The whole place smelled faintly of eucalyptus. Jake squinted under the sterile glow of the fluorescent bulbs and stepped inside. He carried himself with precision--his movements were methodical, performed.
Jake liked looking composed and curated. Even after a full day at the office, his presentation seemed uninterrupted. At his locker, he unbuttoned the perfectly fitted polo and peeled it off. His reflection flickered in the mirror: six feet of lean meat, wide shoulders, freshly smooth pecs tapering into the slim waist. Everything wrapped in a warm, golden tone of his skin.
He pulled out his neatly selected outfit out of the gym bag. Grey Lululemon lycra leggings, grey Lululemon sleeveless top to match. Then, black five-inch running shorts and new black sports socks. He dressed with almost methodical care, smoothing each item into place as though performing a ritual. The lycra clung to his crotch, the top shaped his lean frame, and the ribbed socks were tugged high up his calves. There wasn't a crease. He laced up his running shoes last, cinching the laces.
He stepped closer to the mirror to make sure. His curls, still soft from his morning wash, were twirled effortlessly. His eyes seemed to glow faintly in the overhead light. His lashes fluttered. He traced his smooth cheeks, the razor burn from last week already faded. He applied a dab of lip balm, dragging the tube carefully across his pout before pressing his lips together. When everything was in place, as expected, Jake grabbed his metal water bottle and slipped in his airpods. He straightened his posture and adjusted his waistband one last time before stepping away. People would look at him, Jake was sure of it. That was the point. He wanted them to look, to admire, to imagine.
Heading to a room at the top, the air got slightly cooler. Jake walked in through poised, steps barely making a sound on the rubber flooring. The space was luxurious and functional--a cable machine, a row of neatly arranged expensive weights, and a couple of benches scattered around.
Two men were already there. One of them sat on a bench, mid set. The other was using the cable machine, focused and rhythmic. Jake's gaze flicked between them for a moment then settled on the remaining empty bench.
The weights felt cool in his hands as he picked them up and the metallic clang echoed when he adjusted them on the bar. The pump came quickly, the blood rushing to his pecs, swelling them just enough for him to notice. His body felt alive, powerful. Testosterone surged in him like an electric current, and for a moment, he felt nothing but strength.
He finished the set with a low exhale. Sitting up, his eyes wandered, unthinking at first, landing on the man at the cable machine. The guy was bent slightly, mid-deadlift, his stance firm and grounded. He rocked Nike Phenom Elite leggings, the same ones Jake had once considered buying before dismissing them as too revealing. Now, he couldn't help but notice how they clung to the man's thighs and glutes, emphasizing all the curves. Solid. His long-sleeve skin-tight top was like a second skin, wrapping around his back and shoulders. Did he know? Was he aware of how he looked--how slutty this was? Jake's thoughts churned, circling between admiration and something primal. Jake realized he'd been staring for too long and, embarrassed, went back to his reps.
Time to focus. He turned the volume up a notch. He grabbed the bars. Once he emerged up again, the guy at the cable machine had switched to lunges. He was now facing him directly, and only a few meters away.
Jake's breath caught for a moment--it was the first time he'd gotten a proper look. And the man was kind of striking. A sharp jawline framed his chiseled face as his high-set eyes scanned the room. The sheen of sweat glistening on the way down his face only accentuated the sharpness. Jake found himself staring, his gaze lingering on the way this guy moved.
And then the man let go of the cables, reached up, and pulled one side of his headphones down. His eyes locked on Jake's, steady and unflinching. Jake's stomach flipped--he'd been caught. He was starting for too long.
"Everything good?" the man asked, his voice rough-edged, carrying a foreign accent that sounded almost commanding.
Jake blinked, still catching his breath. The words hung in the air for a second before he stammered, "...Oh. Yes."
The man raised an eyebrow then turned back to his exercise as if nothing had happened. Jake let out a silent exhale, heat rising to his face as he reached for his water bottle. He took a long sip, trying to steady himself, but his eyes betrayed him. They flicked down for a split second, catching on the man's leggings--long enough to notice a clearly defined bulge. Jake's throat tightened. He looked away quickly, the realization hitting him: Did anyone see? Jake glanced around and realized the other guy had left. It was just the two of them.
The man's voice cut through his study. "You were watching me a lot."
Jake's heart dropped. He froze, caught completely off guard, his mind scrambling for an excuse or a denial. But the man's tone wasn't accusing--it was confident.
