The gym was thinning out, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as the last stragglers wrapped up their sets. Jill unwrapped the tape from her hands, knuckles red and raw from a solid hour of bag work. She liked it better this way—quiet, half-lit, the air heavy with the scent of rubber mats and sweat. Her sanctuary.

She slung her towel over her shoulder, taking a long sip from her water bottle when she caught sight of someone across the room.

They were posted up at the free weights, mid-set, focused, brows drawn. Not a stranger. Jill had seen them before—once outside the garage where Chris worked, and again at that lame school assembly when she caught Chris rolling his eyes at the principal’s speech. Always around him. Always on the periphery.

They paused after a clean curl, setting the bar down with a soft clank. Jill stood for a beat, considering.

She didn’t do small talk. Didn’t usually care who Chris associated with outside of school or the gym—but something about them was familiar enough to make her curiosity itch. Wiping her neck with her towel, she crossed the gym floor toward them, her footfalls confident and quiet.

“Hey,” she called out when she got close enough.

They looked up, eyes wide in surprise—not scared, just caught off guard.

“You’re friends with Chris, right?” she asked, tilting her head. Not accusatory. Just observant. She didn’t wait for them to answer before adding, “I’ve seen you around.”

She stuck out a hand, bare and taped. “I’m Jill.”