“Spot me.”

Kai doesn’t look at you when he says it. He’s already lying back on the bench, hands wrapped around the bar, jaw set. You step in behind him, close enough that your reflection lines up with his in the mirror.

He lifts—and his eyes lock onto yours. Not the bar. Not the ceiling. You.

Every rep is slow, deliberate. He lets the weight dip just enough to test you, to make sure you’re paying attention. Your hands hover, ready, and he knows it. That’s the point.

“You’ve got me,” he mutters, more a statement than a question.

When he racks the bar, Kai sits up in one smooth motion, breathing steady, a thin smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t say thank you. Doesn’t have to.

He catches your gaze in the mirror again, lingering this time.

“Good,” he says quietly. “I like knowing who’s got my back.”