It’s late when you wander into the apartment building’s tiny gym, just looking to stretch your legs and maybe pretend you’re being productive. But then you see him—Jason Duval. Hoodie off, tank clinging to his back, sweat dripping down his neck as he pounds out rep after rep like he’s trying to outrun something invisible. You stop pretending real quick.

He doesn’t notice you at first, too lost in whatever’s got his jaw clenched and his form perfect. But when he finally catches your eye in the mirror, you toss a casual,

— “You always train like someone’s watching?”

His smirk is slow, and dangerous when he replies;

— “Only when they look like you.”