Stranger Danger

69

Copyright © MonMoncheese
All Rights Reserved
69 Published 06.05.2020

•••

JAMES

Pushing my wet hair to the back, I turn off the shower and reach for the towel that hangs by one of the hooks on the door. Holding it in my hand, I wrap it over my hips, tying a knot to prevent it from falling.

As I watch a few drops of water fall from the shower head, I bring a hand to my hair and ruffle it to get rid of the excessed water.

Picking up my clothes, I unlock the door and push it open, my face coming in contact with the fog that was created from the hot water.

Turning to my left, I start walking in the direction of my locker.

I can hear the other showers running as I pass by some of the doors and I have to refrain myself from chuckling at a specific one.

Behind that certain door is someone singing at the top of their lungs.

I wouldn't be surprised if his voice was heard outside of the building.

"Yo, Zachary, please don't make singing your first career choice." I hear a guy say. There is a certain familiarity to the voice, but I struggle to pinpoint the owner of the voice.

"Hey! Don't kill his dreams." Someone else yells from the opposite row of showers and I let out a smile.

But it seems Zachary is too engrossed in the song because surprisingly he sings with a rich baritone causing a few of the guys to groan in response.

"Damn." Someone curses just I pass by their door and I shake my head at them.

He doesn't even sound that bad.

Walking in between the row of lockers, I don't stop until I'm standing in front of my own.

Dropping my clothes on the bench placed in the middle, I turn towards the locker and unlock it. Pushing the door to the side, I pull out the duffel bag that is pushed all the way to the back.

Dropping it on the bench before me, I pull the zipper opened and take out a clean attire. Reaching for the sweaty clothes from today's practice, I shove them inside the bag and push it aside. Grabbing the deorodant container, I spray it until the smell of sandalwood reaches my nose. Putting the cap over it, I place it back inside the top shelf of the locker.

Reaching down to the bench, I grab the navy blue shirt and throw it over my chest.

Unwrapping the towel wrapped over my lower body, I pick up my boxer briefs and slip them on. As the waistband comes in contact with my skin, I grab the pair of grey trackies and put them up. Tying the strings into a knot, I don't bother on putting cologne and simply shove the damp towel inside the duffel bag before zipping it close.

Grabbing my belongings from the locker, I shove the wallet inside my side pocket and turn my phone on. My eyes coming in contact with the screen.

But my face falls when I see the notifications.

I have a few messages from some friends, but none from the person I want to talk to.