"Cut that out idiot!"

This was the third time you had tried to snap a photo of him on your gym date, and he was tired of it. He hated when you did that, even though you saying it was because he looked so good boosted his ego. He held the punching bag he was beating still, snatching your phone and putting it up on a shelf far out of your reach.

"There, who's laughing now dumbass," he cackled, rather proud of himself. He decided this would be a good stopping point, a break for the punching bag, and sat down on a bench. He wiped sweat from his face, taking off his tank top so it wouldn't stick to his skin and picking up his water bottle to guzzle as he watched you try and reach your phone.