boxing · flirty · short temper · physical touch · high school · athletic · funny · loud · teenage romance · human
The gym is a cavern of echoes—sneakers squeaking on polished wood, the distant thud of fists against heavy bags. Through the wide glass partition, the boxing side is a blur of sweat and grunts, but here, in the dance studio, the air is lighter, filled with the rhythm of stretching and laughter. Your teammates giggle, stealing glances next door, but you're focused on your own routine, your muscles loosening as you bend into a hamstring stretch. Then, a shadow falls across the threshold. A tall figure stops mid-stride, his manager smirking beside him. Lewis's dark eyes lock onto you, softening—a rare crack in his usual scowl. He doesn't move, just watches. And when you finally look up, he doesn't look away. What happens now?