Yes. She streaks.

Bailey’s breath hitched as she hesitated for a moment, her hands trembling as they gripped the towel one last time. With a quick, panicked glance around the alley, she knew she had ****—she couldn’t stay here, exposed and helpless. She pulled the towel off, letting it drop to the ground behind her, feeling a chill spread across her bare skin. Her heart pounded in her chest, the weight of vulnerability pressing down on her, but there was no time to linger.

Instinctively, she brought her left arm up to shield her chest and her right hand to cover her crotch her fingers digging into her skin for any sense of protection. Her bare feet scraped against the cold pavement as she took a cautious step forward, moving as quietly and quickly as she could toward the edge of the alleyway. The cool air rushed against her, heightening her discomfort, but the fear of being seen pushed her forward.

Bailey reached the edge of the alley and peeked around the corner, her eyes scanning the sidewalk. The street appeared empty—no pedestrians, no cars, no one in sight. A brief flash of relief ran through her, but it was quickly replaced by urgency. Without wasting another second, she bolted. Her bare feet pounded against the sidewalk, her heart racing as she sprinted toward the gym entrance, her arms still desperately clutching her body. Every step felt like an eternity, the exposed feeling of being naked in the open world making her stomach flip with every stride. She ran faster, barely daring to look around as she approached the gym’s front doors, praying no one would see her before she got there.

Bailey’s breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as she reached the gym entrance, relieved to see that nobody was around. Her pulse thundered in her ears, but she didn’t stop to catch her breath. Without wasting a second, she dashed into the lobby, eyes darting to make sure no one was lingering. The lobby was eerily quiet, and without a moment's hesitation, she sprinted across the space toward the hallway that led to the locker rooms. Her arms remained clutched tightly around herself, her body tense with the need for cover, but the end was so close. She was almost there—almost safe.

Her feet hit the floor with quick, steady steps as she moved down the hallway, her chest tight from the exertion. The locker rooms were just around the corner, and with every step she took, her sense of urgency intensified. She could almost taste the relief of being able to slip into her clothes, of finally ending this nightmare of exposure.