and twitching.

By four, I gave up trying. No amount of historical preservation was going to save me from the noise in my head.

I emerged from the Smithsonian into the humid D.C. air, the sun beginning to dip behind the monuments. But I didn't go home to my quiet apartment. My body made the decision before my brain could veto it.

The glass doors of Capitol Fitness hissed open, the familiar roar of the cardio deck and the metallic bite of the weights hitting me square in the face. I told myself it was for the endorphins. I told myself I needed to sweat out the resentment.

Hunter was behind the front desk, his eyes sharp and unblinking as they locked onto mine.

"Don't say anything," he said. "Just take off your clothes."

12

Jess

The pool room was filled with the chemical bite of chlorine and the flat, mineral dampness of stone. The turquoise water sat as a still, glassy plane until Hunter cut through it, his movements silent and precise. I stood on the edge in a generic black one-piece catered for by a generous membership perk, feeling the cool draft from the vents hit the backs of my thighs.

Hunter surfaced at the edge, slicking his hair back with both hands. His eyes were bright and welcoming. "The water's perfect. Forget the weights today. You need buoyancy."

I slid in, the heat of the pool rising to meet me. The transition from the dry, abrasive stress of the museum to this weightless suspension made my lungs expand. Hunter didn't move away. He stayed within arm's reach, the water rippling between our chests.

"About the other night," I said. The words felt clumsy, bobbing like debris in the quiet room.

Hunter tilted his head, his expression a blank slate of polite confusion. "The gym was busy. I remember a lot of nights, Jess."

"The shower, Hunter. You walked in. You saw us."

He let out a short, huffing laugh, his shoulders rising above the surface. The water beaded on his skin, catching the overhead lights. "I saw two people who looked like they were finally solving a very loud problem. I told you, I’m a counseling student. I deal in human impulses. If nobody is getting hurt, then what’s the harm?"

He reached out, his hand submerged. I felt his palm brush against my waist, a ghost of a touch through the water that sent a different kind of heat through my core.

"Face down," he directed. "Show me the freestyle. Careful not to over-rotate."

I pushed off, the water rushing past my ears. I focused on the blue tiles at the bottom, but my skin was hyper-aware of where he was. Every time I turned my head to breathe, he was there, pacing me from the side. When I reached the wall, he was waiting. He reached out and caught my wrists, stopping my momentum.