-Bennett-

"I don't want to talk about it." I grabbed the ice pack from Jonah's hand and carefully pressed it against my sprained ankle, sighing out as the coolness soothed some of the ache. I hoped that'd be enough to deter him, but I could feel the curiosity seeping from him in waves. "Thanks for the help, though," I offered softly while glancing down at the angry, red swelling blossoming along my flesh.

Hopefully, it'd heal quickly.

Jonah nodded his head, exhaling a tired sigh before sitting down on the side of the bench that Riley hadn't already taken over; she'd found us while we were trying to sneak through the lobby and decided to tag along.

We were currently hiding out in the staff's locker room, huddled by the freezer where we kept the ice packs, all the way near the back of the room. "You still look a bit shaken up; is that why we had to use the emergency exit?"

I sighed, contemplating threatening him into some semblance of silent compliance before realizing how amused they both seemed by the whole ordeal. "Hey, he told you to stop asking," Riley scolded while half-heartedly smacking the back of Jonah's head, even if she did proceed to turn and look at me with wide, equally expectant eyes.

"It was just an accident, alright? No big deal," I assured them, even if I couldn't help but occasionally glance at the door, waiting to see if that bitter, old man had made a complaint against me.

I half-expected Marissa to burst through that door and yell at me as well. I'd even made Jonah grab my backpack from my locker in case I needed to flee at a moment's notice.

"I assumed he was just overreacting," Riley replied encouragingly.

I frowned, nervously glancing between them. "Uh—so, you guys know, then?" Crap. Maybe the old man had reported the incident already. Jonah nodded his head in agreement, though he seemed rather taken aback by what Riley said.

Riley laughed nervously. "Well, he came to complain to me after you got away from him. I tried to deescalate the situation before anyone else got involved, but he was really upset."

Damn it. There was no way Mr. Phelps hadn't heard about it, then. I could vividly imagine the old man angrily stomping across the lobby while accusing me of attempted murder.

"Huh? Did he complain to you? About what?" Jonah suddenly asked Riley, frowning in utter confusion "No, that makes no sense..."

"Dude... he threatened to sue me," I muttered, rolling my eyes at the mere memory.

Jonah quietly nibbled on his fingernail, staring off at the ceiling before sighing under his breath. "Wow, and here I thought he had a thing for you."

"He—what?"

Jonah was still deep in thought, but he nodded his head affirmatively. "Yeah, I was going to ask if something was going on between you two."

I stared at him in disbelief, feeling a sharp sting of mortification. I couldn't even decide whether to be more troubled by him suddenly questioning my sexuality, or the fact that he'd immediately assumed I'd go for a man about fifty years my senior if that were even the case. Which, of course, I was gay, but there was no way in hell I'd told either of them about that. Or had ever allowed them any room to assume as much.

Although, as troubling as it was to think about that man being interested in me, perhaps that would explain why he'd been so insistent, going as far as to chase me down the hallway. "Uh, and you... aren't grossed out by that?"

Jonah snorted. "No? Why should I be?"

I cautiously glanced over at Riley to try and garner her reaction, only to grow tense when I saw the sheer disgust on her face. She physically gagged before smacking Jonah across the back of the head again, harder this time. "What the hell's wrong with you, Jonah?"

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Jonah scoffed, shooting up from the bench and defensively pointing at her. "I'm not trying to meddle or anything, alright? I was just—" he released a deep breath, wildly pointing at me while glaring her down. "But the dude seemed really interested in our Benny boy, okay? I was just saying... if Benny were—which, I'm not assuming anything, okay? Just hear me out—but if Benny did swing that way, then I thought that dude might be his type, y'know?"

Riley and I stared at each other, equally perplexed.

"I'm so sorry that he's the way that he is," she apologized to me softly, reaching out to pat my shoulder. "I can fight him for you if you want."

I sighed, shrugging. "It's fine, I'm used to it by now."

Jonah scoffed. "I'm right here," he yelled out before sitting back down, angrily crossing his arms across his chest. "I didn't expect you guys to be so damn homophobic all of a sudden. Hell, I don't know if I can be friends with people like that—"

"Y'know I'm bi, right?" Riley retorted, rolling her eyes.

Jonah furrowed his eyebrows in distaste. "So you're a backstabber?"

