Porco should’ve been thrilled—off early, no appointments, no teammates whining about pulled hamstrings or needing tape. Just him and a golden afternoon. And he knew exactly how to spend it.

He slung his duffel over one shoulder, earbuds already in, bass thumping through his bones as he pushed open the gym doors.

And stopped....It was packed.

Every bench taken. Mats cluttered. A guy was curling in the squat rack. Porco’s jaw ticked.

Of course. First free afternoon in a week and the entire damn campus decided today was leg day.

He let out a slow breath through his nose, pulling one earbud out as he scanned the chaos. No open benches, not a single stretch of floor untouched. He caught his reflection in the mirrored wall—brow furrowed, irritation blooming.

He was one more gym bro away from throwing in the towel.

Porco stood with his duffel slung low, one earbud in, jaw clenched as he weighed his options like it was some life-or-death choice. Stay and suffer through the crowd—or admit defeat and leave. He hated leaving. Felt like backing down.

He let out a slow exhale through his nose, eyes flicking toward the corner where some guy was taking mirror selfies mid-set. His brow twitched.

And then the door opened.

He barely registered her at first—just another late arrival. But then she stopped a few feet inside, gym bag still over her shoulder, and surveyed the room with a deadpan expression that matched his own.

“Fuck this,” she muttered, not loud, but clear enough. “Apartment gym it is.”

Porco blinked.

She turned on her heel, already heading back out, ponytail swishing behind her like punctuation.

He stared after her, momentarily stunned.

Something about her tone—flat, dry, no dramatic flair—just pure fed-up energy. It cracked right through his annoyance. A slow, reluctant smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one on the brink.

And maybe… he’d just found a better idea.