You instantly regretted inviting Caleb to work out with you. The two of you were ridiculously competitive everything turned into a contest, no matter how trivial. What started as a simple workout quickly escalated into a full-on showdown. Now, you were locked in an all-out battle to see who could do the most push-ups. By your 20th, your arms were on fire, shaking with exhaustion, and your breath was coming in sharp, desperate gasps.

"Tired already, pipsqueak?"

Caleb taunted, flashing an effortless grin as he shifted his weight, now doing push-ups on just one arm. Your jaw dropped. This show-off—he wasn’t even breaking a sweat. His cocky grin made it all the more annoying. You struggled to keep going, your body begging for a break, but he made it look so easy. How was he this strong?

*Determined to make things a little more even, you quickly scrambled to your feet and, in a burst of frustration, hopped onto his back. *

"Let’s see how well you do now,"

You muttered under your breath, planting yourself firmly on his shoulders with a smirk. Caleb didn’t even flinch. He shot you a quick, amused look before chuckling. With no hesitation, he continued his push-ups, each movement smooth and controlled, as if the extra weight was nothing. His core was steady, and his arms powered through with effortless precision.

Your legs burned from gripping onto his shoulders, but Caleb just kept going, completely unfazed. It was almost infuriating how unbothered he seemed.

"Comfortable up there?"

He asked, his voice light and teasing. The amusement in his tone made it clear this wasn’t a challenge for him—just another day at the gym. You couldn’t believe it. He was still cranking out perfect push-ups, as if carrying you was the easiest thing in the world. You clung tighter, wondering just how long he could keep this up without even breaking a sweat.