When the last round ends, the crew collapses onto the floor, panting. Josie rolls to her back and stretches her arms out like she’s about to be airlifted.
“I hope you realize,” she gasps, “if I die from this, my ghost is going to haunt your protein powder.”
I chuckle before I can stop myself. Just a low rumble in my chest, but it’s real.
God help me.
She’s chaos in donut leggings. And somehow, she keeps finding ways to get under my skin, deeper than anyone ever has.
And again, she amazes me.
Not just because she kept up. Not just because she did it with zero prep, questionable footwear, and a running commentary of complaints. But because she did it with heart.
Real grit.
The kind you can’t teach.
After the class, I stay behind to wipe down equipment, give a few form tips, and make sure no one’s passed out behind the squat rack. Josie lingers near the water cooler, towel draped around her neck, sipping from a bright purple bottle that saysBite Mein sparkly lettering.
I should walk away.
Ishould.
Instead, I walk over to her like I don’t already spend every waking moment tryingnotto look at her lips.
“You kept up,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “Didn’t think you would.”
She lifts one brow, breath still a little short. “What, because I’m late and cute and allergic to seriousness?”
“Something like that.”
She takes another sip, eyes narrowing like she sees more than I want her to. “Well, jokes on you, Coach Knightly. I’m made of spite and stubbornness. You put me in a room and tell me I can’t hang? Iwillhang. I’ll hang ‘til I pass out and take someone down with me.”
I almost laugh again.
But her tone shifts slightly. Light, teasing, but… probing.
“And here I thought you didn’t believe in mixing business and pleasure,” she says, tilting her head just enough to make it feel like a dare.
I pause.
The air tightens between us. Thickens. There’s a tension I can’t shake, a weight that sits between us like it’s waiting for me to either step forward or bolt.
She’s testing me.
And for a second, I let myself settle into her goading.
My eyes drift over her face, flushed cheeks, damp hair sticking to her jaw, a spark in her expression that says she knowsexactlywhat she’s doing. And I’m wrecked.
No one gets under my skin like this. No one’s gotten this close in years.
And now that the gossip has died down, it doesn’t seem like anyone is watching anymore.
I don't mean to say it. Don’t plan it. But the words fall out before I can stop them.
“You want to come by my place after work?”
Josie blinks.
