Free daynight by Megan Thomason

Focus Kira. Who cares if he’s good looking? He’s a jerk and I’m hardly ready to start dating again. “Showers are in the locker rooms,” he adds, pointing to mine. “Something wrong?”
    “I’m having difficulty adjusting to our new wardrobes,” I say, blood rushing to my cheeks, and immediately wishing I hadn’t said it out loud. He laughs and strokes my chin with his fingers. I recoil a bit by his touch, surprised that he’s capable of making a kind gesture. This is the same guy who insulted my upbringing mere hours ago. And there’s something about him that I just don’t trust, though I haven’t been able to pinpoint why I feel that way.
    “Likewise, my lovely friend and partner,” he says, with emphasis on the friend and partner. “See you back in there?” He winks and starts to walk towards the men’s locker room.
    “Can’t wait,” I say, but then realize he might take it the wrong way, so I add, “I’m awfully curious about all those rules.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    Blake

    ‘Crap, crap, crap,’ I think, pounding my head on the side of the shower. I don’t know how to do this, and am quite sure I’m going about it all wrong. Kira seems to be intrigued by me, which I need her to be. This is exactly what the powers that be want—they want us to hook up and make the Cleaving automatic. I need them to think that it’s going to happen so I can cover my tracks on my real mission here.
    I was a complete dick to Kira at breakfast, because I just know that she’s been waited on hand and foot, and that trend’s got to stop, so I tell her I’m not after her. Guys always get accused of going after the challenge, but chicks can’t resist the unattainable either.  
    The medical pit stop went fine and I think I managed to act surprised at the outdoor landscape, but then we go to training, and I can tell right off the chairs are biometric. This means the powers that be will be tracking every single heartbeat, so they can observe how we’re responding to the smelly load of crap they’re feeding us. They want to make sure the info is new and fresh coming in, and that we’re not plants. Kira aces her reaction, pummeling them with questions and pounding on her tablet when the answers aren’t to her satisfaction.
    I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to pull it off and then it occurs to me that if I can get them to think that any abnormalities in my feed are because they stuffed me in close quarters to this incredibly hot chick, then I’ll pass with flying colors. She’s all up in my face and asking me about my eyes, staring at me all lovey-dovey, so then I start ‘accidentally’ brushing her with my hands and arms, and next thing I know she’s asleep on my shoulder. My mind starts wandering places it shouldn’t go, but there’s only so much involvement I’m willing to have with this girl. Maybe Kira’s not the airhead cheerleader I originally thought, but not really relationship material either. As if I could allow anyone to become relationship material. Been there, been burned.
    The workout was physically great, mentally brutal. I’ve been trained to focus, so that’s the only thing that got me through. Because when I walked in and saw her dressed in the standard issue close-to-naked workout fare, I started thinking maybe I can mix a little pleasure with business. But then I think, no way, I’m not her type anyway. She likes big, burly, stupid dudes who pretend to respect her by burying themselves in a bottle. Then she sees me shirtless, about falls off her treadmill, and I think she just may be able to adapt to someone slimmer and smarter. I don’t react though. I’ve been taught well and that gives me the upper hand.  
    Now what do I do? I pound my head a few more times, letting the cold water wash over me, trying to figure out my next play. What I need to do is dial it down a few notches. I know what’s coming when training finishes and she’s going to lose it, that’s a