“Sure,” he said after a beat. “If you don’t mind.”
“I offered, didn’t I?”
He lay back on the bench. I stepped behind him, hands ready. He gripped the bar, lifted it off the rack, brought it to his chest. From above I could watch the small furrow between his eyebrows as he focused, which was the part nobody warned you about. Spotting somebody you were attracted to put you in the close-up nobody had asked for.
“Good,” I said. “Keep your elbows tucked. That’s it.”
He completed his set, eight reps, solid form, and racked the bar. When he sat up, his face was flushed, and he was breathing a little harder.
“Thanks,” he said. “That was… I definitely would’ve dropped that on my face without you.”
“Anytime.” I meant it, which was weird. Usually, when I helped someone at the gym, it was basic courtesy. This was different. Like I actually wanted to help him, wanted an excuse to keep talking to him.
He grabbed his water bottle, took a drink, and I should’ve walked away. Moved on to my own workout. But I didn’t.
I grabbed my water. “You lift regularly, or just getting into it?”
“Regularly enough. I’ve been trying to be more consistent.” He glanced at me, self-conscious in a way I hadn’t expected, like he was aware of being looked at and didn’t quite know what to do with it. “You clearly know what you’re doing. How long have you been at it?”
“Six years. Started when I was eighteen.” I didn’t mention why. Didn’t mention the scrawny kid who’d gotten shoved into lockers. “It’s kind of my thing now.”
“It shows.”
The way he said it, direct and appreciative without tipping into sleazy,sat in my chest a beat too long. Most guys either didn’t compliment at all or went overboard with it. Ellis had landed somewhere honest.
“Thanks.” I tilted my head, studying him. “You doing anything after this?”
His eyes widened slightly. “After… the gym?”
“Yeah. There’s a good coffee place around the corner. They make these protein shakes that don’t taste like chalk.” I kept my tone light, casual, even though my heart was doing something weird. “Could grab one. Talk about… I don’t know, proper squat form or whatever.”
Smooth, Jett. Real smooth.
Ellis looked at me for a long moment, and something fought behind his eyes. Want versus fear versus something else I couldn’t name.
“I’d like that,” he said after a long pause. “But I can’t today. I have a thing.”
A thing. The universal excuse. I knew it well. I’d used it myself a hundred times.
“Right. No worries.” I kept my smile easy, unbothered, like it didn’t matter. Like I wasn’t weirdly disappointed. “Maybe another time.”
“Actually…” Ellis pulled out his phone. “Could I get your number? For, you know, gym advice. Or if you wanted to try that coffee place another time.”
Oh.
Oh.
I rattled off my number, watching him type it in, and when he looked back up at me, his expression had gone vulnerable. Like he’d just done something brave and terrifying.
“Cool,” he said. “I’ll text you.”
“You better.” I winked, falling back into familiar territory. Flirting, I could do. Flirting was safe. “Don’t leave me hanging, Ellis.”
He smiled, really smiled this time, and it transformed his whole face. “I won’t.”
I walked away before I could do something stupid like keep talking, and I didn’t let myself look back. The rest of the workout, I kept replaying it.
The way he’d looked at me. The hesitation before he said yes to the number exchange. The way he said my name, like he was trying it out for size.
