At the free weights, he stood behind me, guiding my grip on the bar. His fingers wrapped over mine, adjusting my thumbs and then my wrists.
“Don’t fight it,” he murmured. “Let the weight move with you.”
I nodded, swallowing. My shoulders shook on the last rep. Jason’s palm settled between my shoulder blades, not pushing, just there for support.
“Good,” he said. “You’re stronger than you think.”
The praise hit me way harder than it should have.
We moved to the mats. Planks. Core work. Sweat slicked my skin. My shirt clung.
Jason dropped down beside me without hesitation, bracing himself like it was nothing to share the floor. Well, after having spent a night next to his shirtless figure, oblivious to his presence, this wasn’t even a little weird.
“Eyes forward,” he said. “Breathe.”
I was acutely aware of his proximity. Of the line of his arm, the flex of muscle when he shifted, and the fact that he was doing this with me, not over me.
When my form faltered, his hand came to my lower back, firm and anchoring. “Don’t sag. There.”
I held it. Shook. Held it longer.
“Time,” he said, and I collapsed onto my side, laughing breathlessly despite myself.
“You’re evil,” I said.
“Effective,” he corrected, offering me a hand. I took it. He pulled me up with an ease that made my stomach flip.
At the cable machine, he stood close again, adjusting the height, then my stance. His knuckles brushed my forearm. His breath warmed my ear when he leaned in to speak.
“Pull to here,” he said, guiding the motion with his hand hovering just shy of contact. “Control it. Don’t rush.”
I didn’t rush. I couldn’t. Every sense felt sharpened, tuned to the slide of muscle under skin, the way my body answered his cues like it wanted to impress him.
By the time we stretched, my legs trembled, and my shirt was damp through. Jason dropped to the mat across from me and mirrored my movements without comment. We breathed. The noise of the gym receded.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Tired,” I said. “In a good way.”
He smiled, softer than I was used to seeing. “You did great.”
The wordgreatsat between us, warm and dangerous.
When we stood, the moment lingered. Jason handed me my water. I drank, then realized my hands were shaking.
“Next time,” he said, voice light again, “we’ll add more weight.”
“There’s a next time?” I said before I could stop myself.
His eyes flicked to mine. Something passed there, quick and unreadable. “Yeah,” he said. “If you want.”
I did. I wanted to say it plainly. Instead, I nodded and wiped my hands on my towel, heart still racing.
As we walked toward the locker rooms, side by side, not touching, I was aware of the space between us and how charged it felt.
My muscles ached. My skin buzzed. And for the first time all day, the noise in my head went silent.
The locker room was quieter than the gym floor, the air warm and heavy with steam and the faint bite of disinfectant. Lockers slammed somewhere down the row, metal echoing, then faded. Jason walked ahead ofme, towel slung over his shoulder, easy in his body in a way that felt almost unreal.