I shook my head, suddenly holding Riley back before she could pull Jonah into a headlock. "I—why do you think I'd be interested in someone that's—ugh, Riley, chill—that much older than me, anyway?" I asked between huffs, desperately struggling to keep Riley at bay.

"He can't be that much older than us," Jonah retorted before pondering about it, scooting further down the bench to stay out of Riley's range. "Maybe I didn't look at him properly, though?"

Riley suddenly stopped resisting, allowing herself to be sat back down and throwing her head back, outright cackling. I stared at her curiously, chuckling as she slapped my arm while wiping tears out of the corners of her eyes. "Jonah, who are you even talking about?"

Jonah darted his eyes between us, opening his mouth to defend himself before closing it right back up. "Wait, who the hell are you guys talking about?"

Damn it.

"I ran into some elderly man while leaving class and accidentally spilled some water on him," I finally supplied, relaxing somewhat when Riley started nodding her head in agreement.

"Yeah, he came to the main desk to complain about it," Riley added before flashing an apologetic wince. "Ah, I honestly don't know what happened afterward, though. Marissa kind of took over."

"Of course, she did."

"A bit too eagerly, at that."

I groaned under my breath.

There was no way to avoid repercussions, then. If that man was a fire, then our dearly beloved manager was a pyromaniac stocked full of gasoline cans and an insatiable hunger for arson. There was no way I was getting out of this one without at least a few second-degree burns. And without a job... if she had anything to do with it.

Riley tugged on Jonah's shirt as he paced in front of us, frowning up at him. "Wait. If Bennett and I were talking about that jerk, who were you talking about?"

"Huh? I was talking about the dude I ran into while on my way to get Bennett," Jonah mentioned before finally processing what was going on as well. "I—I don't think I caught his name, though."

Oh.

Oh.

"What dude?" Riley asked, turning towards me. "There's a dude?"

I scoffed, suddenly taken aback by the complexity of the tile pattern that lay across the staff's locker room floor. I'd started to count the individual black and white pieces when Riley physically grabbed my face and forced me to look up at her, squishing my cheeks until I focused. "Well?" she demanded.

"Nope. There's no dude. Jonah must've hit his head," I assured her rather exasperatedly while escaping from her grasp—like a damn liar.

"Oh, come on! He even knew your name," Jonah pointed out accusingly.

"I have a name tag," I replied through clenched teeth.

"Which you never wear," Jonah retorted before wildly pointing at my tagless shirt. "You're not even wearing it right now!"

I immediately covered the space across my chest with my hand. "I—uh, I just took it off."

"Hmm, Jonah does have a point there... Sorry, Bennett."

I narrowed my eyes at Riley, who'd been so easily swayed by Jonah. But there was no way I was going to bring Mason up, especially if Jonah was already suspecting that I wasn't straight.

"Aw, come on. You don't trust us?" Jonah asked before huffing. "Huh. If you're not interested—wait—has he been bothering you? Do I need to kick his ass? Because I will. I bet he's still around here somewhere!"

"No, he hasn't," I muttered, cursing under my breath when I realized I'd walked right into his trap.

"See? I knew he was lying." Jonah and Riley nodded at each other before giving me their full attention. "Alright, Benny, spill."

I tried to get up and waddle away, only to be pulled back down by Jonah as he wrapped an arm over my shoulder. "No need to be shy, bud. Tell us all about Mr. Broody."

"He was broody?" Riley scrunched up her nose in distaste.

"I think he was just jealous of me, actually," Jonah remarked, to which Riley's eyes lit up with a fiery intrigue. "You should have seen how pissed off he looked when I didn't deny his assumption that Bennett and I were a couple."

"You what?" I asked, just as Riley yelled over me, "Oh my god, how does he look? Is he hot?"

"Well, yeah. Why else would I—oh, oh yeah, he was also a bit taller than me, which I personally found offensive. And—"

"He wasn't jealous! He was probably just pissed off," I confessed, wearily cutting him off before he could say anything else. "I've—I've been getting him caught up in my shit lately. Not on purpose, of course, but yeah... there's nothing else there."

