I stay quiet and follow him. Like earlier, he talks while we walk, pointing out everything like he really is some sort of tour guide.
When he pushes open the gym doors, he announces, “Behold! A sanctuary for gainz. With a z, for a cooler effect. Did it work? Did I sound cool? Don’t answer that. IknowI’m cool.”
While he keeps talking, I look around. The gym’s cleaner than any place I’ve trained in. Rows of high-end machines. Mirrors on every wall. A corner stacked with drinks and snacks.
Stan strolls in and looks straight at me. “State-of-the-art stuff, right?” he asks, hands on his hips. “I’m talking about me, of course.”
I grab a pair of dumbbells that won’t tear anything in me. My mindremembers the motions. My muscles don’t, but they’ll get there.
Stan watches. “Damn, Ocean Eyes,” he says under his breath. “You move like you’ve been doing this instead of sleeping pretty for four months.”
“I used to train whenever I could,” I say. “Helped clear my head.”
“Right,” he says, eyes on my arms. “Super therapeutic. Great eye candy.”
I switch weights. My body protests but in a way that feels useful. Healing, maybe. Stan watches every rep.
“You want me to spot you, right?” he asks.
“Soon, when I’m on the heavier stuff.”
“I got you then,” he says, voice dropping. “Right now, I’m enjoying the view too much anyway.”
My grip almost slips. He catches the moment and chuckles.
After I finish a few sets, I put the weight down and breathe through the burn. Stan lies back on a mat, arms behind his head, shirt riding up for a peek of his sculpted abs and his v-line.
“Ocean Eyes, riddle me this,” he says, “You come out of a coma, and all you wanna do is work out?”
I sit beside him on the mat. “Pushing through it to get control of my body again,” I answer between pants.
“You’re doing great.” He turns his head toward me, gray eyes warm in a way I’m not prepared for. “Seriously. I haven’t taken my eyes off you since we got in here.”
“I noticed.”
“That’s the point, Nil.” His voice is almost a whisper. “I want you to.”
There’s a tug low in my ribs from hearing his words. Maybe I want him to notice me too.
Freedom felt like the end goal for so long. But being here beside him, sweat cooling on my skin, heat rolling off our bodies… I start thinking of a different goal.
Before I can form another thought, I catch the way Stan eyes my shoulders, dragging his gaze down my neck. “You’re hella tense.”
He presses two fingers into the base of my neck.
“See, right here.” His touch is so damn warm. “And looks like your shoulders are trying to crawl into your ears.”
He stands up and steps back, smirking. He offers his hand. I take it and get up too.
“Warm up with me, Ocean Eyes.”
I furrow my brows. “I just usually…start.”
“Oh, I know,” he says, slipping his hand out. “You rush into everything. Fights. Cliffs. My mom.”
With a short chuckle, I follow him to the stretch of gym where the treadmills are. He taps one to life.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have given me permission to joke too much,” he quips.
