Focus, Torres. This is just for your magic. The plan. Remember the plan.
But the plan had gone out the door when I’d challenged him, the part of me that couldn’t bear to fail at the one thing I could do lashing out, refusing to go down against this stranger.
“One more round. I’ll do more.”
“You’ve already done forty-three. Your grip is going.”
“My grip is fine.”
“Your left hand is bleeding.”
I glanced down. A small tear at the base of my ring finger, the kind you got when you pushed past where you should have. I closed my hand into a fist. How had he noticed that?
“I’m fine.”
He stepped closer. Not dramatically—just enough that I had to choose between holding my ground or stepping back.
And I was not stepping back.
He leaned in, his voice low against my ear.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me. Unless, of course”—his thumb grazed my hip—“this isn’t really about pull-ups.”
“That’s not?—”
“Third round.” He pulled back. “Show me what you’ve got.”
I hopped back onto the bar.
Four reps in, he jumped up facing me.
I almost lost my grip entirely.
He caught the bar just outside my hands, close enough that when we both pulled up the first time, my stomach brushed his. He watched me with the cocky act stripped away, no more pretense to hide his intensity, and I decided not to look at his mouth and focused on his collarbone instead, which was not a significant improvement.
“What are you doing?”
“Keeping you honest. No kips.”
He lowered himself down.
I lowered myself down.
And no matter how hard I tried, my body slid along his.
“You’re cheating.”
“Oh, so you’re the only one who gets to make up rules?” He pulled up again, and when he came back down, his thigh slid right between mine.
Six…seven…
His shirt had ridden up on one side, and our bare, sweaty skin kept touching as we moved. The rhythm of our motions was undeniably…suggestive, at the very least. I adjusted my grip and kept going, and every rep brought us close again at the top, his lips barely an inch from mine.
Ten…eleven…twelve…
My left hand was making its opinion known. I adjusted and kept going.
Seventeen…eighteen.