Jonah sighed, suddenly tightening his grip on me. He seemed to deflate somewhat. "Oh. Sorry."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not—I'm—" I released a deep sigh, and just sank into Jonah's side. The words refused to leave my mouth, caught somewhere between my throat and the back of my teeth. I gritted down on them for good measure, wishing I were better at keeping things to myself. I knew they wouldn't judge me for being gay, yet...

There was a bitter, metallic taste fermenting in my mouth. I could feel the pricking blossoming across my tongue, but I swallowed it down as best as I could.

Every gulp lingered with the aftertaste of bile, but it was all I could manage.

"I'd rather not get into it." I stood up, grumbling when Jonah tried to follow after me.

"Hey, your injury," he said before offering his arm.

"And don't go around telling people we're dating," I scolded him before shoving the ice pack into his hand, trying to ignore the glimmers of concern and guilt that crossed his expression and settled there. "It's fucked up."

"Sorry, I was just—"

"I don't care what you were trying to do! Just leave me out of it."

I picked up my backpack from the ground and stormed out without waiting for a response, suppressing the deep surges of raw, materialized agony as fresh pain shot up my leg. I was probably still limping somewhat, but I straightened my stance as best as I could and carried forward with feigned nonchalance, only leaning against the wall once I was out of the room.

I pulled the backpack over my shoulder and longingly glanced at the exit, only managing to take a few more steps further down the lobby before I heard the warning sound of Marissa clearing her throat as she tried to grab my attention.

"Bennett," Marissa called out, a knowing smirk on her face. "Mr. Phelps is looking for you."

I grumbled under my breath, nodding my head in quiet defeat before pushing myself away from the wall. I forced my way through the hallway and into our boss' office despite the way my ankle throbbed in complaint. The sooner I got this out of the way, the faster I could get the hell out of here.

"Mr. Phelps," I greeted while knocking on the door, hesitantly opening it, and peering in once I saw him wave at me through the wide window that looked into his office. I'd been meaning to talk to him soon, but I hadn't expected it to be under such conditions.

"Bennett! Come in!"

I flashed a polite smile, cautiously slipping into the room and sitting down on one of the free seats across his desk, setting the backpack on my lap and clinging to it with a tight grip. I even chuckled when he leaned over and reached out his clenched hand for a fist bump, hesitantly pressed my fist against his. I widened my smile for good measure. "What's going on, sir?"

"Oh, yeah. So, we got some complaints," he started, theatrically tugging on his shirt collar and releasing a fake nervous sigh before flashing a smile that was all teeth. "I'm sure you're well aware of our policies, correct?"

I rapidly nodded my head. "I'm—I'm sorry for the inconvenience," I muttered before my eyes widened in confusion. "Wait, complaints? As in multiple?"

Mr. Phelps winced before nodding his head slowly. "Two within the past hour, I'm afraid. You know I'd like to give you the benefit of the doubt, as you've been quite punctual and responsible up until now, but the second allegation is particularly concerning."

I felt my heart sinking deep, far beneath the seat and the floor sustaining my shuddering frame. Perhaps it'd reach the earth's core and incinerate into nothing. At least then I'd finally be freed of the suffocating tightness in my chest, and the constant, violent rush of blood pounding against my ears.

I could hardly hear Mr' Phelps' words, his voice blurring together into a deep drone. But I understood enough to feel that tightness in my chest grow heavier, igniting anew with the intense realization that Mason had reported me as well.

My brain was already spinning hundreds of miles per hour, trying to compartmentalize and rationalize his intentions. And of course, the most naive part of my being wanted to question it and trust that there was no way he'd do that... not when he'd treated me so kindly just a few nights ago. Not when he kept dominating so many of my thoughts, taking residence in the forefront of my mind as if that space had always belonged to him.

But who else could it have been, realistically? Of course, I'd figured Mason was irritated with me, but I hadn't—it hadn't even crossed my mind that he'd go this far. That he'd jeopardize my job here—why, so he'd be able to continue frequenting this gym without the burden of my presence?

So, he truly did detest me, huh?

I couldn't help the tired sigh that left my quivering lips. I could feel the familiar stinging in the corners of my eyes, but I defiantly suppressed the tears. I couldn't cry now, not in front of my boss.

