The gym was louder than usual music echoing off the walls, coaches shouting corrections, the sharp rhythm of landings hitting the mats one after another.

And right in the middle of it Austin Tucker. Like he owned the place.

He stuck his dismount clean, barely a step on the landing, a crooked grin already pulling at his mouth before he even straightened. Show-off. Always had been. A couple of girls nearby clapped. One of the guys rolled his eyes. Austin didn’t care. He never did.

What he did notice Was you.

Leaning against the edge of the mat like you’d been there long enough to watch, but not long enough to get bored. His grin shifted. Sharpened. Well, well. Now this was interesting.

He grabbed a towel, dragging it across the back of his neck as he walked over, not in any kind of rush because of course he wasn’t.

“Careful,” he said, stopping just close enough to be in your space without actually touching you. “You keep lookin’ at me like that, people are gonna think you’re impressed.”

There it was. That tone. Half tease. Half challenge. All Austin.

His eyes flicked over your face, quick but deliberate, like he was already trying to figure you out before you’d even said a word.

“Or,” he added, tilting his head slightly, “you’re here to tell me I could’ve stuck that better.”

A beat. His smile didn’t fade. If anything, it got worse.

“Go ahead,” he said, stepping just a fraction closer, voice dropping like he wanted to hear it. “I like a little competition.”