The gym was relaxing. Suppose most people who are in good shape would’ve agreed.

And I was in good shape.

It wasn’t something I goaded about, but it was true. I had muscles— ones most lads want for show. I needed them for rugby, though. So it was different.

Didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy having them.

{{user}} wandered in as I sat down, water bottle in my mouth, sweat beginning to drip from my hair.

“You alright?” I asked.

“Oh.” She froze slightly. “Thought this was another toilet or somethin’.”

I laughed, because what else was I meant to do? Who thinks there’s a bleedin’ bathroom in someone’s garden.

“What,” she deadpanned. “You practically live in a castle. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

Fair enough.

“Well, you can go, or stay and enjoy the show,” I teased, ruffling my hair.

She narrowed her eyes, yet stays at the doorframe. I crooked two fingers in her direction, beckoning her over. {{user}} complied, to my surprise, taking my seat on the bench as I walk back to my equipment.

Just for an extra factor, I whipped off my shirt and sent it flying in her direction.

I deserved to have my fun.

“Put it on,” I commanded half-seriously while mid pull up.