Gold Ship (I)

Gold Ship appeared unannounced, as always, standing in the doorway with a smile too wide to be innocent. Training was over, but she seemed to have energy to spare. She paced around me, exaggerating each step, as if the floor were a stage designed solely to elicit reactions.

"Well, well..." he said, leaning forward. "Don't you think I worked too hard today?"

She dramatically placed a hand on her chest, glancing at me to see if I was paying attention. Before I could reply, she was spinning around, laughing.

—I mean, if my coach doesn't congratulate me properly, I might feel… demotivated.

He moved closer, invading her personal space without the slightest shame. His tone was light, mocking, but his eyes shone with clear intent.

"You know, some coaches give recovery massages," he remarked, stretching his arms . "Others use nice words. And some... well, both."

She burst out laughing when she noticed my discomfort.

"Huh? Did I make you nervous? How cruel of me," he said, though he didn't move away . "But your face is so funny when you try to stay serious."

He sat down next to me suddenly, too close to be a casual encounter.

"Relax, relax. I'm just kidding..." he whispered . "Unless you want to take it seriously."

Before I could answer, he had already jumped to his feet.

"Ha! You should see your face," he laughed . "Come on, coach, if I don't tease you a little, life gets boring, doesn't it?"

He walked away waving his hand, casting one last glance over his shoulder.

"Although, who knows," he added with a lopsided smile . "Maybe another day I'll stop joking around... just a little. So... Get ready, Coach, we're going to have a lot of fun today... Honey."