Chapter 46Â
i grit my teeth forcing myself to focus.this is just chemistry i tell myself. Fleeting. Meaningless. A trick of adrenaline and proximity. Nothing more.Â
but the warmth lingers in my chest in my hands in the quiet space between us and i know it wont fade quickly. Not while he’s here, moving like that, so controlled and so infuriatingly aware.Â
i glance at the clock on the wall. Time moves too slowly.my pen hovers above the page suspended like the tension in the room.i force a few more notes down deliberately tighter almost sharp in their precision.Â
My breaths are shallow, measured. Calculated.Everything is controlled except for the wild stubborn thrum of my pulse.Â
and i realize with a quiet pang of frustration that Imcaught somewhere between doing my job and wanting nothing more than to abandon it entirely.Â
i take a deliberate breath trying to anchor myself trying to convince my body that this is just another session routine nothing to linger over. I focus on numbers, ranges, response times. i count each repetition in my head reciting the steps like a mantra.Â
One. Two. Three. Check. One. Two. Three. Check.Â
Aiden completes the next set with the same measured ease, each movement fluid, deliberate. I scribble notes like a machine, forcing my handwriting into neat columns. And then, almost against my will, I glance up.Â
hes looking at me again.no words just that faint imperceptible smirk a tilt of his head a spark in his eye that makes me want to crumble right where i stand.Â
i bite my lip forcing my gaze down. Smooth. Professional. Clipboard. Numbers. Charts. Anything but him. Anything but that smirk that knows entirely too much.Â
i can feel the tension in the room the weight of unspoken things pressing down on me making the air thick almost tangible.my skin prickles my fingers itch to fidget to cover to hide.i pretend to write but the lines are meaningless.Â
My mind isn’t on numbers. It isn’t on progress. It isn’t even on the session.Â
It’s on him.Â
And just like that the session resumes the rhythm of his drills filling the space leaving me flustered aware and maddeningly conscious of every small detail and the sheen of sweat rolling down his body the flex of his muscleÂ
the subtle tilt of his jaw when he exhales the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the sharp tang of the gym.Â
i force my hand to move to note something concrete anything that feels like professionalism.But my chest is tight, my pulse stubborn, my mind elsewhere.Â
Every calculated mark on the clipboard is a flimsy shield against the pull of proximity and awareness, and I know, stubbornly, irritably, that I’ll be replaying this session in my head for hours.Â
Smooth, Taylor, I scold again. Professional. Detached. Observant. That’s the role. That’s the mask.And yet the heat behind my eyes the tightness in my chest the echo of his smirk- none of it obeys my rules.Â
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Chapter 46Â
+25 BonusÂ
i take another measured breath letting the clipboard slide slightly to the side forcing my pen to mark a column just to ground myself.My gaze flicks down, avoiding the magnetism of his presence.Â
My pulse, still racing, whispers a lie I can’t fully believe: it’s just chemistry. Just a coincidence.Â
And maybe it is. Or maybe it’s something else entirely. Something dangerously close to awareness, close to wanting.Â
But for now, I write. I note. I check the boxes.i cling to control even as control slips like fine sand between my fingers.Â
the session continues the drills repeat the numbers fill the page and i force myself to tell the truth Im not ready to admit: some things cant be measured cant be recorded cant be controlled.Some things- like the pull betweenÂ
him and me- refuse to be ignored.Â
Yet I try anyway.Â
Because thats all i can do.Â
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