"Am I fired?" I asked with a foreign glint of determination, wondering whether it was bravery that was driving my voice or the desire for some form of finality. Not knowing was almost as frustrating as the worst-case scenario. I'd been hoping to ask him about picking up some janitorial duties once more since the number of classes I was assigned to had lessened due to it no longer being summer, but how could I do that now?

Mr. Phelps nervously scratched at his temple, releasing a sharp exhale before shaking his head. "I'd like to hear your side before I decide anything, of course. Why don't we start with the incident that happened with the older gentleman? From what I was recently informed—"

Suddenly, the phone on his desk was ringing. He apologetically held up his finger before taking the call. I could see his lips moving, but my brain wasn't even processing the words anymore. My father would be so disappointed.

No, he'd be beyond furious.

And he'd have a valid reason.

"Please don't fire me," I blurted out suddenly, feeling the shameful trail of wet, warm tears falling from my eyes. I coughed while trying to wipe them away, growing silent altogether when I realized my boss was staring at me in shock, his eyes widening in confusion before softening with pity.

"Hey, Mike. Let me call you right back, okay? I need to handle something," Mr. Phelps explained before hanging up, placing the phone down, and leaning a bit forward to gently pat the desk. "Are you alright there, kid?"

I nodded my head, desperately trying to suppress my developing anguish, even as waves of conflicting emotions crashed through me like tidal waves. Perhaps I should have just ignored Marissa and walked out while I still could. "I'm sorry, sir. I—I just really need this job," I muttered, which wasn't necessarily wrong. "I swear it was just an accident."

Perhaps I could lie to my dad and tell him I'd willingly quit because I wanted a job closer to home, but how would I be able to afford this month's rent? Or my phone bill? Or the books I still had to buy for some of my upcoming classes? Or even a goddamn gym membership?

I'd already had to quit my other part-time because it'd been clashing too much with uni. And the seasonal part-time I had at the mall wouldn't be available until winter time. There was no way I could just get away with this, though. I'd been hoping to rely on my savings to make ends meet until after finals, but I'd already had my classes here at the gym cut from three to two due to the lack of demand that came with the school year.

Those karate classes were just too damn popular.

"Bennett..."

He'd probably remove the door from my room again. He'd definitely do much worse if I caught him in a bad mood.

I shuddered against my will.

"Hey, Bennett. It was an accident, right?" he asked, supplying a sympathetic smile when I finally met his gaze. "I'd like to think I know your potential, kid. After all, you've been working here since you were in high school. And I genuinely doubt you tried to murder one of our members."

"I—I wasn't looking where I was going," I confirmed, biting back the desire to ask who he was referring to. "That's not an excuse, though; I'll try—I will be more careful, I promise."

Mr. Phelps nodded his head, glancing around before leaning back against his chair, looking at me for a few quiet minutes before flashing a small smile. "Between this and the multiple attitude complaints we receive about Marissa, I worry about my staff sometimes."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Look," Mr. Phelps said carefully. "This is the first time you've ever been reported, correct?" I nodded my head in agreement. "So, I'm going to chalk it up to bad luck and bad timing. And the other report... I'll handle that one, now that I think about it. However, if there's another incident like this one in the future, Mr. Oden..."

He trailed off, but his intentions were crystal clear.

"I understand. Again, I'm so very sorry." My voice sounded hollow to my ears, but I could only hope he didn't notice the difference. At least I wasn't sobbing anymore, even if there was still a slight shake to my shoulders.

"You can go now," he replied, reaching over the desk for another fist bump. I met his fist with my own once more, too emotionally drained to even question it. "And please, try your best to get along with Marissa, alright? I don't want to hear that my staff isn't getting along."

I nodded my head in agreement, flashing a weak smile before turning to leave.

I bit back the burning desire to confirm who the other report had come from, knowing damn well it couldn't possibly help to be greedy when he'd already generously let me off the hook.

And yet, it felt so utterly tempting.

If I could just verify that he'd truly reported me, maybe things would be different. My mind would feel less tumultuous, and I'd stop thinking so fondly of someone who clearly did not appreciate my presence. Hopefully, my heart would stop racing every time we ran into each other as well, as if I even had the right to let myself be swayed by someone like him.

But I knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Thank you. Have a good day, sir."

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A/N: Thank you for reading. Please consider voting and commenting; I appreciate it immensely.