Kinsley fell in love with Phoenix Maverick, an NHL player for a team she never imagined supporting. But when Kinsley suffers from a head injury and forgets the last six years of her life, she struggles balancing being the person Phoenix fell in love...
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Late august, one month ago
Leighton and I spotted each other at the gym in my apartment complex Sunday morning. I liked to maintain a good regime all year, but when the season was approaching, we went a bit harder to make sure we were as fit and agile as we could be.
Leighton, who couldn't be alone, ever, came over most mornings when we both agreed to exercise. His loc's were pushed off his face with a sweat band.
I wasn't sure what his deal was, why he was never at peace in his own company, but if he needed someone to hold his hand, whatever, I'd do that for him.
The gym was vacant apart from the two of us. Music hummed, a loop of EDM remixes that were loud enough to be heard but not too loud it couldn't be drowned out with headphones. The tinted floor to ceiling windows offered a view of the heated pool, which was busier than the gym ever was.
My skin was damp with sweat as I sat on the leg press and pushed the fucking stack of weights, keeping a close eye on my form. Last night, in bed, Kinsley had shown me a video of a dude doing the same exercise and I'd watched in horror when his fucking knee caps popped and sunk back in the wrong direction.
"Why would you show me that, Kinsley? I'm going to be fucking sick."
"It's informative," she said, dropping her phone onto the comforter and stretching her arms above her head with a yawn.
Her breast slipped out of her tank top and I was promptly distracted with the thought of putting that nipple between my teeth.
"You need to be aware of the dangers of improper exercise. Imagine if you busted a knee cap. No more hockey."
I dipped my head, drew her nipple between my lips and that was the end of that conversation.
Speaking of, the door beeped, signalling a security clearance and in walked my girl, a water bottle swinging in one hand, phone in the other.
My eyes immediately cut to Leighton on the other side of the room. He'd paused picking out his next weight while he watched Kinsley walk past in a sports bra and a pair of shorts that clung to her like a second skin, the dark red material stretching tight across her curves and dips.
Every step she took made her ass move like a fucking wave.
And Leighton's tongue was practically hanging out of his damn head.
She didn't see him when she came in because he was positioned to the side of the door, the weight rack flush against the wall with a support beam in front of it.
"Mhmm," Kinsley said, noticing me on the leg press. "Thought you'd be in here."
Suspending the leg press, I relaxed my legs, admiring the waist on Kinsley, the perfect curve for my hands, her thick thighs and smooth skin.
