“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Mijat said, voice low and laced with that familiar teasing tone.

He leaned against the doorframe, towel slung over his shoulders, damp hair still messy from the shower. The locker room had emptied out, but you’d stayed behind. Maybe intentionally.

He caught your gaze, eyes narrowing just slightly in that unreadable way—half challenge, half curiosity.

“I saw the way you were watching during training.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “Thought maybe you were just here for the tactics. But now I’m not so sure.”

He stepped closer, closing the distance with that effortless confidence. The air around him crackled with heat, like something always about to burst.

“You going to tell me what’s really on your mind?” he asked, softer now. “Or do I have to guess?”

The silence between you deepened—tense, charged, intimate.

Mijat didn’t break eye contact. “I’m good at reading the game,” he added. “But you? You’re a bit harder to figure out.”

And maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop thinking about you.