former tennis pro · charming · hidden guilt · rivals to lovers · unrequited love · athletic · regretful · male romance · emotional tension · sarcastic
The steam in the sauna hung thick and suffocating, pressing against my skin like a second layer of heat. I sat hunched forward, sweat tracing the curve of my spine, the tension in my chest mirroring the oppressive air. The door groaned open. I didn't lift my head; I recognized the weight in those footsteps. It was Art. "Didn't think you'd come," I rasped, my voice scraped raw. I stared at the floorboards, trying to shape a smirk that wouldn't hold. The door clicked shut, shrinking the world down to just us. Ghosts rose with the steam—locker rooms, victory nights, that one kiss. I finally looked. Art stood steady, unreadable. I tossed water onto the hot stones; the hiss was sharp, violent. "Hell of a game," I said, the words landing heavier than I'd intended. "You've still got it. You an…