Someone else claims their new massage gun is life-changing.
Dex tells a story that starts with, “So this guy walks into a bar,” and somehow ends with him getting kicked out even though he swears it wasn’t his fault.
It’s loud.
Loose.
Comfortable.
Except today, no one’s really talking to me.
They’re watching.
I move to the squat rack and load more weight.
More than I should.
“Cap,” Gabriel says calmly, stepping closer. “That’s not your program today.”
“It is now.”
He doesn’t argue.
That’s worse.
I drop into the squat. My legs burn immediately. My vision blurs on the last rep.
I grind it out anyway.
When I stand, I feel the room shift.
Not dramatic.
Just… attentive.
“Alright,” Dex mutters. “Now I’m concerned.”
I rack the bar and turn on him. “You always say that.”
“Yeah, but this time I mean it.”
Eli leans against a bench, arms crossed. “You’ve been like this for days.”
“I’m fine.”
The lie comes easy.
It always does.
Gabriel exhales slowly. “You don’t lift angry unless something’s wrong.”
“I’m not angry.”
Dex snorts. “Buddy, you just tried to fight gravity.”
A few guys chuckle.
Normally, I would too.
