Flight

Emily’s chest heaved as every eye bore into her. Heat shot through her body, flushing her cheeks, her throat, even down into her chest where her nipples stood stiff and aching in the open air. The sound of their silence was louder than a shout. Her skin crawled under their stares, every inch of her body prickling with awareness.

It wasn’t just exposure—it was humiliation.

Martin seeing her in his office had been bad enough, one man with his leering grin and oily gaze. She’d thought she could bury that shame under bluff and sarcasm. But this—this was worse. So many of them. The runners, the girls, the boys with their slack jaws and twitching shorts, the way their eyes widened and burned into her. Even the man at the bars—silent, steady, but still watching.

The embarrassment burned hotter than the sun overhead. Her chest felt scalded, her stomach ached with the sting of it. She could feel the blush rushing over her skin, flooding her face until it throbbed. Exposed twice in one day. First in a quiet office. Now here, half-naked in front of a dozen strangers in the open air.

She bolted.

Not toward the open lot, not back to her car. Her sneakers scraped bark mulch as she cut hard down the narrow side trail. Branches whipped against her bare arms, leaves snagging at her hair.

The torn halves of her bra slapped uselessly against her ribs, her breasts bouncing painfully with each stride. Each step dragged her nipples raw against the ruined fabric. She pressed one arm across her chest, but it did nothing, every bounce just another reminder of how much of her was on display, how much they had seen.

The trail curved—and there it was.

A squat concrete block tucked beneath the trees. Restrooms. Faded paint, two doors, one marked in blue, the other in red.

Emily didn’t look. Didn’t care.

She barreled forward, slammed her palm against the nearest handle, and shoved the door open with a squeal of hinges.

Cool tile. Sour disinfectant. Buzzing light.

She stumbled inside, chest heaving, heart thundering in her ears. The door swung shut behind her with a heavy thud. She staggered forward, braced a hand against the wall, her other arm still clutched tight across her chest as if to hide what was already burned into the memory of every single person outside.

Her blush hadn’t faded. If anything, it deepened now, rushing hot across her skin, making her feel dizzy with the weight of it. Her shame clung tighter than sweat.

She’d been exposed again. Not just to one creep with a folder of forms. To all of them. Dozens of eyes. Young, old, male, female. Watching. Seeing.

Her legs trembled with adrenaline. Her breath came sharp and shallow.

The restroom was empty.

Only the echo of her gasps, the smell of cleanser, the hum of the light.

Emily pressed her forehead against the cool tile, eyes closed, trying to steady herself.

Safe.

For now.