Lila's POV
I decided to start my shift earlier than usual that evening. The idea was simple — finish everything faster so I could get home at a decent hour instead of staying until the middle of the night.
But rush hour in the dorm turned out to be exactly what I didn't want. The hallways were crowded with guys coming back from classes, practice, or just hanging out. Noise bounced off the walls — loud laughter, slamming doors, music from different rooms. It felt overwhelming.
The usual comments followed me as I pushed my cleaning cart. A few catcalls, some teasing whistles, and jokes I tried hard to ignore. It was still new to me, this constant attention on my body in the tight uniform.
I kept my head down and focused on the work. I had already mopped two full floors by myself and taken out all the trash bags without any help. Jax wasn't around tonight, so I had lifted the heavy bags into the bin on my own. My arms ached, but I felt a small sense of pride that I had managed it.
Still, there was plenty left to do. The gym needed cleaning, the lounge had to be tidied, and the restrooms were waiting. I saved the bathrooms for last, hoping fewer people would be around by then.
By 9 p.m. the hallway outside the men's restroom was almost empty. I waited until the last guy walked out, then quickly placed the yellow "Cleaning in Progress" sign on the door. I stepped inside and closed it behind me.
The air felt warm and humid, like someone had just finished a long shower. Steam still lingered near the ceiling. Rows of shower stalls lined one wall, and the smell of soap and clean skin hung in the air.
I started working, wiping down sinks and mopping the tiled floor. But my mind kept drifting. I couldn't help imagining what this place looked like when it was full — guys showering, water running down their bodies, laughter echoing off the walls. The thought was sudden and vivid.
Heat rushed between my legs. I pressed my thighs together, feeling myself get wet again. It was silly and embarrassing, but the fantasy wouldn't leave my head. I tried to focus on scrubbing, but the warm, private atmosphere made everything feel more charged than it should.
After almost an hour, I finally finished. My back hurt, sweat covered my skin, and my uniform clung uncomfortably to my soft curves. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me I had skipped a proper dinner. I grabbed the simple sandwich and bottle of water I had packed earlier and headed outside for some fresh air.
There was a quiet park bench just behind the dorm building. I sat down, unwrapped the sandwich, and took a small bite. The night air felt cool against my sweaty skin. For a moment, everything was peaceful. Just me, the sandwich, and the distant sound of traffic.
Then a calm, smooth voice broke the silence.
"I'm sure that wasn't enough for dinner. Here, I have something for you."
I looked up, startled. Miles stood a few steps away, holding a takeout box. He had an athletic build — broad shoulders, lean muscles from swimming, and striking blue eyes that seemed to see right through me. His short light brown hair was slightly messy, and he carried himself with quiet confidence. I froze, sandwich halfway to my mouth.
He walked closer and gently placed the pasta box on my lap. Then he sat down right next to me on the bench. "Hey, why are you looking at me like that? This is for you. I'm Miles."
I blinked, feeling my cheeks warm. "Oh… yeah. I'm sorry. I'm Lila. Thanks for the food, but this sandwich is enough for me."
Miles smiled softly. "Yes, I know your name. You look really tired. Are you working late again tonight?"
I kept my head down, staring at the box in my lap so I wouldn't have to meet those intense blue eyes. "No, I'll head home right after I finish eating. Why do you want to talk to me? I think I…"
"What do you mean?" he asked gently. "Why can't I talk to a cute girl like you? Come here, I'll massage your shoulders."
Before I could say no, he turned me slightly so my back faced him. His hands settled on my shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tight muscles with surprising skill. I went completely still, clutching the sandwich and pasta box tightly. No one had ever touched me like this — so casually caring. My heart raced.
"Look, your muscles are so stiff," Miles said, his voice low and close to my ear. "I'm going to relax you so you can sleep better tonight."
The warmth of his breath sent another wave of heat through me. I felt myself getting wet again, fast and strong. The simple pressure of his fingers, combined with how near he was, made my body react before I could stop it. My thighs squeezed together on the bench.
"Miles, you don't have to do this," I whispered, nervous. "You can stop. I don't want anyone to see us like this. You'll get teased later."
"I don't care," he replied calmly, continuing the slow, firm massage. "I just want to help you. And can I ask you a question?"
I could only nod, too frozen to speak properly.
"What perfume are you wearing?" he asked softly.
"Perfume?" I repeated, surprised. Then I panicked. I had been sweating for hours. I probably smelled awful. I turned my head quickly to face him. "Excuse me, do I smell?"
Miles smiled, a gentle curve of his lips. He leaned his face closer to mine, eyes warm. "No. I like your scent. And the sweat on your face makes you look sexier."
My breath caught. Those words, spoken so quietly and sincerely, hit me hard. Fresh slickness coated my panties. I felt exposed, shy, and strangely thrilled all at once.
"Quickly finish your dinner and get some rest," he added, giving my shoulders one last gentle squeeze. "Good night, Lila."
Then he stood up and walked away, leaving me sitting there on the bench with the pasta box still warm on my lap.