Floor

"Focus. Back straight," you command yourself. But you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He lowers himself under the barbell, takes a deep breath, and begins squatting. Powerfully, deeply, without a single wasted movement. Watching it is like watching a perfectly tuned machine at work. You forget about your lunges.

Deciding you need a break, you put down the dumbbells and head to the water cooler. You feel his presence next to you even before he speaks.

"Hard day?" His voice is low, husky. You turn around. He's standing just half a meter away, sweat glistening on his temples.

"For my legs—always. I want it to hurt to sit tomorrow," you answer, trying to keep your voice even.

He grins, and the grin sends a shiver down my spine. — Revenge on someone specific or just a love of suffering?

“Oh, that’s personal,” you retort with a smile.

He takes a step closer and you feel the warmth of his body. "I saw you doing lunges. You have great technique, but you're leaning forward a little. Want me to spot you in the squats? I'll show you how to keep your core straight."

Your heart does a somersault. This isn't just help. It's an excuse. And you accept it.

You return to the rack. He helps you adjust the bar's height, his fingers accidentally brushing against your neck. Goosebumps run down your spine.

“Okay,” he stands behind you, very close. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. “Legs a little wider. Weight on your heels. I’ll be close.”

You nod, your mouth going dry. You unload the barbell and take a step back. His hands rest on either side of your shoulders. You lower yourself down. His presence behind you gives you an intoxicating confidence.

“Great,” he whispers. “I’ve got it.”

You do another rep, feeling not only the work of your muscles but also his gaze. When you're done, you turn to him, breathing heavily. The barbell hits the supports with a dull thud.

Silence hangs between you. He looks at your lips, then into your eyes.

— It was... impressive.

“Thanks for the insurance,” you breathe out.

He takes the last step, closing the distance to zero. — Maybe we should do it again?