Jenn hides in the shower

Jenn’s blood turned to ice. They were right there. She had no time to run for the hall. Her only chance was the row of showers. She sprinted, bare feet slapping against the tile, and ducked into the nearest stall. The flimsy curtain swished closed just as one of the guys rounded the corner.

She pressed her back against the cold tile, clutching her towel to her waist. She tried to breathe quietly, but her heart was hammering so loud she swore they’d hear it.

“Man, I reek,” one of them said, tossing his gym bag down. “I’m hitting the showers.”

Jenn’s eyes went wide. She could hear the squeak of the tap two stalls down, followed by the hiss of running water. Another shower turned on across the row. The sound of splashing and humming filled the air.

Oh no. Oh no no no no.

If she just stood there, silent, curtain drawn, they might notice. She could already imagine it: someone tugging the curtain back, expecting an empty stall, only to find her crouched in a thong and T-shirt, caught like a raccoon in a trash can.

Her hands shook. She looked down at her sweat-soaked shirt. If she wanted to blend in, to look like just another person showering…

She swallowed hard. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Reluctantly, Jenn peeled off her shirt and tossed it over the railing. The towel followed. She stood there in only her thong for a long, trembling moment before cursing under her breath and sliding it down too.

Now completely bare, she reached up with shaking hands and turned on the water. It sputtered, then rushed down over her in a warm sheet, splattering against the tile.

Jenn pressed her forehead to the wall, mortified beyond words. Great. Thirty-eight years old, hiding naked in the men’s locker room, praying no one notices. How is this my life?

The showers filled with chatter.

“Game on tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m bringing beer.”

“Bro, that treadmill thing...I can’t stop picturing it.”

Jenn shut her eyes, letting the water run down her face. All she had to do was outlast them. If she stayed quiet, stayed still, they’d finish, leave, and she could escape.

She hugged herself under the spray, every sound outside the curtain amplified: flip-flops squeaking, bottles opening, towels snapping. She could feel the steam building, mingling with her own panic.