She supposed she looked hot. She pulled the sleeves down her arms a bit to get the off- the- shoulder look the dress was intended for. It was made of some sort of spandex blend, a bodycon fabric that clung to her every curve. She new the fabric would stain permanently with the first drop of water she spilled on it. She checked herself one more time in the smudged locker room mirror, adjusted her curls, and left.
The gym hall was deserted by now, school had ended a good hour ago, but she had stayed behind to prepare for her date. She preferred getting ready in the deserted locker room of her high school then dressing at home, where her parents would undoubtably bombard her with questions about the boy, where they were going, what they would do. It wasn't that they were worried, they trusted her. And hell, she was 18 now, a proper adult. But it was rare that she went on dates and her parents were always more excited on these occasions than she was. And frankly, there was no need to be worried. The boy was nerdy, he sat next to her in AP physics, and the most action she would get from him would be a nervous, too wet, kiss on the cheek.
She sighed. She knew she was overdressed for the casual restaurant where she was meeting him, but she knew if she didn't wear the clingy red dress tonight, she would probably never find another excuse to. She had almost made it out the door into the parking lot when a loud, "Peterson!" interrupted her thoughts. She knew it had to be Coach R., her short haired, shorter tempered gym teacher, because no one else referred to her by her last name. She turned, and sure enough, Coach was leaning out of her office doorway waving an envelope.
"Peterson, can you do me a favor? I'm running late and I've got to run. Will you put this envelope in Ben Highmoor's locker in the boy's locker room? There shouldn't be anyone in there at this hour"
Before she could reply, Coach said an eager, "Thank you" and power walked out the door into the parking lot.
She said a sardonic "Sure Coach, I don't have anywhere to be." and walked back down the hall to the boy's locker room. She had never been in the boy's locker room, and was not in the mood to surprise any half naked football players, so she knocked a couple of times on the heavy door. She could hear the sound of her knocking ring through the empty room.
She opened the door with a little effort and entered the locker room.
"Damn," she said under her breath as she looked around. The boy's locker room was vastly different from the girls. It was at least three times as large and spotlessly clean. There were rows and rows high lockers, each marked with a name plaque that stated which sports its owner played. Little cheer-leader decorated posters hung on the locker doors, with cliched encouragements written in pink marker.
She began down the first row.
"It probably won't be that hard to find Ben's locker," she thought, "I'll just look for the one with the most sports and the most posters."
Everyone knew Ben, even her. Although she imagined he didn't know her at all. They had had a few classes together over the years. And she had learned to consider Ben Highmoor the most accomplished, best looking and all around most loved boy in her school. He would have been the typical popular high school jock if not for his genuine nice personality which set him apart from the rest of the sports guys who she considered well, douche bags. Every sane girl at the school was in love with him, and she supposed she was to, although she had barely ever talked to him. He was like a movie star to her, the kind you have a crush on, but understand the impossibility of ever actually becoming anything with.
She had made it through the third row of lockers and still hadn't found his. She was approaching the shower area which consisted of a long tiled walkway with drainage pipes that had little curtained shower stalls on each side. She could see more lockers on the other side and decided to venture through the aisle of showers to see if she could find Ben's. She was beginning to feel uneasy, the locker rows were claustrophobic, and the room spelled of testosterone and too much body spray.
She thought about Ben again, about how his hair always seemed to be in perfect disarray. How his t-shirts would have been too tight on most guys, but how on him, they just accentuated the curves of his muscles. She wondered with a smile how many girls, probably students and teachers alike, had spent part of their school day daydreaming about Ben Highmoor.
She was awakened from her trance the second she stepped onto the white tiled floor of the aisle of showers when she was hit solidly with a high pressured spray of shower water. She gasped with surprise and tried to maintain her balance, but slipped onto her back on the now wet shower tiles, water still spraying her. She heard a loud exclamation of "Shit!" and heard the sound of knobs being twisted. The water lost pressure and slowly died away as she was able to open her eyes. She looked up just in time to see a tall, muscled figure whip a towel around his waist and kneel down to her.
"Shit," The figure repeated, "Are you all right?" She recognized the voice now. Of course. Of course it would be Ben. Of course this humiliation wouldn't happen in front of a less attractive guy.
"I... yeah." She said quietly, rubbing the back of her head where she could feel a bump beginning to develop. Her eyes focused fully, and she could see his beautiful face, bending down close to hers, dark green eyes full of confusion and worry.
