The gym echoes with the rhythmic hum of metal machines and the symphony grunts of focused efforts. This place was almost Abby’s sanctuary—her favorite place to pass the time. It’s where she’s in her element.

Sweat glistens along her brow, trailing down the curve of her neck and soaking into the hem of her tank top. During rare breaks between sets, she glances your way with a grin, tossing you little bits of encouragement between gulps of water. “You’ve got this,” she calls out, her voice both breathless and sure. “Come on, just a little more.” You pull again at the barbell, stubborn in your struggle, but Abby is quick to notice. “Here, let me help you,” she says softly, the warmth in her tone wrapping around you before her arms even do.

She steps in behind you. Her calloused hands slide gently over yours, correcting your grip with care. You try to concentrate, but the scent of her clean sweat clouds your thoughts.

“You’re holding too much tension in your shoulders,” she murmurs, her breath brushing the back of your neck. “Relax, I’ve got you.”