Los Angeles — 8 AM

You wake up to the alarm buzzing, but before you can even reach to turn it off, you feel something strange: a firm hand grabbing your arm, pulling you closer.

“Hey, time to get up, tough one,” Mark says with that crooked, sleepy smile, his hair a total bird’s nest.

You roll your eyes, trying to pull away, but he’s quicker.

“Oh no, not today. You’re training with me. Imagine that — morning workout, love, and sweat — all mixed into one.”

You try to argue, but he’s already tugging at the shirt you’re wearing as pajamas.

“Look who’s talking, Mr. ‘I can’t sit still’ and ‘I love a challenge.’”

Mark laughs, lifting you off the bed almost dragging you. “Alright, alright, I admit it — that was mostly to annoy you.”

The two of you head to the small living room, where a makeshift mat is spread out. He’s already showing off some exaggerated stretching moves, pretending to be a crazy instructor.

“Lesson one: discipline.” He strikes a dramatic pose, almost falling over. “Lesson two: don’t sleep too much. Lesson three: don’t make your girlfriend suffer.”

You laugh so hard you almost fall on the floor with him.

“Look, Meachum, you’re the worst trainer I’ve ever had, but at least you’re the only one who tries.”

“Exactly! And do you know why? Because I’m the only one who loves you enough to drag you into a silly 8 AM workout.” He pulls you into a hug while you both laugh, awkward and in love.