"Here, let me help you up," he said.
"Umm, ok." She said, cheeks brightening as the full picture of her embarrassment became clearer. He slipped a hand under her back and one across her shoulders and puller her to her feet. Even in her daze, she still registered the feel of his big hand lingering on her waist as she steadied herself.
"I'm so sorry," Ben said, "I just turned on the shower and you came out of nowhere right into the water! I had no idea you were in here.... wait, why are you in here?"
"I... Sorry, can I sit down for a minute?" she said, swaying on her feet.
"Oh god! Here!" He caught her around the waist again and helped her over to sit on one of those fold out benches they had in all the shower stalls for disabled kids.
Safely on the bench, she leaned her head back against the wall of the shower and momentarily closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Ben was leaning close to her, concern back in his eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asked widening his eyes.
"Yeah, I think so," she said quietly, "I just hit my head on the floor. I'm.. sorry, I didn't know you were in here either, I was supposed to put this in your locker." She held up the now drenched envelope to him. He took it from her and and placed it on the bench beside her without looking at it.
"Your sorry? I'm sorry! I almost killed you.... with a shower! Does it hurt still, your head?"
The pain was subsiding , "It's getting better actually," she said.
"Good," he said with relief, "Can I get you an ice pack, or a towel or something? It's Lindsey, right?"
"Yeah, Lindsey," she said, surprised that he had remembered her name. She looked down at herself for the first time, and turned instantly red. Her thin dress was soaked through, her nipples extremely visible under the material, which had been tight before, but was now stuck fast to her body. "And yes, a towel would be good."
"Sure," he said, "towel," and hurried around the corner.
He returned quickly with her towel. He had donned a pair of athletic shorts, but remained bare chested. She had to focus on wrapping the towel around herself to avoid staring at his muscled chest.
"Let me help you," he said, encircling her in his muscled arms and wrapping the towel tightly around her.
"Uh.. thanks." she said, wishing she could just leave the locker room, but she still didn't trust her wobbly legs to keep her steady. Ben was now standing in front of her, looking unsure about what he should do next. She began to shiver. The locker rooms were not heated, and she had been blasted with the frigid water that comes out when you first turn a shower on.
"Crap, you're cold," he said, "I have some dry clothes in my locker, if you wanna..."
"No I'm fine really," she said, but she could hear the vibrato in her voice as her teeth chattered. "I don't really think I can walk steady yet.."
"Well that I can help you with," Ben said, sounding relieved to have found something to do. Without another word, he placed one arm back across her shoulders and one beneath her knees and lifted her up as if she weighed as much as a baby.
She didn't have time to protest. And she didn't know if she would be able to. The towel had swung open as Ben had scooped her up, and her soaked red dress was revealed again. She imagined the color of her cheeks must now perfectly match that damned little dress. Ben didn't carry her very far. He stopped in the middle of a row of lockers and laid her down on the long narrow bench that separated this row from the next. She tried to sit up, but he pushed her gently back down.
"Oh no you don't," he said, "I've seen enough concussions in football to know that you should stay horizontal."
"You think I have a concussion?" she asked nervously.
"Probably not," he said, "but you can't be too careful."
She stared up at him. God, he was being nice. Unconsciously, or maybe consciously, or perhaps a combination of both, she let her eyes travel down his chiseled chest to his rock solid abs, and settle on the two pronounced muscles that formed a V shape leading into his shorts. Her eyes drifted a little farther south and shot back up again when they saw the bulge that was showing itself in his shorts. She met his eyes. He had been watching her.
"About that," he said, his tone half embarrassed and half amused. "Please don't take it personally... well yes, you should take it personally. I... well, let's just say that you look really good in that dress, and that dress looks really good wet."
She turned her head away, unsurprised to feel a slight pain.
"I'm sorry, Lindsey," Ben said, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just want to help you." He sounded perfectly sincere, "I can't help but react to you. I'm only human, and you're well, you're a Goddess.
She slowly turned her head back to him. No one had ever called her a goddess. She supposed he was just being nice, but the growing tent in his shorts contradicted that thought.
"Can I sit up now?" She asked, deciding to ignore his previous comments.
"Slowly," he said. Yet again, his arm snaked around her shoulders, supporting her as she sat up. When she as sitting upright, his arm did not leave her.
"Are you still cold?" he asked.
