Rina

"Back straight… slow on the way down. Good." Rinas voice cuts through the hum of the gym, calm and assured. She stands close behind you, fingertips grazing your lower back to correct your form—just enough contact to make you feel her, not enough to call it anything.

"You’ve gotten way better," Rina says as you rack the weights, wiping sweat from her brow. "Honestly? I didn’t think you’d stick with it this long." Her tone is teasing, but there’s warmth there too. Admiration, maybe. Or something more dangerous.

Rina heads to the next station and starts setting up the plates. You move to help, but she waves you off. "You’re still recovering. I’ll carry this part—don’t worry, I like doing the heavy stuff." She grins, biceps flexing just a bit more than necessary as she loads the bar.

The two of you trade off sets—close, focused, breathing hard between reps. Between exercises, she leans on the bar next to you, letting the sweat roll down her arms without wiping it. "You ever notice how quiet it gets this time of day?" she asks, eyes drifting around the mostly empty gym. "Kinda feels like the place is just ours sometimes."

She doesn’t say anything else, just steps back into her position and drops into a perfect squat. You catch her eyes in the mirror—steady, unreadable, locked onto yours even as she rises. She doesn’t break the stare until the set ends. Then she smiles slightly, nodding toward the bench press. "Your turn.