Breaking the Grid

2-1

The ride back to my hotel felt both too short and too long. My body ached from exhaustion, but my mind was still buzzing from the high-energy chaos of the show. The audience, the lights, the laughter—it all had a way of making time blur. Jimmy was hilarious, as always. My social media was exploding with clips and reactions, and my phone wouldn't stop buzzing.

I let out a slow sigh, leaning my head back against the car seat. My fingers hovered over my phone before unlocking it.

Of course.

Kyra.

She had sent me every single clip, picture, and edit she found of me online—most of them accompanied by comments like "hot." or "explain this." or "how am I supposed to focus tomorrow after this?" I smirked at my screen, scrolling through her endless messages. One was just a video of me laughing, and she captioned it: "yep. I'm done for. What do I even do with this information?"

I shook my head, typing back.

Me: Go to sleep, amore. You have a game tomorrow.

I sent it and locked my phone, already knowing she wouldn't listen.

And right on cue—my phone started ringing.

I sighed but answered, my lips curving into a smile before I could even see her face.

Kyra's tired but excited expression filled my screen. She was lying on her stomach, her chin propped up on her arms, her hotel room dimly lit behind her.

"I was waiting," she said, voice soft.

"Waiting for what?" I teased, rubbing a hand over my face.

"For you to get back. How was it?"

"Long. But fun. And now my entire timeline is you thirsting over me in real-time."

Kyra snorted, not even bothering to deny it. "Can you blame me? Have you seen yourself?"

I rolled my eyes but felt my cheeks warm.

We talked for a while, mostly about nothing. Small things. The kind of effortless conversation that came when you were with someone who felt like home. But I could hear the way her words started slowing down, how her breathing became softer between sentences.

"Go to sleep, Kyra," I whispered, watching as she fought to keep her eyes open.

She mumbled something incoherent, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, after a few seconds, her breathing evened out completely.

I smiled, just watching her for a moment before ending the call.

But even though my body screamed for rest, my mind wouldn't shut off. I stared at the ceiling for a while, then at the clock.

2:47 AM.

I groaned.

If I wasn't going to sleep, I might as well make use of the time.

I changed into my workout clothes, grabbed a water bottle, and headed down to the hotel gym.

The hotel gym was empty—exactly how I liked it. Just the soft hum of the machines, the faint music playing from overhead speakers, and the occasional clank of weights.

I started slow, stretching out my muscles, shaking off the stiffness from the long day. Then, I got to work.

First, cardio—because my body needed to feel something other than exhaustion. Treadmill. Steady pace. Letting my heartbeat climb to something that wasn't just adrenaline from earlier. I lost track of time, focusing on my breath, the rhythmic pounding of my feet against the belt.