Livin on a Prayer

Chapter Nine

Seanna

I slipped into the bathroom at the 7-11 and peeled off my black dress, folding it carefully and tucking it into my backpack like contraband.

Black jeans.

Uniform shirt. Normal enough.

My fingers stilled when I caught sight of my reflection.

The redness had spread.

It crawled across my chest and up toward my collarbone in thin, branching lines — like lightning trapped under my skin. Angry. Hot. Wrong.

I swallowed hard and looked away.

The second shower before work hadn’t helped. If anything, the heat had made it worse. My skin still felt tight and prickly, like something just beneath the surface was trying to push out.

Don’t be dramatic, Seanna.

Probably just the oil.

Definitely just the oil.

I forced my hands to steady and brushed on a light coat of mascara. Nothing too noticeable. Nothing that would start a lecture if anyone from church ever saw me.

Just enough to feel like… me.

When I stepped back out into the fluorescent glare, the coolers along the wall hummed softly. I grabbed the newest flavor of energy drink without even reading the label and headed for the register.

The church didn’t believe in energy drinks.

Apparently caffeine was fine — as long as it came in the socially acceptable form of secret coffee.

But energy drinks?

Demonic.

Naturally.

Personally, I thought they were a gift from heaven for night shift workers hanging on by a thread.

“There’s my favorite heathen.”

I snorted despite myself.

Leon stood behind the counter, tall and broad and very pleased with himself. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, gray threaded through his hair and beard. He’d told me once he was from the Dominican Republic, and in the months I’d been coming through here, he’d adopted me like some kind of mildly concerning stray.

“Shhhh,” I whispered dramatically. “You’ll get me excommunicated.”

He barked out a laugh.

“Mami,” he said, scanning my drink, voice gentler now, “you should do that for yourself. I see the freedom you chase but won’t commit to.”

My stomach dropped.

“It’s just a matter of time until you have to choose.”

Ouch.

I forced a small smile and handed him the cash, but his words stuck — heavy and uncomfortable in my chest.

Because the worst part?

He wasn’t wrong.

This half-life I was living… it wasn’t sustainable.

I just didn’t know what the alternative was.

I thanked him quietly and headed back out to my Jeep, cracking open the energy drink as I climbed in.

The rock station roared to life when I turned the key.

Livin’ on a Prayer.

I turned it up louder than necessary.

Anything to drown out my thoughts.

⸻

The gym parking lot was already partially full.

Three cars.

I groaned softly.

“Great,” I muttered. “Which one of you is going to be a problem tonight?”

I rolled in and parked, scanning automatically.

Two unfamiliar vehicles.

And—

Relief loosened my shoulders.

Cathy.

Sweet, marathon-running, tanning-bed-obsessed Cathy sat in her usual spot, typing away on her laptop like the world’s most polite night owl.

I hopped out and waved.

She beamed and waved back before returning to whatever spreadsheet of doom she was working on.

Bless that woman.

At least she was never the issue.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed toward the entrance—

—and suddenly my skin prickled.

Not the rash.

Something else.

That strange, crawling awareness I’d been getting more and more lately.

I turned.

And immediately wished I hadn’t.

Ezekiel.

Ugh.

My stomach clenched on instinct.

“We don’t open for another hour,” I said firmly, already pulling my keys out.

He smiled — too wide, too eager.

“Awe, come on,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ll stay out of your way. I promise you won’t even notice I’m here.”

Absolutely not.

I shook my head, keeping my voice polite but firm.

“I’m not allowed. It could literally cost me my job if you’re in here outside official hours.”

He didn’t back up.

Didn’t stop.

Just kept inching closer.

Pressure built in my chest — sharp and uncomfortable.

Then suddenly—

He froze.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned in.

“Hey… what’s wrong with your face?”

Heat flooded my ears.

Fantastic.

Love that for me.

I slipped the key into the lock, keeping my back straight.

“I’m having a small allergic reaction,” I said crisply. “And I’m hoping the Benadryl kicks in before I have to face everyone else tonight. So if you would please allow me a few moments of humiliation alone, I would appreciate it.”

Click.

I opened the door, slipped inside—

—and shut it firmly behind me.

Through the glass, I could still feel him staring.

Seconds ticked by.

Then finally…

He turned.

And walked back to his car.

I let out a long breath.

“Thank heavens,” I muttered.

But my heart was still racing.

Too fast.

Too hard.

And for some reason I couldn’t explain…

…it didn’t feel like the reaction was just from the rash.

Why was that guy so weird?