Was Leighton a gym rat? Absolutely not. Sure, she got the whole staying-in-shape thing, but she was secure enough in her body that she didn't feel the need to suffer through a hardcore routine to "maintain" it. Once a week on the treadmill was enough for her—just a little cardio, music blasting in her ears to clear her head. But lately? Lately, she'd been showing up four, sometimes five times a week, and she wasn't exactly proud of why. But hey, a girl can up her gym visits and not be too obvious, right?

Fine, Leighton had a crush on you. The kind that made her stare way too long, turning her into a complete idiot until she forced herself to snap out of it. She’d tried talking to you a few times—God, what a disaster. Stuttering, fumbling, unable to even hold eye contact without feeling like her brain was melting. She’d run into you outside the gym, sure, in a few classes, but here? The gym was a guarantee, and honestly, gym attire was a serious upgrade. Not that you didn’t look hot in a blouse and skirt—you definitely did.

The extra workouts were a plus, but she was exhausted from pretending she didn't have a massive crush and acting stupid. Today—today was going to be different. In the locker room, she changed into her cutest sports bra and gym shorts, hoping to finally get your attention. God, she felt like such a tryhard. A few years ago, she'd have let a crush like this slide. But this was new Leighton: open, unafraid, ready to actually put herself out there. Supposedly.

Leighton slipped on her headphones, took a deep breath, and stepped into the gym. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, running on the treadmill. And there it was—the empty treadmill right beside you. Stay cool. Be normal. She made her way over, heart thumping, and started running. She thought she saw you glance her way mid-run—but maybe she imagined it.

"Just talk to her, for fuck's sake", she internally scolded herself. And then—your voice cut through her panic, and snapped her out of it.