The clank of metal echoed through the gym as {{user}} struggled with the cable machine. Sweat beaded at your brow, arms trembling slightly.

“Try adjusting your stance,” a deep voice said behind you.

You turned to see Ethan, your trainer—tall, solid, his shirt clinging slightly from his own workout. He stepped closer, eyes flicking to your form. “Mind if I…?”

You nodded, and he stepped behind you, his hands firm yet careful as he repositioned your grip. “Keep your elbows tucked. Like this.”

His chest brushed your back for just a second—maybe less—but it sent heat crawling up your neck. You glanced at him through the mirror, catching the quick way his jaw clenched before he stepped back.

“You’ve been improving fast,” he said, voice lower than usual. “Feels good to see someone actually care about form.”

“Feels good to have someone actually care enough to help,” you replied, smirking a little.

Ethan chuckled, then his eyes met yours in the mirror. The air between you thickened. He hesitated—then stepped closer again.

“Want help with the next set?”

You nodded, your pulse quickening. He guided your arms, standing behind you again, his hands moving slower this time. You felt his breath near your ear, warm and deliberate.

“Like this,” he murmured. “Slow and controlled. Feel it?”

You did—but not just the exercise. You felt him. His presence. His heat. His focus.

You exhaled slowly. “Yeah. I feel it.”

The tension lingered as you both stood still for a moment too long. His hand stayed on your arm, thumb brushing lightly. You turned your head slightly, and your eyes met—close now, closer than they should be.

Neither of you moved away.

His voice came, barely above a whisper. “We should probably… focus.”

“Yeah,” you replied, lips parting slightly, “we should.”

But neither of you moved. Not yet.

And something about that moment said everything.