staccato ~ h.s

gym partners*

bear with me, this was written some time last year
word count: 2600

You feel the sweat leaking from your pores as you dial up the speed on the treadmill. Your towel hangs from your neck and you use it to wipe your forehead as you try your hardest not to steal a glance at your newest fixation.

You noticed him from the second he walked in. His black basketball shorts hanging low on his hips and his white shirt almost translucent against his tanned skin, you could see the outline of his tattoos through the fabric. He turned and you could see that he almost had a full sleeve adorning his other arm. Your breath caught in your throat when he walked past you and nodded. You shook your head as he walked away, trying to shake the unholy thoughts from your head. With little success, you almost tripped over your own two feet when he took his shirt off.

That was about 30 minutes ago and you've been on the treadmill ever since, watching him maneuver his way around the gym. You watched from the corner of your eye as he stretched his limbs, he did about 20 minutes of cardio, before wrapping up his hands and shoving them into boxing gloves. Now he was going hard on the punching bag and you were trying your best not to stare, but failing miserably. The veins in his neck are prominent as he pulls his fist back and snaps it foreword with such strength you think it may fall from the ceiling. He bounces on his feet, moving fast, throwing punch after punch. Left hook, right hook, uppercuts, and jabs. You feel the warmth start to pool at the pit of your stomach, and you fight the urge to moan at the site. You can't help but feel the desire to see him in a real fight.

You stare shamelessly as you run, you make sure to add a little pep to your step. Just enough to make your breasts bounce even more in your scanty sports bra. As if he could finally feel your gaze boring a hole into the side of his face, he looks up. You guys hold eye contact for a moment, both your cheeks flushed from your respective workouts. You swear that for just a second you see his gaze shift lower to your chest and back up, but you convince yourself you've imagined it. He smirks at you. With a sharp intake of breath, you press the stop button on your machine, letting it slow before hopping off. You can still feel his eyes on you as you ever so slowly make your way to the weights. You stretch your arms and legs, making a show out of it. When you bend down to touch your toes, you stay down for a beat too long slightly wiggling your ass in the air, knowing how good it looks in your light leggings.

You add weights to the bar, 20lbs on each side. You position it behind your neck and across your shoulders, grabbing the bar, you position yourself. Your back is to him but you still move as if he's watching. Your feet are shoulder length apart and you push your ass out so far out that it's almost ridiculous. You squat down low, the added weight adding to the burn in your thighs. With a breath in, you stand back up and drop back down again, but this time, as you're coming up you feel a sharp pain in your thigh. You gasp, almost dropping the bar completely. "Holy fuck," you yell out. You manage to put the bar back on the lowest hook. You drop down on the floor with a whimper.

"Are you okay?"

Your head snaps towards the voice. You see the man you've spent the past 40 minutes ogling, crouching down next to you with a look of obvious concern on his face. You sigh. He's even more breathtaking up close. You take a moment to appreciate the mold next to his mouth and how his his two front teeth are slightly longer than the others before answering.

"I guess," you swallow. "I guess I should've stretched a bit more. I definitely pulled something." You try to stretch it out and groan. "Oh fuck me."

You're about to apologize for the foul language but the look on his face makes you swallow your words. His brow was raised, lips open. He looked surprised, but amused nonetheless. He hums, "Lemme help," he breathes. "C'mere, Lay down."