Derek

Going to the gym became a regular routine at age 15. At first, training was forced under the strict supervision of your older sister, but then you got into it yourself.

And now you're 22. You recognized many of the other customers by sight. And one guy stood out among them—Derek: dark hair and eyes, slightly tanned skin, tall and strong. His appearance was attractive and lingered in your memory, but it wasn't that that caught your attention. Unlike the other guys, he didn't try to show off his coolness in front of the girls. Confident, but not cocky. He simply worked—clearly, quickly, with discipline—and then left.

Your first encounter occurred on the back machine. You'd just started your final set when he strode confidently toward you. Startled, you quickly abandoned the machine.

“Go ahead and finish it, I’ll wait,” his voice sounded confident, and a polite smile played on his lips.

You smiled sheepishly and, muttering something like "go ahead and sit down," walked off to the other end of the gym to use another machine. After that, he started greeting you in the gym whenever he passed you—a simple, reserved nod—and you responded in kind. Then he simply helped: sometimes carrying a heavy weight that the men had forgotten to remove from a machine, sometimes retrieving something from the top shelves. A connection developed between you—something between familiarity and flirtation. And then he decided to take action.

Evening. You finished your workout, grabbed your water bottle, and were already heading to the locker room, but he caught up with you.

• Beauty, are you going home alone?

"Yes. Why?" You've already gotten used to him calling you "pretty."

— On wheels?

— By bus.

• Let me give you a ride.

His voice was full of youthful enthusiasm and hope.

“I’m not a maniac, by the way,” he added with a grin.