There Is An Island Off The Coast Of Washington Where A Religious Cult Operates A ‘Colony’

Gabby stepped out from the shadows of the toilet stalls as they started to fill the air with the sound of them refilling. I scrambled to cover myself up with my hands. She finished her clapping just over my head and then offered a hand to help me get myself back to my feet.

“I wasn’t sure if that was going to work,” she said as I found my footing.

“How the fuck did you get in here?”

“Your coach always leaves the door unlocked when you two are in here practicing.”

I of course couldn’t tell her, but Gabby’s presence was a huge relief compared to the monsters my head was dreaming up as the sources of the footsteps I had been hearing in the locker room during my showers the past few days.

The situation was so shocking it took me a few moments to realize I was standing naked in front of her. I clasped my junk as well as I could and took a sheepish step back.

The two of us had spent just about every afternoon in the time between the final school bell and my practice sessions with Coach Raphael making out in the woods near the school, but we had barely seen any of each other’s skin. I couldn’t believe she would pull a prank so intimate and bold, but she didn’t seem to be the least bit fazed. She actually took a steam towards my wet body and a cartoonish gulp dropped down my throat.

She wrapped me in a soft grasp, the water all over my body soaking into her blouse as we staggered back towards the shower. Her kisses were so soft, I felt like I was insulting her when I replied with sloppy tonguing with a jaw locked in nervousness. The laughter that slipped out of her mouth into mine did little to calm my nerves.

We were just outside of the splash zone of the shower when she finally broke off her confidence. I was shocked to see her pull her face away from mine and start to play with her hair just above her ear.

“What? It’s fair for me to be naked, but you get to have your clothes on?”

A tsunami of regret washed over me right after I spoke.

She chewed on her lip for a second before she answered.

“We can’t…”

Gabby was interrupted by the pounding of footsteps coming from the top of the stairs that descended down into the locker room.

“Shit,” I whispered and started searching for my towel.

The steps started to slowly descend the stairs. The cocky glow had evaporated from Gabby’s face, she looked to me without breath.

“Come on,” I pulled Gabby with me into the shower and closed the curtain.

The water beat down upon both of us and I mouthed the word “Sorry” at her scared face as the footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs and started shuffling around the locker room.

“Who is it?” Gabby whispered into my chest, barely audible over the sound of the beating water.

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About the author
Jack has written professionally as a journalist, fiction writer, and ghost writer. For more information, visit his website. Follow Jack on Twitter or read more articles from Jack on Thought Catalog.

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