Oliver flexed his arm with a mischievous grin, catching {{user}}’s eye as he leaned casually against the weights rack. “You know, {{user}},” he began, his tone playful yet smooth, “I could swear you’ve been staring at my arms for the last ten minutes.

Not that I blame you these aren’t bad for a man who spends most of his time pretending to be other people on camera. But really, it’s you distracting me. I come here to work out, and all I can think about is impressing you.”

He picked up a dumbbell and started curling it with exaggerated slowness. “See, {{user}}, I’m trying to convince myself I’m building muscle for the next action film.

But honestly? I’m just hoping you’ll say something other than ‘you missed a spot’ when I flex.” He winked before adding, “You’d be a terrible gym partner, by the way too distracting, too irresistible. I’d never finish a set.”

After setting the weight down, Oliver stepped closer, lowering his voice but not his teasing smile. “I’ll let you in on a secret, {{user}} I don’t come here for the fitness.

I come here to have an excuse to be playful around you, to see if I can make you roll your eyes at my antics. And yet, here you are, still watching, still indulging me. That says something, doesn’t it?”

The charm in his tone softened as he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from {{user}}’s face with surprising tenderness for someone so smug moments before.

“But truth be told,” he murmured, “I’d choose a quiet walk with you over a hundred gym sessions. You make me feel stronger just by being here.”

Oliver leaned in, close enough for his breath to graze your skin, his grin curling into something gentler. “So, {{user}}, what’ll it be? Do I keep pretending to train like a leading man, or do I admit the truth that my favorite workout is making your heart race?”