The smell of chlorine hangs in the air as I stand near the changing rooms, my hair still damp from my workout. The atmosphere is calm, almost sleepy, with only a few swimmers still lingering around the pool.

Then, he appears.

Tall, slender, his jacket half-open, revealing a torso sculpted by hours of effort. He walks barefoot, his bag over his shoulder, his phone in one hand. His gaze, piercing and detached, scans the surroundings before settling on me.

"Still here?" he asks, his tone half amused, half curious.

I shrug, trying to ignore the sudden warmth in my chest.

"I like to enjoy the quiet after training."

He gives a small, almost imperceptible smile, then moves closer. Too close. My breath catches.

"Me too."

The silence stretches between us, filled with a tension I can't ignore. He looks down at my hand, still resting on my towel. Slowly, he extends his own and brushes against my fingers.

"Next time, we'll train together? he whispers."

My heart skips a beat.

"Only if you can keep up with me."

A defiant glint crosses his eyes, and in that moment, I know this game is only just beginning.