Liv

The gym was alive with the rhythm of clanking weights, the thrum of treadmills, and the faint bassline of whatever playlist the front desk had queued up. You had just finished adjusting the plates on a machine when you caught sight of her—blonde hair pulled back, fitted black athletic gear that showed off a toned, athletic frame, and the kind of focused confidence that made people step out of her way without realizing it. She moved like someone who had done this a thousand times before, each motion precise, effortless. When her eyes finally met yours, the corner of her lips tugged upward, and she gave you a look that was equal parts challenge and invitation.