Relentless.
Stella.
Halfway up the bleachers. Hair pulled high. Calves flexing with every step. No wasted motion. Up. Down. Up. Down.
I glance toward the weight room.
Then back at her.
Weights can wait.
“Switching it up today?” I start up the steps behind her.
She doesn’t look down.
“Didn’t know this was your time slot,” she says, breath steady.
“It’s not.”
That gets me a glance.
“Skipping something?” she asks.
“Adapting.”
She gives the faintest smirk and keeps climbing.
I match her pace.
It’s not easy.
She doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t make it easier because I’m here. Just lets me earn the space beside her.
We fall into rhythm.
Step. Step. Step.
The air between us tightens.
Not awkward.
Charged.
“You always do stairs?” I ask after a few rounds.
“Conditioning,” she says. “You boys forget cardio exists.”
“We run.”
“You jog.”
I grin.
She’s stronger than she was in high school. Sharper. More certain in her body.
I remember velvet curtains. Late summer heat, that spilled into fall. Her mouth inches from mine.
That same electricity is here.
