“You want me to get your back?”
I knew I could say no. I had crossed a line, one I hadn’t even known existed, and there was no going back. Way lower. But deep down, I knew I’d crossed a line. Never mind that I was built more like a stick figure than a Spartan. This doesn’t mean anything, I told myself. The steam had started to fade, replaced by the hum of water and occasional shouts from across the locker room. He was built, like he’d been carved out of marble. He walked away, towel slung low, big frame relaxed like none of this was out of the ordinary. “Relax,” he said, his tone calm, almost soothing. The biggest senior on the team—Jake, the one guy everybody seemed to know—stepped up right next to me. I really liked it. The showers were the real kicker. When he found my most private entrance, he pushed in, and I saw stars. His hands were everywhere, exploring, asserting dominance over my body in a way that should have terrified me but instead left me craving more.
