Calorie Burn Between His Sheets

The coach pitched some "accelerated weight-loss program" with a smirk. I should've known something was off when they made me sign an NDA just to join.

But the first clause? That threw me.

"Participants must wear designated lingerie during evening hours."

Seriously?

Midnight. Dorm Room 3.

Sophia Laurent was practically melting into her boyfriend on the bed across from mine, her breathy giggles and those obscene little moans making my ears burn. The bedsprings screamed in protest—honestly, how was that flimsy frame even holding up?

Welcome to SlimFit Retreat's charming co-ed dorm setup. Twenty of us, packed like sardines, with nothing but a flimsy curtain between beds. Every sigh, every whisper, every indecent sound from Sophia's side might as well have been right in my ear.

It was maddening.

The noises curled around me like smoke, teasing, taunting—until I couldn't take it anymore. I bolted to the bathroom, desperate for a cold shower to shock my system back to sanity.

Two months ago, my three-year relationship imploded. Cue the emotional eating, the sweatpants phase, the "I'll just eat this whole pizza, no big deal" spiral. Next thing I knew, I was signing up for this so-called "weight-loss paradise" Sophia wouldn't shut up about.

Turns out, "paradise" meant nightly performances that would make a porn director blush.

I knew mixed dorms were a bad idea. But this? This was torture for anyone flying solo.

Shower Stall. 12:47 AM.

I barely stepped inside before it started.

That sound.

Soft, sweet, completely shameless.

I wasn't naive. I knew exactly what was happening in the next stall. Hell, back when I had a boyfriend, I'd been worse. But this? A communal shower? Did they think this was some five-star honeymoon suite?

Their little escapade hit a fever pitch, the sounds so graphic my skin prickled with heat. My body betrayed me, reacting before my brain could scream "ABORT."

Three months without so much as a decent kiss. Three months of nothing. And now this?

I stood frozen, afraid to even breathe too loud.

My fingers moved on their own.

Damn it.

Fifteen agonizing minutes later, silence finally fell. Only then did I let the icy water punish my overheated skin.

Wrapped in a towel, I glared at my reflection—flushed cheeks, tousled hair, the evidence of my own weakness staring back at me.

Sophia burst in, glowing like she'd just won the lottery.

"Nana," she singsonged, eyeing my crimson face. "Why so red? Have a little fun in there?"

"Shut up," I hissed, tightening my towel. "I'm not that desperate."